XIX

The barbershop lay aft, and nearby one could look through glass panes upon the working of the cylinders and pistons.  Frederick toilsomely clambered up to the promenade deck and crept into the overcrowded smoking-room.  Though it disgusted him to be wedged into a small space with a lot of noisy men, he had come here in the desire to escape the wild orgy of his thoughts.  Doctor Wilhelm had kept a place for him.

“The doctor tells me you were in the steerage, and a beautiful Deborah made a dangerous impression upon you,” the captain said, smiling roguishly.

Frederick laughed.  He ordered beer, and the conversation was jolly from the start.

In their corner the skat players were sitting over their cards.  They were business men, all of apoplectic constitution.  They had been drinking beer and playing skat ever since breakfast, in fact, except when they slept, ever since boarding the steamer.  The conversation in the room was of no interest to them.  Even the weather failed to elicit any questions from them.  They seemed to be insensible to the tossing of the great vessel, or the dismal howling of the wind.  The force of the roll was so tremendous that Frederick involuntarily clutched at the thing nearest to him.  Up went the port side, down went the starboard.  Up went the starboard, down went the port side.  Sometimes Frederick felt as if port and starboard might plunge one over the other; in which case the Roland’s keel would float above water, while the bridge, masts, and smoke-stacks would be submerged at a distance below the surface.  And in that case all would be lost; but those skat players, it seemed to him, would go on playing undisturbed.

Hahlstroem’s tall figure came creeping with bent head into the tobacco smoke.  His clear, cold, critical eyes roved about looking for a seat.  He paid no attention to the armless man, who jestingly shouted an ironic remark to him.  With cool politeness he seated himself at the greatest possible distance from Stoss, drew a pouch of tobacco from his pocket, and filled a short Dutch pipe.  Frederick’s immediate thought was, “Where is Achleitner?”

“How is your daughter feeling?” Doctor Wilhelm asked.

“Oh, she’s just a little upset now.  The weather will be getting better, I suppose.”

The whole company, which, of course consisted of the men either by nature or from frequent exposure proof against seasickness, now entered into the usual discussion of the weather.

“Is it true, Captain,” somebody asked, “that last night we nearly collided with a derelict?”

The captain smiled, raised his brows, and made no reply.

“Where are we now, Captain?  Was there fog last night?  I saw some snow fall.  And for at least an hour I heard the siren blow every two minutes.”

But Captain von Kessel remained highly monosyllabic in everything pertaining to the management of the vessel and the prospects for a good or bad crossing.