ailed 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.

"Is it true that there is gold bullion on board for the treasury in
Washington?"

Von Kessel smiled and sent a thin wreath of cigarette smoke curling
through his moustache.

"That would be carrying coals to Newcastle," remarked Wilhelm.

And now the great theme, the theme of themes, became the general topic
of conversation. Each of the travellers, of course, straightway had a
picture of his own fortune in mind, every cent of it, or else tried to
make an accurate mental calculation. They all turned into calculating
machines, while