The actor's attendant appeared, to help his master to his cabin for his
afternoon nap.

"My days are mapped out like a time-table," Stoss explained. "My
attendant here, Bulke, served his four years in the German navy. With all
the ocean crossings I have to make, I couldn't get along with a man who
wasn't used to the water. I need a perfect water rat."




X


A little spell of dizziness came over Frederick when he went to his cabin
to fetch his heavy overcoat. On deck it was very quiet as compared with
the morning. Hahlström was nowhere to be seen, and Frederick seated
himself on a bench near the entrance to the main companionway. With his
collar turned up and his hat drawn over his forehead, he succumbed to the
state of drowsiness characteristic of sea trips, in which, despite the
heaviness of one's eyelids, one feels and perceives with a restless
lucidity of the inner vision. Images chase through one's mind, a
kaleidoscopic stream, shifting incessantly, going and coming, and finally
reducing the soul to a state of torture. The sybaritic meal with its
clatter of plates, its talking and music, was still whirling through
Frederick's brain. He heard the vaudeville actor declaiming. The half-ape
was holding Mara in his arms. Hahlström in all his height was looking on,
smiling. The waves were rolling heavily against the tiny dining-room and
pressing hard on the creaking hull. Bismarck, a huge figure in armour,