Summary

Various The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22…

By main force I held on to the wheel-house, where the captain and his two mates directed the course of the stricken ship. Their faces were set with grim determination, their eyes staring fiercely now at the compass and then at the boiling seas, which pitched and rolled us about like a paper box. The wheel flew round from side to side. One end of the bridge rose and towered above me until I leaned over almost upright against the ascending deck, and as suddenly it fell until it seemed to plough the water. The wind, blowing at eighty miles an hour, tore canvas and rigging to shreds.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22…

Still I kept on, hoping against hope that I [305] should soon see the light in the Faith Creek cabin. I kept shouting, but all the answer I got was a mocking echo. Blundering through snow-drifts, with the wind-blown snow driving against my face like particles of glass, the dogs panting with exertion or moaning from the pain of their lacerated feet, without a sign of a trail or landmark, and with my feet in a peculiar condition of insensibility, still I staggered blindly but persistently towards my goal.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22…

In the words of my preceptor: “The true art of smoking consists in reducing the combustion to a minimum, and yet never allowing the pipe to go out while a particle of tobacco remains in the bowl. The object is not to smoke quickly or much—we are not locomotives bent upon producing force, but men on the quest of solace and enjoyment.”
Source: Gutenberg

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