"A vessel of the Hamburg-American line, a twin-screw steamer, the
_Nordmania_, running for only a year, had a mishap about six hundred
miles out from New York. It turned back and reached Hoboken safely.
The sea was comparatively calm, but all of a sudden a waterspout arose
close to the ship, and a great mass of water burst over the ladies'
saloon, crushing through its roof and the roof of the deck below and
hurling a piano down into the very hold."
The other piece of news he told was that Schweninger was in Friedrichsruh
with Bismarck and that Bismarck's death was being expected hourly. Though
both Doctor Wilhelm and Frederick von Kammacher disapproved of Bismarck's
exceptional anti-Socialist law and its consequences, they were filled
with hero worship of the man, Doctor Wilhelm the more so, since the home
of his childhood stood on the edge of Sachsenwald, scarcely an hour's
ride from Friedrichsruh. He was choke-full, of course, of local Bismarck
anecdotes and began to reel them off.
"Are you annoyed?" Bismarck asked his barber, when he came in one day
with his moustache twirled upward in the new fashion of the race tracks.
"A moustache trimmed and twisted like that to me looks as if it were
terribly annoyed and for no reason."
VII
The international gong had not been introduced on the _Roland_. The
trumpeter of the band sent two blasts across the promenade deck and
through the corridors of the first cabin as a signal for the midday meal.
The first blast entered with the howling of the wind into the close,
noisy, crowded smoking saloon. The attendant of the man without arms came
to conduct his master across the deck again. Frederick watched the
armless man with great interest. He seemed to be extraordinarily brisk
and quick-witted. He spoke English, French and German with equal fluency,
and to everybody's delight parried the impertinences of a saucy young
American, whose disrespectfulness did not yield even before the sacred
person of the captain; for which the dignified skipper sometimes rewarded
him by staring over his head like a lion over a yapping terrier.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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