The Red-Faced Man's Panic

I was alone. I could hear no calls or cries, only the sound of the waves made wordly hollow and reverberant by the fog. A panic in the crowd, which partakes of a sort of community of interest, is not so terrible as a panic when one is by oneself. The life-reserver in which I floated? Was it not liable to go to pieces at any moment? And I could not swim a stroke, and I was alone, floating apparently in the midst of a great primordial vastness. It mad resolve to claw into the wood with my nails, but my arms were heavy and lifeless. How long this lasted I have no conception for a blankness

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