The ride also had a few interesting characteristics. When the bow plowed into an especially high wave, the ship slowed down. But the size of the ship meant that the bow slowed quicker than the stern, and as the deceleration forces fought to reduce the ship's speed, the hull rebelled by shuddering. In fact, the hull actually bent a few inches, something difficult to believe until it was seen.

"I served on a carrier once. They flex more than a foot in the middle. Once we were -"

"Look dead ahead, sir!" the helmsman called.

"Oh shit!" the Second Officer shouted. "Rogue wave!"

Suddenly there it was, a fifty footer just a hundred yards from the George M's blunt bow. The event was not unexpected. Two waves would meet and add their heights for a few moments, then diverge The bow rose on the medium-size crest, then dropped before the onrushing green wall.

"Here we go!"

There wasn't time for the bow to climb over this one. The green water simply stepped over the bow as though it had never been there and kept rolling aft the five hundred feet to the superstructure. Both officers watched in detached fascination. There was no real danger to the ship - at least, they both told themselves, no immediate danger. The solid green mass came past the heavy cargo-handling masts and equipment, advancing at a speed of thirty miles per hour. The ship was already shuddering again, the bow having hit the lower portion of the wave, slowing the ship. In fact, the bow was still under water, since this wave was far broader than it was high, but the top portion was about to hit a white-painted steel cliff that was perpendicular to its axis of advance.

"Brace!" the Second Officer told the helmsman.

The crest of the wave didn't quite make the level of the bridge, but it did hit the windows of the senior officers' cabins. Instantly, there was a white vertical curtain of spray that blotted out the entire world. The single second it lasted seemed to stretch into a minute, then it cleared, and the ship's deck was exactly where it was supposed to be, though covered with seawater that was struggling to drain out the scuppers. George M took a fifteen-degree roll, then settled back down.

"Drop speed to sixteen knots, my authority," the First Officer said.

"Aye," the helmsman acknowledged.

"We're not going to break this ship while I'm on the bridge," the senior officer announced.

"Makes sense to me, Pete." The Second Officer was on his way to the trouble board, looking for an indicator light for flooding or other problems. The board was clear. The ship was designed to handle seas far worse than this, but safety at sea demanded vigilance. "Okay here, Pete."

The growler phone rang. "Bridge, First Officer here."

"What the hell was that?" the Chief Engineer demanded.

"Well, it was sorta a big wave, ChEng," Pete answered laconically. "Any problems?"