There are heard sighs and prayers. Great is the danger and dreadful the calamity,--and everybody prays to his God that He may save and liberate the people from sure death. Children weep, women wail; the people cry and confess their sins; souls flutter, bodies tremble in terror of the angry, destructive wind. But below, in the steerage, two men sit quietly; no pain assails them; they seek no salvation, they make no plans, just as if all were safe and calm about them. The water roars, the billows foam; the wind whines and howls insanely; the boiler gasps, the chimney buzzes,--but the men below, behold, they are silent now! They look coolly into the eyes of Death; the dangerous might of the storm touches them not; it seems as though Death had reared the two in terror and dark night. "Wer seid ihr, Unglückliche,--lässt es doch hören,-- Wās können varschweigen die gwaldigste Nōt, Wās hāben kēin Süfzen, un' hāben kēin Trähren, Afile bei'm schrecklichen Thōer vun Tōdt? "Sāgt, hāben euch take nor Kworim geboren? Ihr lāsst gār kēin Elteren, Weib oder Kind, Zu wēinen auf euch, wenn ihr werd't dā varloren In tiefen, in schrecklichen Ābgrund azünd? "Wie? Lāsst ihr nit Kēinem, wās ihm soll vardriessen, Wās er soll wenn baenken, zu lāsen a Trähr, Wenn euch wet der nasser Bessōlem vargiessen, Wenn ihr wet dā kēin Māl zurückkehren mehr? "Wie? Hā't ihr kēin Vāterland gār, kēin Medine, Kēin Hēim, wu zu kummen, kēin freundliche Stub', Wās ihr hā't behalten in sich asa Ssine Zum Leben un' wart't auf der finsterer Grub'? "Ihr hā't gār nit Kēinem in Himmel dort ōben, Zu wemen zu schreien, wenn ihr seid in Zar? Ihr hā't gār kēin Volk nit, ihr hā't gār kēin Gläuben? Varlorene, wās is' mit euch far a Gsar?" Es gänezt der Ābgrund, es brausen die Inden, Es krachen die Leiters vun Schiff, un' es trāgt, Es hulet der Sturem, es pfeifen die Winden, Un' Ēiner hāt endlich mit Trähren gesāgt: "Der schwarzer Bessōlem is' nit unser Mutter, Nit is' unser Wiegel der Keewer gewe'n;-- Es hāt uns geboren a Malach a guter, A teuere Mutter, mit Liebe varsehn. "Who are you, wretched ones, tell me, that you can suppress the most terrible sufferings, that you have no sighs and no tears even at the awful gates of Death? "Say, have, indeed, graves brought you forth? Do you leave behind you no parents, no wife, no child who will lament you when you are lost here in the deep and dreadful abyss? "How? Have you no one to be sorry for you, to long for you, or shed a tear, when the wet cemetery will cover you, when you will no more return to this earth? "How? Have you no fatherland, no country, no home where to go to, no friendly house, that you bear such a contempt for life, and are waiting for the dark grave? "Have you no one in heaven above to whom to cry when you are in trouble? Have you no nation, have you no faith? Miserable ones, what is your fate?"