A rough night is described, when the ship pitched and rolled so that people were thrown from their berths; days and nights when we crawled through dense fogs, our foghorn drawing answering warnings from invisible ships.

The perils of the sea were not minimized in the imaginations of us inexperienced voyagers.

The captain and his officers ate their dinners, smoked their pipes and slept soundly in their turns, while we frightened emigrants turned our faces to the wall and awaited our watery graves.
All this while the seasickness lasted.

Then came happy hours on deck, with fugitive sunshine, birds atop the crested waves, band music and dancing and fun.

I explored the ship, made friends with officers and crew, or pursued my thoughts in quiet nooks.