"But the Japanese don't wear pigtails," said the New Yorker, somewhat abashed.
"Those Japanese do wear pigtails," said the Englishman with a grin.
"What's up?" said the captain, looking involuntarily towards the entrance to the dining-saloon. "What's up? We're only going at half speed."
The dull throbbing of the engine had indeed stopped, and any one who noticed the vibration of the ship could tell that the propeller was revolving only slightly.
The captain got up quietly to go on deck, but as he was making his way out between the long rows of chairs, he met one of the crew, who whispered to him that the first mate begged him to come on the bridge.
"We're not moving," said some one near the center of the table. "We can't have arrived this soon."
"Perhaps we have met a disabled ship," said a young French girl; "that would be awfully interesting."
The captain remained away, while the dinner continued to be served. Suddenly all conversation was stopped by the dull howl of the steam whistle, and when two more calls followed the first, an old globe trotter thought he had discovered the reason for the ship's slowing down, and declared with certainty: "This is the third time on my way to Japan that we have run into a fog just before entering the harbor; the last time it made us a day and a half late. I tell you it was no joke to sit in that gray mist with nothing to do but wait for the fog to lift——" and then he narrated a few anecdotes about that particular voyage, which at once introduced the subject of fog at his table, a subject that was greedily pounced upon by all. London fog and other fogs were discussed, and no one noticed that the ship had come to a full stop and was gradually beginning to pitch heavily, a motion that soon had the effect of causing several of the ladies to abandon the conversation and play nervously with their coffee-spoons, as the nightmare of seasickness forced itself every moment more disagreeably on their memories.
A few of the men got up and went on deck. A merchant from San Francisco came down and told his wife that a strange ship not far from the Tacoma had its searchlights turned on her. No reason for this extraordinary proceeding could be given, as the officers seemed to know as little about it as the passengers.
The fourth officer, whose place was at the head of one of the long tables, now appeared in the dining-saloon, and was at once besieged with questions from all sides. In a loud voice he announced that the captain wished him to say that there was no cause for alarm. A strange ship had its searchlights turned on the Tacoma, probably a man-of-war that had some communication to make. The captain begged the passengers not to allow themselves to be disturbed in their dinner. The next course was served immediately afterwards, the reason for the interruption was soon forgotten, and conversation continued as before.