And the wails, the groans, the cries, the shrieks, the strange ejaculations--it was wonderful.
The women and children and some of the men and boys spent the night in that place, for they were too ill to leave it; but the rest of us got up, by and by, and finished the night on the hurricane-deck.
That boat was the foulest I was ever in; and the smell of the breakfast saloon when we threaded our way among the layers of steaming passengers stretched upon its floor and its tables was incomparable for efficiency.
A good many of us got ashore at the first way-port to seek another ship.
After a wait of three hours we got good rooms in the Mahinapua, a wee little bridal-parlor of a boat--only 205 tons burthen; clean and comfortable; good service; good beds; good table, and no crowding.

The seas danced her about like a duck, but she was safe and capable.
Next morning early she went through the French Pass--a narrow gateway of rock, between bold headlands--so narrow, in fact, that it seemed no wider than a street.

The current tore through there like a mill-race, and the boat darted through like a telegram.

The passage was made in half a minute; then we were in a wide place where noble vast eddies swept grandly round and round in shoal water, and I wondered what they would do with the little boat.

They did as they pleased with her.