The Most Scenic Storm in the Atlantic Ocean

After escaping from Hungary and waiting for two months in Vienna, Austria, Tom boarded the RMS Saxonia to cross the Atlantic from Liverpool, UK, to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.

As we approached waters about two days from Newfoundland, near where the Titanic sank, the sea got so rough that the ship had to stop for a day. Gales were whipping the ocean and miniature icebergs were floating all around us. The motion was so violent that all entertainment was stopped. Out of 800 passengers, we seldom saw more than eighty at meals.

As large as the ship had appeared at the dockside in Liverpool, it seemed to be small and fragile now that we were surrounded by 40 to 50-foot waves and roaring winds.

After supper, around 10 p.m., I asked Olive, the secretary to the Purser, if I could go outside on the top deck to see this black convulsion and actually feel the total situation. I had to promise Olive to come in instantly if she knocked at the window. She risked her job by allowing me to go out, but graciously accommodated my request. “Hold onto the rail as tightly as you can, Tom, or we will never see you again!” she pleaded after unlocking the door. When she opened the door, the wind almost tore it off its hinges. I leapt forward and grabbed the rail as torrential rain, sleet, and wind blew in my face.

It was an ominous, violent, and yet magnificent sight. The mountainous black waves resembled a rhythmic earthquake. Roaring wind and water whipped the 26,000-ton boat around in the endless ocean and drowned out any other sound. The complete blackness, the noise, and the reality of being alone on a craft so small compared to the infinite convulsing ocean, was frightening. Yet, experience suggested that we could trust the captain and his wise decision to stand still until the storm subsided.

I hung onto the rail with all my strength. Letting go would have resulted in my body being flung overboard, or being knocked unconscious by the gale. I imagined if I hit the seaquake, nobody could have rescued me even if they saw me. The sound of knocking on the window signaled the end of my adventure. I grabbed the doorknob while hanging onto the rail with my other hand. Olive unlocked the door, and I was nearly blown into the upper corridor.

The next day the Captain decided to proceed and, to the joy of all, the peg indicating our position on the map was moved another inch toward Canada.

Often, we are surrounded by violent storms of life, and our ship which was so attractive and secure during sunny days looks hopeless and aimless bobbing in the waters. We have to be still until the winds subside. Then we can get perspective and establish the direction to proceed.