Certainly we now presented a very unique spectacle. We were really a sort of Noah's Ark collection, with the roof of the Ark omitted. Women in abbreviated skirts, long rubber boots, golf capes, caps and sweaters; men covered in long "raglans," fur coats, "jumpers," or whatever happened to be at hand; and all rushing pell-mell in the direction of the lighter, by means of which they hoped to land on the golden beach of Nome. Baggage there was in stacks. There were boxes, grips, trunks, army sacks; everything but babies, bird cages and band wagons. Passage for an automobile had been engaged in San Francisco, but at the last moment the lady accompanying the big machine was suddenly indisposed and obliged to allow the "St. Paul" to sail without her. The sea was now quite rough. The lighter was brought close alongside. The rope ladder was thrown over the side of the ship with its lower end dangling upon the lighter's deck, and we were told we could now go ashore. This was the moment for which we had longed, and all were ready, like Cassibianca, minus the fire and peanuts. The fat widow of the company tied her bonnet more tightly under her chin, clutched at her pudgy skirts, and grasping the deck rail, placed her foot upon the rope ladder to descend. "Don't look down!" shouted some one to her, fearing she might grow dizzy if she did so. "Don't hurry; take your time!" called out another. "Keep cool and you're all right!" instructed another, at which time the widow, with fluttering veil, pale face and eyes starting from their sockets with fright reached the lowest round of the ladder and stepped to the deck of the lighter. Her bonnet was awry, the belt of her dress had become unfastened, while her skirts were twisted around her in some unaccountable way and her teeth chattering; but she only drew a long sigh as she sank in a limp heap upon an army sack marked with big black letters, and said gaspingly: "This is terrible!" Others followed her example. Some protested they would rather stay on the ship or go back to San Francisco than scramble down that "beastly rope ladder" swaying as it did back and forth with every motion of the ship to which it was attached. For myself, I had never posed as especially courageous, and wondered how I should get on. But I said nothing. From watching the others I had learned that to "make haste slowly" was a good method to follow in the present case, as a misstep without a firm hand grip upon the sides of the ladder while descending would be likely to send one without warning into the yard wide gulf of boiling waters between the ship's side and the lighter, as the barge was literally dancing attendance upon the vessel in the rough sea.