"All's well"
were all that disturbed the quiet of the night.

The night was dark, but a few stars were occasionally visible between
the passing clouds. The sea continued smooth and the ship on an even
keel. When I turned in at ten o'clock I had the comforting thought
that by the same time to-morrow night we should be heading for San
Francisco. We were making about three knots an hour, which would bring
Ocean Island in sight about early dawn, so that there would be plenty
of time to circumnavigate the reef and get a good offing on our course
before dark.

How sadly, alas! our intentions were frustrated and how fully our
surgeon's premonitions were fulfilled! My pen falters at the attempt
to describe the events of the next few hours. I was suddenly awakened
about three o'clock in the morning by an unusual commotion on deck;
the hurried tramping of feet and confusion of sounds. In the midst of
it I distinguished the captain's voice sounding in sharp contrast to
his usual moderate tone, ordering the taking in of the topsails and
immediately after the cutting away of the topsail halliards. Until the
latter order was given I imagined the approach of a rain squall, a
frequent occurrence formerly, but I knew now that some greater
emergency existed, and so I hastily and partly dressed myself
sufficiently to go on deck.

Just before I reached the top of the wardroom ladder I felt the ship
strike something and supposed we were in collision with another
vessel. The shock was an easy one at first, but was followed
immediately by others of increasing force, and, as my feet touched
the deck, by two severe shocks that caused the ship to tremble in
every timber. The long easy swell that had been lifting us gently
along in the open sea was now transformed into heavy breakers as it
reached and swept over the coral reef, each wave lifting and dropping
with a frightful thud the quaking ship. It seemed at each fall as
though her masts and smokestack would jump from their holdings and go
by the board. To a landsman or even a professional seaman who has
never experienced the sensation it would be impossible to convey a
realizing sense of the feelings aroused by our sudden misfortune.
There is a something even in the air akin to the terror of an
earthquake shock--a condition unnatural and uncanny. The good ship
that for years has safely sailed the seas or anchored in ports with a
free keel, fulfilling in all respects the destiny marked out