And what horrible extremes of suffering he had to go through!

Opposite Frederick, at the entrance to the companionway, stood a
cabin-boy. From time to time at the signal of a whistle from the bridge,
he would disappear to receive orders from the first or second mate, or
whatever officer happened to be on duty. Often an hour and more would
pass without the summons, and the handsome lad had plenty of time to
meditate upon himself and his lot in life. Frederick felt sorry for him
as he stood there on guard, bored and chilly; so he spoke to him.

He learned that his name was Max Pander and that he came from near the
Black Forest. The next logical question to put to him was whether he
liked his work. The boy answered with a resigned smile, which heightened
the charm of his handsome head, but showed he had none too much passion
for the seaman's calling.

"There is not much in travelling on steamers," he observed. "A real
sailor belongs on board a sailing vessel. There is a mate of mine here
on the _Roland_," he added in a tone of great admiration, "who is only
eighteen years old and has already been on two long, dangerous trips on
a schooner."

To Frederick, it seemed as if lasting passion for the sea--the sea, which
was already making him miserable--must be a conventional myth. It was
three o'clock. He had been on board only nineteen or twenty hours, and
already found it a petty hardship. "If the _Roland_ doesn't make better
time," he calculated, "I shall have to go through the same difficulties
of existence eight or nine times twenty-four hours. But I will get back
to land and remain there, while Pander, the cabin-boy, will have to