The Captain, meanwhile, had made room in the cabin for Pastor Hehrmann's family, and had the women at least, and their beds, removed thither. Mrs. Hehrmann, indeed, was more dead than alive, and she scarcely could have got through such another night of terror. The Pastor himself no longer opposed this removal, for he could not help seeing that his family, although not brought up in luxury, yet never had been exposed to similar sufferings, and could hardly have borne a life surrounded by such scenes--but he himself would not forsake the steerage. There the scene was a shocking one, and pen or pencil would be too weak to attempt its description. The corpse was carried by the sailors towards the hatchway, and there handed to those above, who laid it on a plank and bore it to the lee side of the vessel. In spite of the rolling of the ship, in spite of the constant washing of the waves across the deck, although none other of the passengers, no, not even the committee, came to his side, the worthy Pastor Hehrmann, amidst the howling of the storm and the dashing of the waves, spoke a brief service for the dead over the body of the poor old woman, for whom the wild waves, instead of the arms of an affectionate son, now waited. The corpse was then lifted on the edge of the bulwarks, which were gliding, with an arrow's speed, through the foaming waters, and scarcely two feet elevated above them, (so inclined was the ship,) and in the next minute the sea engulfed its victim. But where, in this time of need and sorrow, was the committee, who had pledged themselves to provide during the voyage for the well-being and comfort of the travellers who had confided themselves to their care? Where was this committee, when all were calling for them, and wished for their help, or at all events their sympathy? Alas, the poor committee itself lay in the most pitiable condition, sea sick to a fearful degree, up and down about the cabin. The Captain could not be blamed if he swore a little, and declared that in whatever part of his cabin he got to, he could not help treading upon some member of this "extensive" committee, who, deaf to everything beside, only sighed and groaned, and called on death to relieve him from his misery. When the Captain told them of the case of death in the steerage, M. Von Schwanthal, raising himself a little by a leg of a camp stool, dolefully exclaimed, "Alas, who could the old woman be!" and sank back again exhausted, whilst the other members said nothing, but merely shook their heads gently and significantly.