Up the River by Oliver Optic

At eleven o'clock we changed the course of the Sylvania to south-west half-west, which brought the gale nearly on the beam. The wind was blowing but little, if anything, short of a hurricane. The great billows struck against the side of the vessel and the house on deck with tremendous force. It seemed just as though immense boulders were hurled against the planking that enclosed my state-room, the galley, and the engine-room. The sea swept over the hurricane-deck, and struck heavily upon the planks overhead.

Suddenly I heard a noise over my head, as I stood at the wheel, which sounded like the report of a heavy cannon. I thought the sea had broken a hole through. In another instant the steamer was rolling with double the violence of a few minutes before.