I refused to look at the two passengers, and went to the forward end of the poop, and looked down at the Chinks, who were seated in the waterways eating their rice and long-lick—molasses. Just what to do with these fellows seemed to me a problem. We could hardly lock them in now, and if trouble came along quickly they would be in it, right in the middle.
The old man came from below, and gazed solemnly across the misty sea, and I went to him.
"How about it?" he asked. "Hadn't we better house them Chinks now, before it's too late? They'll die of suffocation in those alleyways with the ports shut fast—I suppose you shut the ports in, didn't you?" he said.
"Sure. Everything is snugged in below. Komuri saw to it. He knows how to talk to the Mongolians—tell them they must keep the ports shut. But I don't like leaving them on deck, even if it is hot enough to roast potatoes on the deck planks. How's the glass, sir?"
"Bottom dropped out of it somehow; mercury concave and 'way down. There's some unusual disturbance knocking about this sea. There's trouble ahead—typhoon season, you know. Nothing but wind moves that awful swell. Look at that!"
A hill of water rolled majestically onward, catching us under the counter, and sending us along its great, smooth crest, then dropping us again as we had hardly steering way under the short canvas.
"I'd like to know which way it's coming—lay our course to drift out of it, or run, but who knows—who knows before it strikes? I wish you would see to the gear forward. I don't want things to get loose. And take charge. No, sir; don't let anything out of the way happen while you're on deck."
I saw the old man was getting nervous. The low pressure and the sultriness were telling on him. He knew what was coming well enough, and fretted under it. It was hard waiting, even for an old seaman like himself. Slade came on deck, and puffed carelessly at his pipe, gazing about, and then going aft to chat with the ladies. He was always ready to cheer them up. Nothing would happen—positively nothing. There was no use of their getting nervous at the heavy swell. It had often happened before—a heavy swell and no wind, 'way out here in the middle of the Pacific. No telling where the storm might be, but, of course it wouldn't be near us—oh, no.
Oleson came aft to me.
"Shall I lock in the Chinks?" he asked.