A panic in a crowd, which partakes of a sort of community of interest, is not so terrible as a panic when one is by oneself; and such a panic I now suffered.

Whither was I drifting?
The red-faced man had said that the tide was ebbing through the Golden Gate.

Was I, then, being carried out to sea?
And the life-preserver in which I floated?
Was it not liable to go to pieces at any moment?
I had heard of such things being made of paper and hollow rushes which quickly became saturated and lost all buoyancy.

And I could not swim a stroke.

And I was alone, floating, apparently, in the midst of a grey primordial vastness.