It was the fifth of February, about thirteen days after the _Roland_
had left Bremen, and twelve after Frederick had boarded the _Roland_
at the Needles in the Channel, when the pilot took the guidance of
the _Hamburg_. Compared with the length of the _Fürst Bismarck's_
record-making passage, this was an extremely long time. But how
inconceivably brief it seemed to him when he recalled all he had
experienced in that period, both in his waking and sleeping hours. On
the _Hamburg_, he no longer dreamed at night. A mighty blast had swept
his soul clean and denuded it of all images.
Shortly before ten o'clock in the morning of the sixth of February,
Captain Butor, standing back of Ella Liebling, who was sitting under
the telescope merrily kicking her thin legs, spied land. It was a
tremendously stirring moment when the news was carried to the passengers.
The steward that called it into Frederick's cabin and the next instant
disappeared little realised how his brief announcement, "Land!" affected
the stranger. Frederick closed the door, shaken by great, hollow,
toneless sobs coming from the depths of his being.
"Such is life," went through his heart. "Did not a steward on a gloomy,
horrid night call 'Danger!' into my cabin, like the shouting of a death
sentence into the cell of a poor sinner by both the judge and the
hangman? And now comes the peaceful piping of the shepherd's reed, while
the thunder is still rolling." It was not until his sobbing ceased that
he felt a thrill of bliss, as if life were again drawing near in triumph.
A flash of feeling set him afire, as when a vast army approaches with
music playing and banners flying, an army of invincible brethren, among
whom he is safe at home again. Never before had life come rolling toward
him in waves so strong or colours so shining. One must have been cast
very, very deep down in darkness and confusion to learn that there is no
more glorious sun in all God's heavens than the sun that shines upon our
earth.
The other passengers from the _Roland_ were each in his own way affected
by the call of "Land!" Mrs. Liebling was heard to cry for Rosa and
Flitte.
"By Jove, you rascal," said Arthur Stoss to his faithful Bulke, "by Jove,
we'll feel the land under our soles again after all."
Doctor Wilhelm peeped into Frederick's cabin.
"Congratulate you, Doctor von Kammacher," he said. "The land of
Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci has been sighted. We enjoy the
advantage of having no trunks to pack."
Suddenly the fat little engineer, Mr. Wendler, was peering over Doctor
Wilhelm's shoulder.
"Doctor," he cried, wringing his hands with a comic air of helplessness,
"you must come right on deck. Your ward is crying her eyes out." He
referred, of course, to Ingigerd.
She was still crying when Frederick reached deck. His attempts at
consolation did not touch her. He had never before seen her cry, and the
state she was in, so like the one from which he himself had scarcely
emerged, aroused his pity and sympathy, which, however, were rather of
a paternal sort, untinged by his former passion.
"I am not to blame," she suddenly said, "that my father lost his life. I
am not even responsible for Mr. Achleitner. I did my best to dissuade him
from making the trip."
Frederick stroked Ingigerd's hand.
"All due respect to Achleitner, but if I mourn single victims of that
fearful night, I first think of the heroes of the _Roland_, Captain von
Kessel, his mate, Von Halm, and all those picked braves who really died
like great men fulfilling their duty. They are a loss to the world. At
the first sight of them, I, in my innocence, actually believed the Lord
would never permit their destruction."