A common sailor had peeled Ingigerd Hahlstroem out of her clothes, and without circumstance had laid her delicate body, shining like mother-of-pearl, on a couch against the wall taking up the full width of the room.  At Frederick’s instruction, he rubbed her body vigorously with woollen cloths.  Rosa was doing the same for Ella Liebling, who was the first to be put to bed.  The steward was working away in a glow of zeal to get each of the dozen beds freshly spread, and as soon as the second one was ready, Ingigerd was laid between the warmed covers.  Thanks to his faithful valet, Arthur Stoss, his teeth still chattering, was the next to be ready for bed.

Jacob Fleischmann gave his rescuers much trouble.  When a sailor spoke to him kindly and attempted to undress him, he struck about wildly, and shouted in a rage, “I’m an artist!”

The steward and Bulke had to hold him fast and use main force in putting him to bed.  Doctor Wilhelm abandoned his vain efforts to revive Siegfried Liebling and came with his leather case of drugs, which he had managed to save, just in time to give the painter an injection of morphine.

The sailor whose agony of pain had overcome him before he was lifted on deck had such badly swollen, frostbitten feet that his boots had to be cut off bit by bit.  He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming, and merely uttered low groans until they laid him in bed; when he called for chewing tobacco.

The woman from the steerage clad in rags was also put to bed.  All she could tell was that she was bound for Chicago with her sister, her four children, her husband, and her mother.  Nothing of what had in the meantime befallen her seemed to have penetrated, or remained in, her consciousness.

The whole while Frederick, his upper body bared, with only the barber to help him, kept working uninterruptedly over Mrs. Liebling.  It was good for him, because it made him perspire.  Finally, however, his strength gave out, and Doctor Wilhelm came to his relief.  He tottered into the nearest cabin, the door of which stood open, and fell face downward into the unmade bed, utterly exhausted.

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After a time Mr. Butor, the captain of the Hamburg, now speeding on its way, appeared in the saloon to welcome and congratulate the two physicians, who, notwithstanding their extreme exhaustion, were still working without cease over Mrs. Liebling’s body.

The room, of course, was flooded and was reeking with the sweetish-sour smell of human exhalations.  The captain sent a sailor to fetch dry clothes for Frederick.

While continuing their efforts and relieving each other at intervals, Doctor Wilhelm and Frederick gave a short account of the catastrophe on the Roland.  Captain Butor was greatly astonished.  Though the weather throughout his trip had not been especially good, yet it had not been the reverse.  Most of the time, as at present, it had been clear, with a stiff wind and a moderately high sea.  His vessel was bound for New York with a cargo of oranges, wine, oil, and cheese from Fayal in the Azores, to which it had carried a load of agricultural implements from Hamburg.