Frederick and Wilhelm could give little information concerning the cause of the accident.  Wilhelm said that shortly before six in the morning, he had been awakened by a sound like the clang of a gong.  In his half-waking state, he thought it was the signal to dinner, until he remembered that on the Roland a trumpet blast was used to announce meals.

Frederick thought the Roland had probably struck a wreck or a rock.  But rocks, the captain said, were out of the question.  There were none in those waters, and the Roland could not have been carried by strong currents into a region where there were rocks, since in that event the life-boat would not have entered the course of his own vessel within so short a time.  The skipper, who knew Captain von Kessel personally and had met him in Hamburg only recently, spoke of him in the highest terms, as one of the most experienced, trustworthy captains in the German merchant marine.  The catastrophe, he said, was possibly the worst that had occurred in decades, if the steamer had actually sunk and not been towed into a port.

Before leaving, Captain Butor invited the two men, as soon as their task was ended, to supper at the mess table.

An hour and a half passed.  The physicians were about to give up their attempts to resuscitate Mrs. Liebling, when her heart began to stir and her breast to heave.  Rosa’s joy was boundless.  With the greatest difficulty restraining an emotional outburst, she felt the warmth return even to Mrs. Liebling’s soles, which she had been rubbing unwearyingly with her palms, hard as flat-irons.  The rescued woman was carried to bed and packed in hot water bottles, like a premature baby.

This great success of the physicians’ efforts—­it was like a raising of the dead—­produced profound emotion in all that witnessed it, including Frederick and Doctor Wilhelm, who were suddenly moved to shake hands with each other.

“We have been saved,” said Wilhelm.  “The most improbable, the most incredible thing has actually happened.”

“Yes,” rejoined Frederick.  “It has actually happened.  It is absolutely the most improbable thing that has ever occurred in my life.  The question is, What were we saved for?”

LI

The mess-room of the Hamburg was a small square cabin with iron walls, its only furniture a square table and a bench running around three sides.  Once a person was seated, it was impossible to pass him; and when the officers gathered for meals, they shoved themselves into place in a certain order, the captain first.

At seven o’clock Doctor Wilhelm and Frederick appeared for supper.  They found a soup tureen sending up clouds of steam and a well-constructed oil lamp over the table shedding a cheerful light.  The Hamburg was not lighted by electricity.