He nodded and went on. Thompson, holding fast, getting his first
uncomfortable experience of the roll and recovery of a ship in a beam
sea, made his way out on the after deck. Holding on the rail he peered
over the troubled water that was running in the open mouth of Dixon
Entrance, beyond which lay the vast breadth of the Pacific, an unbroken
stretch to the coast of Japan.
Again Chance was playing the deuce with his calculations. For a few
minutes he felt uncommonly irritated. He had not started for San
Francisco. He did not want to go to San Francisco. Still--what was the
odds? San Francisco was as good as any other town. He shrugged his
shoulders, and feeling his way to a coiled hawser sat down in the bight
of it to contend with the first, faint touch of seasickness.