eyes of the European endows life with its sublimest charm, cannot in
the twinkling of an eye turn into absolute passivity. Nevertheless,
despite these novel, distressing experiences, despite throbbing pulses,
over-stimulated senses, and nerves tautened to the snapping point, the
situation is by no means lacking in fascination.

Thus, Frederick von Kammacher felt a flush of exaltation. Life was
straining him to her breast more closely, wildly, passionately than she
had for a long time.

"Either life has again become the one tremendous adventure, or life is
nothing," a voice within him said.

Again the tender lay still. Suddenly it groaned, churned the water, sent
out huge puffs of hissing steam, whistled as if in great fear, once,
twice--Frederick counted seven times--and started off at its utmost
speed, as if to escape Satan's clutches. And now, all at once, it turned,
swept into a region of light, and faced a mighty vision.

The _Roland_ had reached the Needles and was lying tide rode. In the
protection of its vast broadside the little tender seemed to be in a
brilliantly lighted harbour. The impression that the surprising presence
of the ocean greyhound made upon Frederick was in a fortissimo scale.
He had always belonged to that class of men--a class which is not
small--whose senses are open to life's varied abundance. Only on the
rarest occasions he found a thing commonplace or ordinary, and was never
blasé in meeting a novelty. But, after all, there are very few persons
who would be dull to the impressions of an embarkation by night, outside
a harbour in the open waters.