shudder.

"The dead man is dead," said Stoss, now attacking his roast with
appetite. "We won't be wrecked on the dead stoker's corpse. But last
night a derelict was sighted. Those corpses, the corpses of vessels, are
dangerous. When the sea is rough, they can't be sighted."

Frederick asked for more information about derelicts.

"About nine hundred and seventy-five drifting derelicts," Stoss
explained, "have been sighted in five years here in the northern part of
the Atlantic. It is certain that the actual number is twice as great. One
of the most dangerous of such tramps is the iron four-masted schooner,
_Houresfeld_. On its way from Liverpool to San Francisco, fire broke out
in its hold, and the crew abandoned it. If we were to collide with
anything of that sort, there wouldn't be a soul left to tell the tale."

"You can't pass through the gangways," said Fuellenberg, "the bulkheads
are closed down."

The siren began to roar again. Frederick still heard defiance and triumph
in the cry, and yet something recalling the broken horn of the hero
Roland in Roncesvalles.

"There is no danger yet," said Stoss to calm him.

XXXVII

Long after Stoss had been led away by his valet and tucked in bed for his
afternoon nap, Frederick still remained in the unfrequented smoking-room.
The place made an uncanny impression. Yet its very gloominess insured
privacy; and in the gravity of the situation he had need to be by
himself. He began, perhaps prematurely, to consider the worst
eventuality. He thought it might be well to stand in readiness. Around
the walls ran a bench upholstered in leather. Kneeling on it, he could
look through the port-holes out upon the mighty uproar of the waters. In
that position, watching the waves beat with inconceivable persistency
against the desperately struggling vessel, he let his life pass in review
before his mind's eye.

Grey gloom was closing down on him. After all, he felt that he yearned
for life and was far from being as ready to die as he had occasionally
supposed. Something akin to regret came over him. "Why am I here? Why did
I not stop to consider and summon all my rational will power to keep me
from this senseless trip? For all I care, let me die; but not here, not
in a desert of water far from mother earth, immeasurably far from the
great community of men. This seems to me a particularly awful curse. Men
on solid land, in their own homes, men among men, have not the least