It was well that he formed this decision, for at eleven o’clock the heavens and the sea seemed to meet in a mighty clash. There was one mighty reverberating roar, the steamer heeled over, the wind howled through the rigging, and the stern, lifting high out of the water, permitted the propeller to race, shaking the vessel from stem to stern. The gong and bells rang sharply in the engine-room, the propeller stopped racing, stopped altogether, spun again. The tramping of feet sounded along the decks; orders were shouted from the bridge in Austrian. The cowboys gathered on the main deck and waited anxiously--for what, they did not know. Then the passenger transmitted the knowledge of the open book in the chart-room to the landsmen. A typhoon was on, perhaps, he suggested. “Typhoon” in the China Sea, “hurricane” in the Atlantic, “pampero” off the South American coast, “cyclone” on land--all mean much the same thing. The most terrifying storm a vessel could encounter held the _Siam_ in its mighty grip. Then, almost without warning, a demoniacal sea and a fearful wind, with legions of horrible, never-to-be-forgotten night terrors, appeared to leap upon the ship from the darkness. A sickening dread crept into my heart. In fifteen minutes the whole fury of the typhoon was upon us. It was almost midnight of September 30th when we realized, by a glance at the captain’s face as he rushed into the chart-room, that a battle for our lives was upon us. It was human science matched against the ungovernable fury of the elements. Which would win? I made my way to the bridge, clinging now to a rope, and now down upon my knees with my arms around a stanchion. 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.