I remember now with remorse the horrible disgust that took possession of me when the doctor handed the child over to me to wash. That dirty little red, moving, sticky object was a human being. It had a soul, and would have thoughts! I felt quite sick, and I could never again look at that child, although I was afterwards its godmother, without living over again that first impression. When the young mother had fallen asleep I wanted to go back to my cabin. The doctor helped me, but the sea was so rough that we could scarcely walk at all among the packages and emigrants. Some of them who were crouching on the floor watched us silently as we tottered and stumbled along like drunkards. I was annoyed at being watched by those malevolent, mocking eyes. “I say, doctor,” one of the men called out, “the sea water gets in the head like wine. You and your lady look as though you were coming back from a spree!” An old woman clung to me as we passed: “Oh, Madame,” she said, “shall we be shipwrecked with the boat rolling like this? Oh God! Oh God!” A tall fellow with red hair and beard came forward and laid the poor old woman down again gently. “You can sleep in peace, mother,” he said. “If we are shipwrecked I swear there shall be more saved down here than up above.” He then came closer to me and continued in a defiant tone: “The rich folks—first-class—into the sea! The emigrants and the second-class in the boats!” As he uttered these words I heard a sly, stifled laugh from everywhere, in front of me, behind, at the side, and even from under my feet. It seemed to echo in the distance like the laughing behind the scenes on the stage. I drew nearer to the doctor, and he saw that I was uneasy. “Nonsense,” he said, laughing; “we should defend ourselves.” “But how many _could_ be saved,” I asked, “in case we were really in danger?” “Two hundred—two hundred and fifty at the most, with all the boats out, if all arrived safely.” “But the purser told me that there were seven hundred and sixty emigrants,” I insisted, “and there are only a hundred and twenty passengers. How many do you reckon with the officers, the crew, and the servants?” “A hundred and seventy,” the doctor answered. “Then there are a thousand and fifty on board, and you can only save two hundred and fifty?” “Yes.” “Well then, I can understand the hatred of these emigrants, whom you take on board like cattle and treat like negroes. They are absolutely certain that in case of danger they would be sacrificed!” “But we should save them when their turn came.”