We turned in at once, determining to get all the sleep possible in that pandemonium of sound.
The value of hammocks in a heavy sea was proved beyond all peradventure, for once we got into them and closed our eyes, we hardly realized that the ship was almost on her beam ends much of the time.
From time to time we were wakened by the crash of a mess chest, as it broke from its lashings and careened around the deck.

The mess pans and pots banged and thumped.

At intervals the lurching of the vessel caused a mess table with the accompanying benches to slide to the deck with a crash.
At twelve, we of the port watch were wakened from our much-interrupted rest and ordered on deck for muster.
As we slid from our hammocks we realized for the first time the fury of the storm.

It was impossible to stand upright.
The old hooker rolled so, that it was impossible to keep from sliding even when one lay prone on the deck.

The men on lookout had all they could do to hang on.