mentally climbed to
still lonelier regions, and saw himself a hermit, who prayed, drank
nothing but water, and lived on roots, nuts, and sometimes a fish of his
own catching.

When the captain returned and he and Frederick had taken leave of each
other, this is what he found in his book:

Borne aloft on wave and ocean,
Of thy master's course partaking,
Some day thou wilt cease thy motion,
Of thy master's rest partaking.
In the garden of his stillness,
To his manly deeds inspiring,
Thou wilt faithfully bear witness.
Thou art language well becoming
Him who daily danger faces,
Gratitude of souls proclaiming,
Whom he bore through cosmic spaces.

The signature was

"Frederick von Kammacher, Globetrotter."

XXI

Frederick, holding on to his hat with one hand and clinging to the
railing with the other, descended from the windy heights of the captain's
cabin to the promenade deck. When he passed the cabin of the first mate,
the door opened, and Von Halm appeared in conversation with Achleitner.
Achleitner was pale, and there was an anxious look in his face.

"I have rented the lieutenant's cabin for Miss Hahlstroem. I could not
bear to see her suffering so in her own cabin," he called to Frederick.

The gale had increased. Not a passenger was to be seen on deck. Sailors
were inspecting the life-boats. Huge masses of water seethed against the
ship's side, cutting into its course obliquely. The waves made a mad leap
into the air, hung there for an instant in the form of white corals, and
fell like a thousand lashes on the deck, which was all awash. The breath
of the gale tore the smoke backward from the mouths of the smoke-stacks
and scattered it in the wild chaos in which heaven and sea were mingled.
Frederick glanced down at the fore-deck. In his burning brain arose a
thought of the Jewess and then of the scoundrel, Wilke. But the fore-deck
was so swept by the seas that nobody could keep his footing there, except
the lookout men, who were holding watch at the beak of the vessel, not
far from the cat-head.

Between the door leading to the main companionway and the companionway
itself was a square level space, about which a railing ran and in which
a few people could stay and enjoy the fresh air without being drenched.
When Frederick, on his way below deck, passed through the open door, he
found a quiet assemblage of pale-faced passengers. One chair was still
unoccupied. He seated him