Crossing the Indian Ocean during the monsoon season on a ship that began the trip in Singapore and was headed for England via the Suez, we encountered the worse storm I have even seen. Our cabin doors were chained open so that when we disembarked we would have the same number of arms and legs that we started out with. Ropes were set up in all passageways for those brave enough to venture out of their cabins - no one went to the dining room, we were all too violently ill. We were absolutely forbidden to go out on deck because the waves were crashing over the bow with such volume and force that it would have been suicide to do so.
In a case that can only be described as idiocy born out of desperation, I snuck out with a friend because I was so sick that I was convinced I was going to die in that cabin, and thought I would feel better if I could only get some fresh air. We made it up to sun deck - the top deck - found two deck chairs and managed to unfold them and lie down. The bow was actually dipping below the surface of the sea and tons of water were washing up over the decks below us. Within an instant a huge wave crashed over the sun deck and pulled both of our chairs towards the rails which had gaps large enough for the wave to have washed us through them and overboard. I don't know how we managed to hang on, but we got out of there fast and fled to the safety of our cabins. The storm lasted seven frightening days and when we made our first stop in Djibouti, it was quite a sight to see all those pale, skinny passengers weakly stumbling down the gangplank. And now I'm very grateful that we didn't bump that statistic up to 201.