"Oh, I'll be down directly," he had answered. "I've no wish to lay myself up again."
The company at table fell into talk, and it was some time before they dispersed.
"It is time Mr. Grossman was down," said the doctor; "did you see him, steward?"
"I saw him near an hour ago, sir, he stopped on his way up to light his cigar at the tinder lamp on the stairs."
The doctor went up, but no Herr Grossman was to be seen. He and others hunted all over the ship. At last a sort of panic prevailed. Where was he? What had happened? The ship was stopped and boats lowered. Captain Wylie was one of those who volunteered to go with the search party. Clouds of mist hung over the sea, and although lanterns were held aloft, nothing was visible.
The search was in vain. No one ever knew precisely what had happened, nor would know. Whether a sudden giddiness seized him, or whether he leaned too far forward, misled by the fog which makes things look so different; certain it is that he had disappeared—not even his umbrella was found.
No one slept that night; a great awe had settled down over the whole ship.
The next day a furious gale sprang up. Captain Wylie, who was an old sailor, crawled up on deck; he was used to roughing it, and the waves dashing over him as they swept the deck had an invigorating effect.
"We ought to be in this afternoon," shouted the captain, as he passed, "but the propeller has come to grief; you see we are not moving, and hard enough it will be to fix the other in in such weather," and he looked anxiously around. The wind almost blew his words away.
Captain Wylie then perceived that they were in the trough of the sea, helplessly tossed about, while the waves were mounting high, and any moment the engine fires might be extinguished. Should that happen, indeed they would be in a bad strait.