broken life of the sea and the untried life of the
shore. No one attempted to resume the routine of the voyage. People went
and came between their rooms and the saloons and the decks, and were no
longer careful to take their own steamer chairs when they sat down for a
moment.

In the cabins the berths were not made up, and those who remained below
had to sit on their hard edges, or on the sofas, which were cumbered
with, hand-bags and rolls of shawls. At an early hour after breakfast
the bedroom stewards began to get the steamer trunks out and pile them
in the corridors; the servants all became more caressingly attentive;
and people who had left off settling the amount of the fees they were
going to give, anxiously conferred together. The question whether you
ought ever to give the head steward anything pressed crucially at the
early lunch, and Kenby brought only a partial relief by saying that he
always regarded the head steward as an officer of the ship. March made
the experiment of offering him six marks, and the head steward took
them quite as if he were not an officer of the ship. He also collected a
handsome fee for the music, which is the tax levied on all German ships
beyond the tolls exacted on the steamers of other nations.

After lunch the flat shore at Cuxhaven was so near that the summer
cottages of the little watering-place showed through the warm drizzle
much like the summer cottages of our own shore, and if it had not
been for the strange, low sky, the Americans might easily have fancied
themselves at home again.

Every one waited on foot while the tender came out into the stream
where the Norumbia had dropped anchor. People who had brought their
hand-baggage with them from their rooms looked so much safer with it
that people who had left theirs to their stewards had to go back and
pledge them afresh not to forget it. The tender came alongside, and the
transfer of the heavy trunks began, but it seemed such an endless work
that every one sat down in some other's chair. At last the trunks were
all on the tender, and the bareheaded stewards began to run down the
gangways with the hand-baggage. "Is this Hoboken?" March murmured in his
wife's ear, with a bewildered sense of something in the scene like the
reversed action of the kinematograph.

On the deck of the tender there was a brief moment of reunion among
the companions of the voyage, the more intimate for their being crowded
together under cover fro