The electric lights were turned on full.  The grey of the cloudy winter day did not suffice to illuminate the room, especially since what brightness there was outside was every instant shut off by the water splashing against the port-holes.

Frederick enjoyed the daring of it—­to be dining in festivity to the accompaniment of frivolous music in the illuminated bowels of this monster, this Roland.  From time to time the mighty ship seemed on the point of encountering invincible resistance.  A combination of opposing forces would rise up against the stem, producing the effect of a solid body, a veritable mountainside.  At such moments the noise of the talking would die down, and many pale faces would exchange glances and turn to the captain or to the prow of the vessel.  But Captain von Kessel and his officers were absorbed in their meal and paid no attention to the phenomenon, which for moments at a time brought the Roland to a quivering standstill.  They never looked up, but kept to their eating and talking, even when, as often happened, tremendous masses of water hurled themselves against the walls, threatening to crash through what seemed like pitifully thin partitions for excluding that mighty, wrathful element, thundering and roaring with suppressed hate and fury.

During the meal Frederick’s eyes were constantly drawn to Hahlstroem’s tall figure.  Though his hair was touched with grey, he was certainly still to be counted a handsome man.  Next to him sat a man of about thirty-five, with a bushy beard, dark, bushy eyebrows, and dark, deep-set eyes, which sometimes darted a sharp, piercing glance at Frederick—­at least so it seemed to Frederick.  The man troubled him.  He noticed that Hahlstroem graciously permitted the stranger to entertain him and pay him court.

“Do you know that tall, fair-haired man, Doctor von Kammacher?” the physician asked.  In his confusion Frederick failed to answer, looking helplessly at Doctor Wilhelm.  “He is a Swede.  His name is Hahlstroem,” Doctor Wilhelm continued.  “A peculiar fellow.  Earlier in his life he made a mess of your and my profession.  He is travelling with his daughter, not an uninteresting little miss.  She’s been dreadfully seasick, and hasn’t left the horizontal in her berth since we set sail from Bremen.  That dark fellow sitting next to Hahlstroem seems to be something like, well, let us say, her fiance.”

“By the way, what do you do for seasickness?” Frederick asked hastily, to conceal his dismay and turn the conversation.

IX

“You here, Doctor von Kammacher?  I can scarcely trust my eyes.”  At the bottom of the companionway Frederick felt Hahlstroem tackle him, just as he was about to mount to deck.

“Why, Mr. Hahlstroem, what a peculiar coincidence!  It’s as if the whole of Berlin had agreed to emigrate to America!” Frederick exclaimed, simulating surprise with somewhat forced liveliness.