Frederick noticed that solitude heightens the visionary character of existence.  Without a companion, a man is always condemned to intercourse with spirits.  In his hermitage Frederick had merely to think of someone to see him in person, talking and acting as in life.  This inflammability of his imagination did not alarm him.  He had given George Rasmussen’s apparition cool, careful observation.  Nevertheless he was aware that his spiritual life had entered a new phase.

Before going to bed he went down-stairs to lock up the house.  To his great astonishment, as he opened the door of one of the rooms to close the shutters, he saw by the light of his candle another phantom as distinct as the first.  He congratulated himself upon no longer having to depend upon mere hearsay in regard to this psycho-pathologic phenomenon.  At the table four men were sitting playing cards.  One of them was looking on.  The men had rather coarse red faces, were smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.  They seemed to be business men.  Suddenly Frederick clapped his hand to his forehead.  From the brand and the bottle, he recognised the beer that had been served on the Roland, and these men were those eternal drinkers and card players who had been in everybody’s mouth on the Roland.  Shaking his head over the remarkable fact that they should be sitting in his own house, he returned up-stairs to his warm room.

The daytime, in which he did a great deal of out-of-door work, even though by himself, had a wholesome effect upon him and brought him back to reality.  On the whole, his opinion of his own condition remained sound.  Nevertheless, as the sickness came creeping over him stealthily, he failed to notice it.  It seemed natural to him that he should reckon with the apparition of Rasmussan sitting at the foot of his bed and the four men playing skat in one of his down-stairs rooms as with realities.  In the instinct to counteract the physical crisis, which in a dull way he felt was approaching, he resorted to exercise.  But even while skating on the lake, which he himself had swept clean of snow, dreams, he found, gradually threw their veil over him, and he associated with men and things that were not of the lake or of its snowy, solitary banks.

Many Indian legends are connected with the lake and the little stream, the Luinnipiac, which empties into it.  One day Frederick skated miles up the stream to follow it to its source.  On the way he was accompanied by a hovering shadow, the corporeality of which he never for a moment doubted.  It resembled the stoker Zickelmann who had died on the Roland, not the Zickelmann that he had seen lying stretched out a corpse in the stoke-hole, but the Zickelmann he had seen in his dream.

The shade of the stoker told him that five engine-men, thirty-six stokers, and thirty-eight coal-passers had sunk with the Roland, a number far greater than Frederick had thought.