At first they were inclined to take his advice, but in the course of the
meal, after one of the sailors had served an immense cut of roast beef,
and the captain had carved it, and they had washed the meat down with red
wine, their spirits rose from moment to moment.
Bulke appeared at the door showing evidences of the royal banquet to
which he and the sailors of the _Roland_ had been treated by the sailors
of the _Hamburg_. Notwithstanding his condition, pardonable enough in
the circumstances, he would not go to sleep without first receiving
instructions from Doctor Wilhelm and Frederick, before whom he stood in
military attitude, hand to his cap, awaiting orders.
It was decided that the sailor-nurse and another sailor of the _Hamburg_
should go on night duty, since all the men from the _Roland_ needed rest
and sleep.
Though Frederick's and Doctor Wilhelm's spirits rose visibly, they never
referred to the sinking of the _Roland_. It was too tremendous a thing,
too dreadful, too near for any of the survivors, except the sailors, to
speak of it without intense emotion. It was like a dull weight on their
souls. Whatever Wilhelm and Frederick said related merely to their
difficulties in the life-boat, or to the trip on the _Roland_ before it
overstepped that moment in eternity which determined its awful fate.
"Captain," said Frederick, "you don't know how astonishing it is to be
raised from the dead. Conceive a man who has taken definite leave of
everything that was dear to him in life, who has felt the rattle in his
throat, and received extreme unction, and death, death itself, has
settled on his flesh and limbs. I still feel death in my joints. And yet
I am sitting here in safety, in the pleasant lamplight, almost as in a
circle of friends and relatives. I am sitting in the cosiest home, with
the difference that I still cannot get myself to look upon you"--they
were the captain, the engineer, the boatswain, and the first mate--"as
something so insignificant as mere men."
"When we sighted the _Hamburg_", said Wilhelm, "I had just made my last
will and testament. You see I don't give myself up for lost as quickly as
my friend, Doctor von Kammacher. When your ship gradually grew from the
size of a pinhead to the size of a full-grown pea, all of us who could,
screamed at the top of our voices. We nearly burst our throats screaming.
And when your _Hamburg_ attained the size of a walnut, and we realised we
had been sighted, your ship flamed in my eyes like a huge diamond or
ruby, and to me the east from which you came shone more brilliantly than
the west, where the sun was still shining above the horizon. All of us
howled like watch-dogs."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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