"The man must have been a soldier," answered the General.
"Why so?" asked the President.
"I wish I could always get such clear, explicit reports from my officers. The case stands thus."
He repeated what he had just heard from Reinhold, and wound up by saying that he would speak to the Captain about the immediate disembarkation of such passengers as wished it.
"For my part, I do not intend to put myself to such inconvenience, which may be unnecessary too, unless Elsa----"
"I, papa!" cried Elsa, "I should not think of such a thing."
The President was in much embarrassment. It was true that he had only that morning, on leaving Stettin, renewed a very slight former acquaintance with General von Werben; but now, after he had been in conversation with him all day, and had taken every opportunity of showing attentions to his daughter, he could not well do otherwise than declare, with a quiver of the lips, which was meant for a smile, that he would share with them as formerly the pleasures, so now the disagreeables of the journey. Should the worst come to the worst, the Prussian Government would be able to console itself for the loss of a president, who besides, as the father of six hopeful children, would have his name handed down to posterity, and could therefore make no claim upon the sympathy of his contemporaries.
Notwithstanding his resigned words, the worthy official was very uncomfortable at heart. In secret he cursed his own inconceivable thoughtlessness in having trusted himself to a "tub," merely to be at home a day sooner, instead of waiting for the next day's mail-boat; he cursed the General's "stupid security," and the young lady's "coquettish affectation of courage," and when a few minutes later the large boat was really launched, and in an incredibly short time, as it seemed to him, filled with the happily small number of deck passengers, and a few ladies and gentlemen from the after-cabin, and at first with a few powerful strokes of the oars, and soon after with sails hoisted, made all speed to the shore, he sighed deeply, and firmly resolved, at whatever cost, even at that of a scornful smile from the young lady's lips, that he also would leave the ship before night.
And night was approaching only too rapidly for his fears. The evening glow in the western sky was fading with every minute, and from the east, from the open sea, it grew darker and darker. How long would it be before the land, which to his short-sighted eyes already appeared only as an indistinct outline through the evening mists, would disappear altogether from his sight?
And there could be no doubt, too, that the waves were rising higher every minute, here and there even for the first time that day showing crests of white foam, and breaking with ever-increasing force against the unlucky ship! Added to this the horrible creaking of the yards, the dismal howling of the wind in the rigging, the intolerable roaring and hissing of the steam, which was being almost incessantly let off from the overheated boiler! The boiler would blow up perhaps finally, and the shattered limbs of the man who but now was buttoning up his overcoat, would be sent flying hither and thither through the air.
The President grew so hot at this idea that he unbuttoned his coat and then buttoned it up again as he was struck by the ice-cold wind.
"It is unendurable!" muttered he.
Elsa had long since observed how very little the President liked remaining on board ship, and that he had only made up his mind to it with evident unwillingness, out of consideration for his travelling companions.
She had been maliciously amused at first with the embarrassment which he tried to conceal, but now her good-nature conquered. He was after all an elderly gentleman, and apparently not very strong, and a civilian! he could not of course be expected to have either the intrepid courage or the indifference to hardships of her father, who had not even put on his greatcoat yet, and was now taking his usual evening walk up and down the deck. But papa had made up his mind, once for all, to remain; it would be quite useless to try to persuade him to go. "He must devise some means!" said she to herself.
Reinhold had disappeared after his last words with her father, and was not now on the after-deck; she went forward, therefore, and found him sitting on a great chest, looking through a pocket telescope towards the shore so intently that she had come close to him before he remarked her. He sprang hastily to his feet and turned towards her.
"How far have they got?" asked Elsa.
"They will land directly," he answered. "Will you look through this?"
He handed her the glass. At the moment when she touched it the metal still retained some warmth from the hand which had held it. In general this was not at all a pleasant sensation to her, but on this occasion she did not perceive it. She thought of it for a moment as she tried to bring the spot which he pointed out to her within the focus of the glass.
The attempt was unsuccessful; she could see nothing but undefined mist.
"I would rather trust to my eyes!" cried she, putting down the telescope. "I can see it so, quite plainly, there close in shore--in the white streak. What is that?"
"The surf."
"What has become of the sail?"
"It has been taken in so as not to have too much way on as they run in. But really you have a sailor's eye!"
Elsa smiled at the compliment, and Reinhold smiled too. Their looks met, and remained turned upon each other.
"I have a request to make to you," said Elsa, without dropping her eyes.
"And I was about to make one to you," answered he, looking steadily into the brown stars which shone up towards him, "I wanted to ask you also to go on shore. We shall be afloat in an hour, but the night will be stormy, and we shall be obliged to anchor as soon as we have passed Wissow Head." He pointed to the promontory. "Under the best of circumstances the situation would not be pleasant, at the worst it might be very unpleasant. I should like to know that you were safe from either alternative."
"Thank you," said Elsa, "and now my request need not be made;" and she told Reinhold why she had come.
"That happens most fortunately," cried he, "but there is not a moment to lose. I will speak to your father immediately. We must go at once."
"We?"
"With your permission I will take you on shore myself."
"Thank you," said Elsa again, with a deep breath. She held out her hand to him; he took the small delicate hand in his, and again their looks met.
"That hand may be trusted," thought Elsa, "and the eyes too!" And aloud she said: "You must not think, however, that I am afraid of remaining here! it is really only on the poor President's account."
She withdrew her hand, and hastened away towards her father, who was already surprised at her long absence, and now came in search of her.
In the act of following her, Reinhold saw lying at his feet a little pale grey glove. She must have dropped it just now, as she took the telescope.
He stooped quickly, picked it up, and put it in his pocket.
"She will not have that back again," said he to himself.
CHAPTER III.
Reinhold was right; there was not a moment to be lost. As the little boat which he steered cut through the foaming waters, the sky was gradually obscured by black clouds which threatened soon to extinguish the last gleam of light in the west. In addition to this the wind, which was blowing violently, veered suddenly round from south to north, and it became necessary, in order to enable the boat to return more quickly to the ship, to land at a different place from that where the large boat, which they already saw on its way back, had discharged its passengers. This had been at the fishing village of Ahlbeck, in the centre of the bay, immediately under Wissow Head. They were obliged to keep close to the wind, and