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.
The table in the dining-room was in the form of a trident, with the
closed end at the rear and the three prongs pointing to the prow.
Opposite the centre prong was a false mantel with a mirror, where
was posted the elegant figure in blue livery of Mr. Pfundner, the
head-steward. He was a man of between forty and fifty. With his white,
artificially curled hair, which gave the impression of being powdered, he
resembled a major-domo of Louis XIV's time. As he stood there, head
erect, looking over the swaying hall, he seemed to be the special squire
of Captain von Kessel, who sat at the end of the middle prong, in the
capacity both of host and most honoured guest. Next to the captain sat
Doctor Wilhelm and the first mate. Frederick, having found favour in the
captain's eyes, was assigned a place next to Doctor Wilhelm. The ship
was no longer tossing so violently, and the dining-room, in consequence,
was fairly well filled. The last ones to enter were the card players of
the smoking-room, who came storming in. At the closed end of the trident,
Frederick saw Mr. Hahlström, but without his daughter.
Many stewards very quickly and deftly served a vast quantity of dishes.
Wine was also placed on the table. Within a short while the corks were
popping from champagne bottles in the vicinity of the card players. In
a gallery the band played without interruption. There were seven numbers
on the printed music programme, which bore the name of the vessel, the
date, and a picture of negroes in evening dress and high hats plucking
at banjos.