The immediate scenes were enough to inspire terror. The big steam whistle could be but faintly heard above the wind, when it was blown to call deck hands to clear away wreckage caused by the fall of the top of the front mast with the wireless antennae. In the galley, right outside my door, pots and pans and dishes and glassware were thrown about in continuous din and confusion. In staterooms, trunks, water bowls, and other loose articles were flying around. It was dangerous to be about. The thick glass of a port hole was broken to bits by a wave, and a woman so cut by the glass as to require many stitches for her wounds. In the troop decks many bunks were broken and fell to the floor. Several soldiers suffered broken legs, arms, or collar bones. The ship's doctor in his palmiest day in civil life I venture, never saw things coming his way half so thick and fast. The only way to remain in a bunk was by bracing and hanging to rail and hooks. The first streak of dawn showed about 5:30 A.M., Sunday the 19th, and, though welcome, revealed an awful sea and driving sheets of rain. This violence kept up most of the day, until late in the afternoon it appeared that wind and sea were somewhat abating. The barometer was slowly but steadily rising, and it was plain that we were running out of the typhoon. But night was upon us, and the Master had not had an observation of the sun for more than three days--since Thursday noon, August 16. The situation was perilous. A temporary respite only had been given. The behavior of passengers, crew, and all during this time was remarkable. There was not a trace of panic or alarm. Some passengers, gathered in the main saloon, seated about tables, talked it over conversationally. Others remained in the social hall, in the passageways, or in staterooms awaiting quietly the expected call. Some officers were fully dressed in uniform, either khaki or white, others in swimming clothes of pajamas with bathrobe or raincoat over. The women also were in various degrees of preparation. There was no hysteria, weeping, or raising of voices. And so the long Sunday night wore on with the three of us in our bunks, the little boy asleep and ---- and I attempting to doze. We were destined for our third successive sleepless night. The wind and sea were still high. Some time before midnight I was brought to my feet in the middle of the cabin with a bounce, by a severe metallic blow against the ship's side. I turned on the light and the little boy awoke startled to get into bed with his mother on the couch and doze off again immediately. To this date I have not satisfactorily settled what caused that blow. It may have been the violent impact of one of four lost lifeboats against the hull or one of the parts of a broken davit hitting the side. Weak and dizzy and vomiting continuously I thought it best to remain up.