The boat seemed to be endowed with diabolical intelligence that night.

A man might, perchance, stoop to tie his shoe or examine a freshly stubbed toe, when the ship would seem to divine that she had him at a disadvantage, and would leap forward so that he would immediately stand on his head, or affectionately and firmly embrace a convenient stanchion.

"Pride cometh before a fall," and the man who thought he had caught the swing and could walk a chalk line on the deck, soon found that the old boat knew a new trick or two, and in a twinkling of an eye he was sawing the air frantically with his arms, in his efforts to keep his balance.
Though the force of the tropical storm was soon spent, the sea continued high, and locomotion was difficult.
The hammocks were given out by the "hammock stowers" of the watch on duty.

They called out the numbers stenciled on our "dream bags," and the owners stepped forward and claimed them.

As soon as a man secured his hammock he immediately slung it in place, unlashed it, and arranged the blankets to his liking.
A group gathered around the capstan aft, after the hammock ceremony had been completed.
Some one said, "I'm glad I can sleep in a hammock a night like this; the heave of the ship will be hardly felt." "Yes," responded the "Kid," "I wouldn't swap my 'sleeping bag' for the captain's bed, to-night." "That reminds me," said "Stump." "Speaking of beds--when we were in New York a friend of mine came aboard to see me.