A tiny chapel, capable of holding about twenty people, had been built on the top of a very steep hill in the “park.” Every Sunday morning we toiled pantingly up to _Gottes-Dienst_. A stalwart clergyman came over from Elbing to hold the service, and always stood at the door of the church and shook hands with each worshipper, saying, “God greet you.” He seemed almost a size too large for the chapel, so tall and broad was he. From the doorway was a wide view over the Haff, which was always muddy in colour except at sunrise, when it was blue, and at sunset, when it turned yellow and pink and sometimes blood-red; but beyond it there was always a clear strip of deeper blue--the waters of the Baltic, or Ost-See (East Sea) as it is called in Germany. We grew to know the Haff very well, for every afternoon the children were taken across it in a little steamer to bathe at a tiny place called Kahlberg, which lay on the farther shore. This small steamer, called the _Radaune_, was hired from somebody in Danzig for a few weeks every summer, and manned by three mariners whom the children considered with much reason to be the cleverest and most delightful men they had ever met. One named Vigand was captain and steersman, another attended to the machinery, and a third just hovered generally around, fetching out camp-stools and answering questions, at which he showed himself most fluent and explanatory. Prince Joachim, under Vigand’s strict tuition, took lessons in steering; and the duties of the man at the engine were not so arduous but that he found time to pop his head up on deck and join in the conversation for several minutes at a time. The doctor and both the tutors, two maids and two footmen, also two dogs, always accompanied us; for we took tea on to the shore as well as bath towels and changes of dry garments, as the Princess had a knack of falling into a wave fully dressed, so that one had to be prepared for emergencies. The Haff itself was a greasy, oily, rather smelly stretch of water in the hot weather--so stagnant that a small weed grew on its surface--but it suffered occasional violent storms, which dispelled the oily greasiness but tossed the tiny steamer up and down in a manner most disagreeable to indifferent sailors. Fortunately it only took half an hour to get to the opposite side, but even that was too long for some people, and they succumbed to the horrors of sea-sickness almost in sight of port. Arrived on the other side, we had, until a small pier was built, to get into a boat and row to shore, then walk over a strip of sand, which took perhaps seven or eight minutes, and there on the other side lay the sand-dunes with the beautiful clean Baltic Sea dimpling in a curve of white foam.