It was on a bleak and windy night in December that we were driven through a pelting rain to one of the docks on the North River, which our steamer was to leave at high tide in the early morning.

When we alighted Mr.Murmurtot stood shivering in a greatcoat and muffler close by the passengers' entrance.
"This is a good place for a warm greeting," said he, taking Hester's hand.

"I've stood here so long that my teeth are chattering from the cold." "Won't you come aboard with us ?" I asked.
"Not yet," he replied; "but I expect to sail with you in the morning." "'Sa rough night, sir," said the porter who carried our luggage, "but we'll find it a bit rougher outside, I'm feered, afore anither night." Fatigued by a long day of arduous work, we went at once to our staterooms.

I was soon asleep after getting into my berth, but was awakened by the tramp of feet on the upper decks and the shouting of the crew long before the ship left her moorings.

They reminded me of the first night I had ever spent on an ocean steamer--the night I left Liverpool on that journey fraught with danger I had not then dreamed of.