Atlantis

An Excerpt from the book-

PART I

The German fast mail steamer, _Roland_, one of the older vessels of the
North German Steamship Company, plying between Bremen and New York, left
Bremen on the twenty-third of January, 1892.

It had been built in English yards with none of those profuse, gorgeous
gold decorations in a riotous rococo style which are so unpleasant in the
saloons and cabins of ships more recently built in German yards.

The crew of the vessel included the captain, four officers, two engineers
of the first rank, assistant engineers, firemen, coal-passers, oilers, a
purser, the head-steward and the second steward, the chef, the second
cook, and a doctor. In addition to these men with their assistants, to
whom the well-being of that tremendous floating household was entrusted,
there were, of course, a number of sailors, stewards, stewardesses,
workers in the kitchen, and so on, besides two cabin-boys and a nurse.
There was also an officer in charge of the mail on board. The vessel was
carrying only a hundred cabin passengers from Bremen; but in the steerage
there were four hundred human beings.

Frederick von Kammacher, to whom, the day before, the _Roland_ had been
non-existent, telegraphed from Paris to have a cabin on it reserved for
him. Haste was imperative. After receiving notification from the company
that the cabin was being held, he had only an hour and a half in which to
catch the express that would bring him to Havre at about twelve o'clock.
From Havre he crossed to Southampton, spending the night in a bunk in
one of those wretched saloons in which a number of persons are herded
together. But he managed to sleep the whole time, and the crossing went
without incident.

At dawn he was on deck watching England's ghostly coast-line draw nearer
and nearer, until finally the steamer entered the port of Southampton,
where he was to await the _Roland_.

At the steamship office, he was told that the _Roland_ would scarcely
make Southampton before evening, and at seven o'clock a tender would be
at the pier to convey the passengers to the ship as soon as it was
sighted. That meant twelve idle hours in a dreary foreign town, with the
thermometer at ten degrees below freezing-point. Frederick decided to
take a room in a hotel, and, if possible, pass some of the time in sleep.

In a shop window he saw a display of cigarettes of the brand of Simon
Arzt of Port Said. He entered the shop, which a maid was sweeping, and
bought several hundred. It was an act dictated by sentiment rather than
by a desire for enjoyment. The cigarettes of Simon Arzt of Port Said were
excellent, the best he had ever smoked; but the significance they had
acquired for him was not due to any intrinsic virtue of theirs.

He carried an alligator portfolio in his waistcoat pocket. In that
portfolio, among other things, was a letter he had received the very day
he left Paris:

* * * * *

Dear Frederick,

It's no use. I left the sanatorium in the Harz and returned to my
parents' home a lost man. That cursed winter in the Heuscheuer Mountains!
After a stay in tropical countries, I should not have thrown myself into
the fangs of such a winter. Of course, the worst thing was my
predecessor's fur coat. To my predecessor's fur coat I owe my sweet fate.
May the devil in hell take special delight in burning it. I need scarcely
tell you that I gave myself copious injections of tuberculin and spat
a considerable number of bacilli. But enough remained behind to provide
me with a speedy _exit us letalis_.

Now for the essential. I must settle my bequests. I find I owe you three
thousand marks. You made it possible for me to complete my medical
studies. To be sure, they have failed me miserably. But that, of course,
you cannot help, and, curiously enough, now that all's lost, the thing
that most bothers me is the horrid thought that I cannot repay you.