strength in the steamer's fixed course, in the way it clove the rolling
crests of the bottle-green waves, steady, tranquil, fearless. He admired
the _Roland_, praised it, and was grateful to it as to a living being.

Next after him to appear on deck were three children, two girls and a
boy, of from five to eleven. One of the helpful stewards fastened their
chairs and most solicitously guided them to their seats, one at a time.
Children are spoiled on steamers. There they sat, rocked to and fro,
fearlessly looking out upon the solemn, awful rolling of the long waves,
upon the horror of the tempest.

Shortly after seven o'clock, a slim man wearing the ship's uniform slowly
approached Frederick. Frederick had noticed him the day before and been
interested by his air of cool impassibility. He was smoking a cigarette
and inhaling, as when Frederick had first seen him. Wearing an expression
of profound apathy, he seemed to be completely absorbed in this
occupation of smoking and inhaling. As if casually, he drew near
Frederick's bench, touched his cap, and said:

"Doctor von Kammacher?"

"Yes."

"Here is a letter for you," he said, drawing it from his waistcoat
pocket. "It came by the French pilot-boat yesterday. The reason I did not
deliver it is, that I could not find your name on the passenger list. My
name is Rinck. I am in charge of the mail on board."

Frederick thanked him. He was moved to see his father's handwriting.
Rather for the sake of being friendly than from genuine interest at that