The room had two metal doors, one on the starboard and one on the port
side. The person entering or leaving had to contend violently with the
wind and the motion of the vessel. The stewards had mastered the art
perfectly. Shortly before eleven o'clock, Captain von Kessel appeared.
It was his custom to visit the room at about this time every day. After
giving friendly or curt answers, as the case might be, to the usual
questions regarding the weather and the prospects for a good or bad
crossing, he seated himself at the same table as the physicians.

"A seaman was lost in you," he said to Frederick.

"I think you must be mistaken," Frederick rejoined. "I have had quite
enough of a salt water sousing. I assure you, I am not longing for
another."

A few hours before, a pilot-boat from the French coast had brought the
latest news, which the captain proceeded to recount in a calm, quiet
manner.

"A vessel of the Hamburg-American line, a twin-screw steamer, the
_Nordmania_, running for only a year, had a mishap about six hundred
miles out from New York. It turned back and reached Hoboken safely.
The sea was comparatively calm, but all of a sudden a waterspout arose
close to the ship, and a great mass of water burst over the ladies'
saloon, crushing through its roof and the roof of the deck below and
hurling a piano down into the very hold."

The other piece of news he told was that Schweninger was in Friedrichsruh
with Bismarck and that Bismarck's death was being expected hourly. Though