oss."

But the heavens darkened, the woods blackened, and the light of a ghostly
moon rose over the trees, rushing fearfully like great waters. Frederick
ran along the edge of gloomy fields, when suddenly the cry "Moira!
Moira!" resounded, and a piece of the darkness severed itself from the
edge of the woods and soared heavily, as if borne by mighty black
pinions. It was a gigantic bird, crying, "Moira, Moira!" Frederick fled.
He was struck by hideous fear, as if the fearful roc were after him.
"Moira, Moira!" He drew his penknife to defend himself.

He awoke to find himself lying undressed in his berth. Someone had
discovered him, as he had discovered Achleitner the night before, and had
led him down to his cabin. But the cry "Moira!" which reminded him of the
Moerae, the ancient goddesses of fate, still rang fearfully in his ears.

XLV

It was still long before daylight, and he fell asleep again. This time
on awaking he found himself in the corridor speaking to some stewards,
already at work. It slowly dawned upon him that he was clad in nothing
but his night-shirt and must have been walking in his sleep. What, had he
turned into a somnambulist! He was utterly disconcerted and ashamed and
had to let one of the stewards help him back to his cabin.

He found his cabin covered with about three inches of water, from a leaky
pipe. Crawling into bed, he squeezed himself, to keep from being tossed
out, into a hollow between the boards, a method he himself had devised.

Shortly after six, he was on deck sitting on his bench, warming his hands
on his hot tea-cup. The weather was frightful. The morning was of an icy
dreariness unsurpassed. The fury of the sea had waxed. The falling
twilight was a new sort of darkness. The roaring of the waters and the
raging of the winds were deafening. Frederick's ear-drums ached. But the
ship struggled on, managing to pursue its course, though slowly.

And suddenly--Frederick did not know whether to trust his hearing--above
the noise of the sea rose Ariel strains, beginning solemnly and swelling
serenely. It was the chords and melodies of a church choral. He was moved
almost to tears. He recollected that this dreary morning was a Sunday
morning, and the orchestra, even in the midst of the cyclone, was
carrying out its instructions to begin the day with devotional music.
It was playing in the unused smoking-room half way up the companionway,
whence the strains ascended faintly to