IN THE HUMMING engine-room the telegraph jangled and the brass pointer swung suddenly to ‘Stand By’. Niklas pushed the greasy cap to the back of his head, settled his buttocks comfortably against the rail of his catwalk and ran his eye over his gleaming kingdom. He could faintly hear the scrape of shovels and the sound of coal cascading down from the bunkers, while through the rising curtain of steam he could see his artificers making their last checks. He sighed and returned his gaze to the implacable dial, and wondered why he had not found the time to stretch his legs ashore.
Two decks above, and right forward in the eyes of the ship, Dehler leaned right out over the narrow guardrail, his shaded torch pointing down into the gently swirling water. Behind him he could hear the steam hissing on the capstan and the sharp regular clicks as the pawls dropped into place with each turn. The dripping cable moved reluctantly upwards through the hawse-pipe, where it was quickly hosed and scrubbed with long brooms before it finally vanished into the deep cable-lockers below the fo’c’sle.
Clank, clank, clank, each link of the slime-streaked cable drew the ship slowly forward towards the straining anchor, and to Dehler it seemed as if they were being drawn bodily to something even worse then before. His men whistled and chattered quietly to one another, indifferent to him, and seemingly oblivious to danger. They had changed, he thought, as if relieved of some great threat. He thought also of von Steiger and the boy on the operating table. How would I have handled that situation? He tried to believe he would have acted like the Captain, but his uncertainty only increased with the realisation that he would probably have shut his ears and relied on Kohler’s explanation as the easiest way out.
He craned his thick neck as the taut cable suddenly jerked downwards to point straight at the sea-bed. ‘Up and down!’ he yelled, and heard the report being passed to the bridge. The ship trembled, and he felt the distant screw begin to turn. A few more clanks from the capstan and the cable shook convulsively and began to swing gently like a giant pendulum. ‘Anchor’s aweigh!’ They were free of the land once more.
Von Steiger listened to the hoarse voice shouting from the shadowed deck and dug his impatient hands into his pockets.
‘Half speed ahead! Port twenty!’ He walked briskly on to the open wing and stared at the two dancing blue lights on the oily water. The whaleboats bobbed obediently on the gentle swell, the oars waiting to send them scudding ahead of their mother ship to guide her through the treacherous channel.
‘Midships! Steer north-east, Cox’n! When we are in the middle of the channel keep her head between the two lights!’ He watched the wedge of the bows settle and steady around. ‘Slow ahead!’ The vibrations died and quietened to a low, confident rumble.
He imagined the sweating oarsmen in the boats and the two leadsmen who would be leading their crews like blind men with their sticks. He had put two good petty officers in the boats, and had made sure they understood their importance.
He watched the uneven black shadows sidle past, and once caught a glimpse of a match flaring halfway up the hillside of one small islet. Probably a peasant out searching for his goats, he decided. Very soon the land will fall clear and we shall be away again. The land. So important, and yet so unknown. It might have been anywhere, any country. We touched it, and then left as quietly as we arrived. And yet we have all learned a lot by our brief visit. He thought of the relief on Fleiuss’s fat face when he had handed him the secret despatches for Berlin. The carefully worded report which he doubted if anyone would trouble to study. And Pieck’s recommendation with the letter to two lonely old folk in far-off Schleswig-Holstein. To us all these things are so vital, he thought, but who else will care?
The islet fell clear, and he could feel the heavier thrust of the unbridled water beyond the reef. ‘Stop engine!’ To his messenger he said curtly: ‘Signal the boats alongside. Quickly, man!’
A shadow joined him by the screen, and Heuss said formally, ‘Anchor secured for sea, Captain.’
‘Very well. Clear lower deck and hoist in both boats at the rush!’ He listened to the twittering of the bosun’s pipes and hear the rush of feet along the boatdeck. Although an anonymous voice rapped harshly for silence, he heard a man laugh equally loudly. A free laugh, free of the land perhaps. The blocks squeaked noisily, and the two streaming boats jerked rapidly up the tall sides.
He did not wait to see them rise above the deck level. ‘Half ahead! Steer north eighty east.’
The helmsman repeated the order, and he heard the Coxswain’s rumbling instructions as he handed over the wheel.
He leaned his chin on his hands and stared unblinkingly at the black curtain with its sprinkling of stars. Faintly against the velvet he could see the thin, sharp line of the foremast, and the watchful pod at its top. Well, H.M.S. Waltham, where are you now? Sleeping, perhaps, and resting until the dawn, or still prowling as close as you dare to the hidden coastline?
Heuss left the wheelhouse once again. ‘Ship secured for sea, Captain. Boats hoisted!’ He still waited after von Steiger’s non-committal grunt.
‘That was a fine thing you did for that seaman, sir. And I have left Alder in the sick-bay too, as you instructed.’
‘That man should never have been sent to sea, Heuss. He has suffered enough in this war. His reason is smashed. He cannot even remember if he is missed by those he has left behind, or indeed if there is anyone to miss him.’
‘And Schiller, sir?’
‘I have released him. A first-class seaman, Heuss. Not at all diplomatic, but not afraid of responsibility. I would make him a petty officer, but I see from his record that he has held rank three times already, and never for more than a week! I think he will be more use as he is.’
Heuss tried to see the Captain’s expression, and continued slowly. ‘I am sorry to hear of your new loss, sir. Your brother-in-law. I have heard that he was a fine soldier!’
‘A fine soldier.’ Von Steiger repeated the words to himself. ‘Yes, he would have liked that.’ He tried to picture the tall, one-armed officer as he had last seen him on Kiel railway station. The haunted eyes, the lost youth. He had looked at the Vulkan’s replacements and had said that his own men were like them. Untrained, pathetic in their helplessness. I hope they followed you as my men followed me, he thought bleakly. I am leading them to their death, yet they follow like sheep. They are happy because I have not turned my back on injustice, yet they are all here because of an even greater injustice. Aloud he said, ‘When I think of men like him, and what they are enduring even at this moment, I thank God that my father put me in the Navy!’
Heuss asked guardedly, ‘And will you put your son to sea, sir?’
‘Rudolf? If I am spared, I should like to see that. When all else has been smashed, there is always the sea.’
He craned his head to see the wheelhouse clock. ‘I am going to work on my charts, Heuss. Double the lookouts, and alter course away from any other vessel. Anything! Do you understand?’
As he moved into the wheelhouse, Heuss swallowed his pride and said quietly: ‘And I apologise, sir! I ask your pardon.’ He waited, half expecting von Steiger to prolong his agony.
But he laughed sadly instead. ‘You have come a long way. Heuss. Make the most of it!’
* * * * *
‘Captain, sir?’ The gentle but insistent grip on his shoulder brought him instantly awake, although his brain still hung reluctantly to the uneasy refuge of sleep. His joints seemed to crack as he levered himself upright in his tall chair, and his body felt chilled and bruised. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles he glanced quickly at the bridge clock and then at Reeder’s puffy face and the steaming mug of coffee.
Heuss looked lined and grey in the faint dawn light, and his drill tunic was creased and grubby from the long, searching vigilance. ‘Dawn coming up now. Captain,’ he reported, as von Steiger glanced towards him.
There was a long silvery light, an endless stroke of brushwork along the eastern horizon, which grew even as they waited. Brazil and the unimportant anchorage of Corata had already been swallowed up in the distance, washed away in the creaming straight line of the Vulkan’s wake. The ship vibrated from stem to stern, and the bridge seemed to be alive with loose fittings and protesting rivets as the thrashing screw pushed the raider along at her maximum speed. Once clear of the hostile coast, the straining engine-room staff had gradually worked up the revolutions until the sharp stem threw back the bow-wave in two great unbroken wings of crested water. The light hardened and strengthened, and a dozen telescopes and binoculars scanned the deep-hued sea and the darkness which the night was still unwilling to vacate.
Von Steiger sipped the scalding coffee and waited. His eyes strayed occasionally to the brass telephone nearby, and he tried to imagine the masthead lookout peering with sick apprehension from his lonely eyrie.
There was no warmth in the air as yet, and the decks and rigging gleamed dully with dew, while from forward the guns’ crews could be heard removing the canvas from the long muzzles.
He reached for his leather case, and then dropped his hand on his lap. His mouth felt bitter and sour, and he knew that a cheroot would bring him no comfort.
As the grey-and silver light spread slowly down from the horizon, they saw, too, the golden tinge in the colourless sky, and imagined the warmth which would soon follow.
On the forward deck a small party of men were connecting up the salt-water hoses, and a petty officer unlocked the cabinet which contained the scrubbers and buckets for the first task of the day. There was a smell of coffee and bacon coming out of the spindly galley funnel, and only the extra tension on the crowded bridge marked this dawn as different from any other.
He slid from the chair and massaged his forearms, conscious of the tingling irritation in his wound. The dressing could come off today, he decided, the air and sun would do more good than that.
He moved towards the door, and froze in his tracks as the telephone buzzed with jarring insistence. He forced himself to keep still as Heuss snatched it from its hook. They had been expecting it to call, and yet the shock now seemed all the greater.
‘Ship, Captain! On the port quarter.
He moved quickly to the wet and glistening port wing and swung his powerful Zeiss glasses astern towards the glittering sea. There was a thick haze already, but the man at the masthead would have better vision from his height above the deck. He rested the glasses against the canvas shield which draped across the searchlight and began a systematic search of the open sea. He was peering directly into the path which the sun would follow, and the glare rebounded harshly into his eyes. He held his breath. He waited a moment longer, being well used to the tricks which dawn at sea could play with a man’s eyes. It was no illusion. A tall, unmoving cloud of smoke, fine and clean against the brightening sky. No ship as yet, just that white cloud. He lowered his glasses and wiped the lenses with great care, his mind busy and excluding the sharp lookout reports behind him and the sudden clatter of feet on the bridge ladder.
He glared towards the masthead lookout, and resisted the temptation to call for another report. The man was probably in great difficulties without putting him into a panic. He would be peering almost dead astern, and, with no wind to clear the heavy vapour from the Vulkan’s tall funnel, he had trouble enough. He made up his mind, and, slinging the glasses round his neck, he began to climb the narrow ladder to the top of the wheelhouse.
Lieutenant Ebert sat behind his camouflaged range-finder, a pair of headphones clamped across his ears. His three ratings were already crouched by their hand-sets and voice-pipes and were conversing in low tones to the hidden gunners.
There was an additional compass on its tall wooden stand at the rear of the tiny deck, and von Steiger climbed up on to the scrubbed steps from which the officer-of-the-watch could take bearings and fixes under happier circumstances. Apart from the masthead man, he was now higher than any other person aboard. He was slightly below the lip of the funnel, and found that when he raised his glasses his vision was clear and unimpeded.
The white cloud was still there, motionless.
The sea had already changed colour and had allowed the early sunlight to flow down into the deep troughs and glittering gullies. It was a fine, unspoiled blue, broken only occasionally by a brief whitecap and the aimless crowd of gulls which still spiralled hopefully above the ship’s taffrail.
He stood for several long minutes, his eyes sore from strain, yet unwilling to shut out the picture of that pale cloud.
He was about to step down from his uncomfortable perch, even if only to wipe his eyes, when the Vulkan ploughed into yet another of the long swelling rollers which moved easily across the empty sea in quiet, dignified columns. By a chance freak a similar roller, probably one which had long before lifted the raider’s keel, passed beneath the other vessel. Imperceptibly, the horizon’s sharp edge was broken by a faint but definite black triangle. Then it was gone again, and only the mocking smoke remained to stain the bright sky.
He stepped slowly from the compass platform, his mind making rapid calculations. That had been a tripod mast, it was useless to think otherwise. No other superstructure was visible as yet, which indicated that the warship was pointing straight towards him. He stared through Ebert’s questioning face and past the swinging tube of the range-finder. Allowing for the haze and the height of the other vessel, we must be about eighteen miles apart. He frowned as the pounding vibration of the engine intruded on his thoughts. She was already going at full speed, and he doubted if they could give him even another knot, no matter what the emergency. He climbed rapidly down the ladder, his thoughts dropping into place as he moved.
‘It’s the cruiser, no doubt about it!’ He saw the hope fade in their eyes. ‘Allowing a mile, more or less, she is about eighteen miles clear, but we will check with the range-finder as soon as the haze breaks.’ He smiled as if at some secret joke, and continued: ‘H.M.S. Waltham is a fairly new ship. She has twelve six-inch guns and the same number of smaller weapons.’ He walked to the vibrating chart-table, aware that so far none of his officers had voiced a reply. ‘The Waltham’s speed is the problem. It is listed at twenty-one knots, but I imagine she will go much faster if the hounds pick up the scent!’
He pushed the brass ruler across the chart and steadied the pencil against the quivering paper. ‘Alter course, Heuss. Steer south seventy-five east.’ He walked to his chair and stared at it with dislike. ‘Dehler, pipe all hands aft. I want the whole ship’s company, gunners as well, under the poop. Their extra weight will lift the bows a little and add to our speed.’ He saw the man’s face blanch as the telephone buzzed once again.
‘Masthead reports the warship, sir. Dead astern now. Range about seventeen miles.’
Von Steiger smiled. ‘He’s guessing!’ He saw Heuss’s taut features relax into a grin, and added, ‘If it had not been for Pieck, I fear we would already be hard-pressed!’
Heuss peered astern at the unmoving white cloud. It was so sinister, so permanent, that he found himself standing on tiptoe as if to see the invisible ship. The cruiser’s guns, he knew, had an effective range of about eight miles. But a fluke shot at an even greater range could be just as disastrous. He remembered the great screaming salvoes of shells which had plummeted down from the sky at Jutland. But there at least they had had armoured decks. The Vulkan, apart from a few extra sheets of hardened steel about her superstructure and sandbags jammed around the sheltered gun-mountings to protect the gunners from flying splinters, was much the same as the day she was launched. He bit his lip. The guns, too, were mainly mounted in the forepart of the ship. It had been assumed that she would be chasing, not being chased. The twenty-two pounder on the poop was as much use against an armoured cruiser as a hatpin against a charging elephant.
He listened to von Steiger rapping out his orders in that sharp, clear voice which had become the centre of their little world.
‘Pass the word to the galley to take the men’s breakfast aft to the poop. And tell Petty Officer Weiss to get his concertina. I have heard him play quite well, and it will take their minds off our new companion if they can sing a few of their bawdy songs!’
Damrosch said uncertainly: ‘What will the enemy do, sir? Have they seen us yet?’
‘It is better to assume that they have seen us. They might be following us by accident, but I doubt it. I expect they are checking all craft in this area and want to have a talk with us. When they discover that they are not overhauling us, they will begin to get suspicious.’
‘Perhaps they have guessed already.’ Damrosch tried not to look astern.
Von Stelger shook his head. ‘It is too quiet. No frantic wireless messages, nothing. If I know the Royal Navy, the Waltham’s captain will have sent his men to breakfast first. “The strange ship can wait until after that!” It is a good rule, too. A man can always fight better on a full belly!’
He shaded his eyes against the shimmering glare on the water. To himself he added: A full day of empty water and clear sky. If I can keep clear of those guns until dusk I have a chance. If not . . . He shut his mind to the other choice, and called to Reeder, ‘My breakfast, if you please!’ He walked towards the sea cabin, keeping his movements slow, even casual. ‘I shall have my food now, Heuss. As the British respect their own appetites, they can at least do the same for me!’ He saw Heuss relax and Damrosch’s stiff face break into a shaky smile.
But when the door was closed behind him and Reeder had gone, he could not even bear to look at the breakfast on the silver tray. He was so conscious of the threat which followed his ship, and, once alone, he could think of nothing else. He felt, too, a sense of failure and a helplessness which his victims must already have known and understood.
He rested both hands on the edge of the table and closed his eyes so tightly that little lights jumped within the darkness. The strain of always having to be right is killing me as surely as any shell. Every command I give must leave no room for uncertainty, and any decision could be final. He opened his eyes and stared emptily at the trembling table. Final, indeed, he thought.
* * * * *
For two nerve-stretching hours the Vulkan continued along her set course, the hull and superstructure shaking so violently that several plates began to work and strain in the lower part of the vessel, and above the thunder of the engine could be heard the monotonous clank of the power-operated bilge-pumps as the engineers dragged themselves from one warning leak to another.
Von Steiger had resumed his place on the port wing of the bridge, his glasses resting on his forearms as he steadied them on the screen. Dehler joined him in the hot sunlight, his face haunted. ‘We must slow her down, sir! She’s shaking herself to pieces!’
Von Steiger watched the telltale smudge of smoke on the horizon. ‘Alter course and steer due east, Dehler. If the cruiser hauls off I shall order a reduction of speed. If not,’ he shrugged wearily, ‘the slow destruction of this ship will have to continue.’ His voice suddenly heated, he added, ‘Damn all those fools who sit in their offices and make such decisions and issue the orders which will send a ship like this to war!’
Dehler did not answer, but he heard him pass the order and felt the firm but gentle pressure of the screen against his chest as the charging ship responded to the alteration of course.
Minutes dragged by, and every glass was trained on the faraway wisp of vapour. The angle of sight increased with agonising slowness, until the smoke-trail seemed to merge with the shimmering edge of the horizon itself. An hour passed, and the miles grew between the two vessels, and it took great skill to find the warship’s position, once you had lowered your glass for a second.
Von Steiger stared doubtfully at the empty sea. It was small comfort to lose the cruiser, but it would have to suffice. The least sign or suspicion could bring her dashing back at a speed which could overwhelm the Vulkan’s with ten knots to spare.
Ebert left his range-finder and joined the others on the bridge. In a voice clearly audible to the lonely figure on the port wing he exclaimed: ‘He’s done it again! Lost that cruiser when the Tommies could have had us by the tails!’
Damrosch said! ‘What was the matter with the British? Why did they let us get away?’
‘Who knows; They probably sighted another ship and wanted to investigate. After all, there is nothing more harmless than a ship apparently steaming from a “safe” country!’ They were still laughing when the telephone buzzed and cut the humour dead in the air.
Heuss said: ‘Masthead reports two ships, fine on the starboard bow, Captain! Two freighters, well down in the water and on a converging course!’
Von Steiger frowned. ‘Why did he not report them earlier? If we had ten masthead lookouts I suppose they would all be gazing after that cruiser!’
Ebert said ruefully: ‘What rotten luck! Two fat freighters and we can’t touch them! That beats everything!’
Von Steiger perched himself on his chair and wound down the big window in front of him. ‘Clear for action, Lieutenant Ebert! We will engage both ships together!’
The words dropped like boulders in a quiet valley. Dehler could not check his disbelief. ‘You can’t mean that, sir?’ His eyes were popping from his head. ‘You have not forgotten there is an armoured cruiser just beyond the horizon?’
Heuss said nothing, but watched the Captain’s set face, seeing the fleeting shadow of surrender in his gold eyes.
Von Steiger twisted suddenly in his chair. ‘Do you imagine that I shall let them escape? If we are sunk immediately after these ships, at least we shall have something to justify our existence! Now, do as I say!’
Dehler sweated visibly but stood his ground. His heavy face was fearful but determined. ‘But what about the men, sir? If they knew what you were doing they would turn on you!’
Von Steiger sighed and stared past Dehler’s head towards the twin columns of greasy black smoke which lifted lazily over the skyline.
‘At any other time such consideration for the crew’s welfare would be highly commendable, Dehler. But what you are saying now is akin to mutiny. Do you understand that?’
Heuss stepped forward. ‘I agree with the Captain!’ He met Dehler’s glowering face calmly. ‘We have been deluding ourselves, I can see that now. We have to sink these ships, Dehler. If we start running away we are done for.’
They jumped as von Steiger dragged a match noisily across a box and lighted a cheroot. He had apparently dismissed them all and was patiently waiting for results.
Dehler turned towards the bridge ladder, his eyes downcast, even ashamed. ‘I hope I know the meaning of duty, Captain! I think I have done my share!’ Then he was gone.
Heuss wiped his brow with a soiled handkerchief and spread his hands to Ebert. ‘These chaps are so jumpy! I don’t like to say it, but anyone who comes from the lower deck, no matter which service, will never make a good officer.’
Ebert pulled down the peak of his cap and placed a foot on the bottom rung of his ladder. He stared intently at Heuss. ‘I hope you are wrong, Max. I came from the lower deck, and, as a matter of fact, I am rather proud of it!’
Heuss walked to the centre of the wheelhouse, his face resigned. He stared at von Steiger’s firm shoulders, and in spite of his feeling of humiliation, grinned at himself. I shall never learn, he thought. I have been so wrapped up in myself that I have never considered making a decision which might put me in one category as against another. Now I have offended Karl, the one man who has tolerated my moods and bad temper for so long. He sighed, and lifted his glasses towards the approaching black shapes.
Von Steiger said calmly: ‘You acted wisely then, Heuss. Another second and Dehler might have said something stupid, which I could not have overlooked. Perhaps you should have been a politician?’
Heuss watched him carefully. How does he do it? He looks so controlled and unimpressed, and yet I know he is wound as tightly as a gun-spring. I hate him for his arrogance, his godlike superiority and his utter ruthlessness. Yet I would do anything for him because of his humanity and complete integrity.
‘Would you have ordered an attack on these ships, Heuss?’ The sudden question startled him, and he tried to gauge the Captain’s real motives for asking.
‘I think it is important, sir,’ he answered slowly, his eyes fixed now on the black smoke and small dark shapes on the glittering water. ‘A combined effort is important in this war, but I think perhaps that the individual acts are the more telling in the end. We are like a branch of a great tree, or even like one of its twigs. Small but important to the whole. And all over the world ships and individuals, even men like Fleiuss, are doing what they think best for their country.’
Von Steiger turned and smiled at Heuss’s serious face. ‘Very well put. Unfortunately, if someone cuts down your tree at its roots, the twigs are not much use!’
A voice distorted by a mouthpiece said, ‘Range ten thousand yards!’ And another, ‘Both ships appear to be British!’
Von Steiger’s smile faded. ‘It will have to be quick! In fifteen minutes signal them to heave to and abandon ship! Give them another three minutes, and then open fire!’
* * * * *
The two travel-stained freighters steamed in line ahead about half a mile apart. Both were well down in the placid water, and as the Vulkan bore down on them the watching officers could see the clean white crates stacked on their crowded decks and the tattered British ensigns which hung limp and unmoving from their gaffs.
A cluster of signal flags soared upwards to the raider’s yards, and simultaneously the big, crisp German ensign flapped out over the bared guns. ‘Stop immediately! Abandon ship! This is a German cruiser!’ Signal-lamps clattered on either side of the bridge to finalise the fate of the two unprepared merchantmen.
Von Steiger watched the bow-waves die away on the two freighters, and saw the decks suddenly blossom with scurrying figures. A lifeboat moved jerkily in its davits and began to slither down the nearest ship’s rusty side. Then another, and on the other ship he could see the crew following suit. He reached for his megaphone and strode out on to the sun-bathed starboard wing as the raider moved in a cautious semicircle round the bobbing lifeboats. The two freighters already looked abandoned and wretched in their stillness.
The Vulkan stopped her engine and glided towards the nearest boats, her great black shadow falling across the upturned faces and motionless oars. ‘Where is your captain?’ His voice was metallic and eerily distorted on the gently heaving water.
A man in a white shirt stood up in the nearest boat, shading his eyes with his hand. He did not answer, but merely stared at the high bridge and the officer with the megaphone.
‘I am taking you aboard, Captain! I will give you your position, and the boats can make for the Brazilian coast! It is safe enough for them!’ The man still stood silently swaying in the boat, and von Steiger called sharply, ‘What is your ship?’
The voice was husky but strong enough to show its anger. ‘S.S. Pitcairn, outward bound from Pernambuco!’
A rope ladder was thrown down the raider’s side, and the boat idled nearer. Heuss, standing close by von Steiger’s side, saw the upturned, sun-reddened faces, the hastily seized possessions and the mixed expressions of hatred and anxiety. One man in the bow of the boat held a small black-and-white cat cradled in his brawny arms. The English captain seized the swaying ladder and stepped from the boat. He turned and smiled at his silent men, and one of them gave him a thumbs-up sign.
The Vulkan moved slowly forward towards the other group of boats. The second ship was the seven-thousand-ton Dover Light, also from Pernambuco and bound for England. Her captain shook his fist at von Steiger and seemed about to refuse to leave his boat. A seaman poked his rifle over the raider’s rail and gestured with nervous impatience.
The master, an elderly, grey-haired man in an old tweed coat, glared at the rifle and the line of heads along the rail. His voice cracked as he yelled hoarsely at the watching ship: ‘Don’t shoot! Let my men go, you bloody murderer! I thought women and children were more in your line!’
He grasped the ladder and began to climb. Heuss threw down a small canvas bag containing the course and position for the stranded seamen, and turned to watch von Steiger’s chilled face.
‘Did you hear that, Heuss? Do you hear what they are calling me?’
The two captains were brought to the bridge and stood in silence as von Steiger finished rapping out a string of orders.
He turned and faced them, his eyes hard ‘I have to sink your ships! It is war. I do not like to destroy any ship, but it is my duty!’
The captain of the Dover Light moved as if to step forward, but a levelled bayonet dropped across his chest. The man stared at von Steiger’s outstretched hand and sucked in his breath in astonishment.
‘I’ll not shake your hand, Captain!’ His chest was heaving in a mixture of fury and misery. ‘I would feel unclean for the rest of my life! I’ve heard about you! I’ve read of your sort of duty! Wounded men in a hospital ship, unprotected merchantmen and the rest! Why not shoot us too, you bloody butcher!’
Heuss tore his eyes from von Steiger’s stony face. ‘Silence! You are speaking lies! The Captain has never . . .’
‘That will do, Heuss!’ The voice was tired. ‘Take them below!’
Heuss’s outburst was finished and overthrown by the sudden shattering roar of the forward guns opening fire. The first shells exploded on the waterlines of the wallowing ships, and the second salvo settled their fate. Together on passage, the two ships slowly sank in company, their deck cargoes breaking free and crashing across the listing decks and smoking superstructure.
Heuss turned angrily to the two English captains. ‘Take these men below!’ How different, he thought, from the sad dignity of the first prisoner, the old captain from the Cardiff Maid. He swallowed hard and turned back to von Steiger. ‘All lies, sir! How can the people who write such things believe them?’
Von Steiger watched the two ships canting on to their sides and imagined that he could hear the roar of inrushing water. Already the lifeboats had drawn together and were hoisting small triangles of buff sails. ‘They don’t believe them, Heuss. But the people who read such things will swallow every word. Just as they do at home in Germany!’
The screw lashed at the blue water, and with mounting revolutions the raider increased speed away from the widening path of flotsam and gently exploding air-bubbles.
Damrosch crossed the bridge. ‘No sign of the cruiser, Captain!’
‘Good’ He sounded disinterested. ‘Fall out Action Stations and secure the guns. But keep all lookouts on their toes. I have a feeling there is more trouble yet.’
Heuss waited until von Steiger had moved clear. ‘My God, Max, I have never seen him so shaken! That Englishman really cut him with his words!’
‘I suppose that is how the enemy sees us.’ Damrosch looked back at the tiny, shimmering lifeboats.
Heuss snorted. ‘We could have left them like that U-boat did! But we did not, we treated them fairly and humanely! It sickens me to hear such rubbish! If we ruled the seas, as the British have done for centuries, would they stay quietly in Portsmouth or Scapa Flow?’ He laughed bitterly. ‘By God, they would be worse than we are!’ He stared at Damrosch’s brooding face. ‘The Captain has more control of himself than I have. I could have beaten that man into the deck for what he said.’
Damrosch shook his head. ‘I just can’t get used to all this. Two ships sailing quietly, and then nothing!’ He peered at Heuss’s angry face as if to find an explanation. ‘Nothing at all, Emil. It’s so final!’
Heus shrugged. ‘That’s it, Max. We are against the whole damn’ world!’ He laughed suddenly and freely, so that a lookout momentarily lowered his glasses and listened.
‘They used to tell us at the beginning of the war that we should conquer the world. What a laugh, eh? Now, we’ve got the whole world to conquer!’
* * * * *
The sun was high above the mainmast and its power defied the puny efforts of the fans to stir the lifeless air between decks. Speed had at last been reduced, but the ship still thrust forward at a steady thirteen knots, the vibration adding to the discomfort of the men off watch, who lolled half naked about the decks and avoided the searing heat of the metal plates and the vicinity of the funnel casing, which seemed to glow from the straining efforts of the engine-room beneath.
Dehler and Heuss sat in the two chairs in von Steiger’s sea cabin, watching their captain as he moved restlessly back and forth near the open scuttle.
Heuss could feel his eyelids drooping with strain and weariness, and tried to concentrate on what von Steiger was saying. It seemed incredible that it was only a few hours since they had despatched the two freighters, and only twenty-four hours since his rescue from Gelb and the two British seamen. He wondered how Caryl Brett was faring in the isolation of Von Steiger’s quarters, and whether her seemingly inexhaustible resistance against her hardship and shock had at last given out. He had wanted to go and see her, but the night escape from Corata, the nerve-racking race with the cruiser and the short, ruthless destruction of the two ships had left him no time at all. He could not remember when he had last been able to sleep, and now von Steiger had summoned him to another conference.
He looked at the Captain and wondered. He was still brisk and apparently fresh, but had changed in some way. He frowned and tried to decide what had happened. He looked wild-eye, even reckless, which seemed somehow out of character. Did he really care so much about what the captured Englishman had said? Why, when he had brought them so far with unerring skill and cool judgement, had he allowed some clumsy insult to affect him?
Delher drummed his fingers slowly on his knees, his small eyes frowning with concentration. He tried to listen to von Steiger’s quiet voice and digest the information about coal consumption, food and fresh water, but all the time he could feel the rising edge of panic inside him, which made his body cold in spite of the sunlight which filled the small cabin. He kept seeing that implacable white smoke-cloud, and imagined the long, slender muzzles of the cruiser’s guns as they lifted to maximum elevation before discharging a salvo at the vulnerable and slow-moving Vulkan. Twelve six-inch guns she had. Twelve great, armour piercing shells in a single salvo! He felt the sweat gathering like ice-rime along the edge of his stiff collar.
Von Steiger moved to the chart and stared down at it. ‘We will maintain this course and speed, and then tomorrow we will alter course to the south. If Fleiuss’s information is reliable we will find no more warships in this vicinity, so, provided the Waltham maintains her present patrol, we shall get clear away into the South Atlantic once more. In four days there is a possible rendezvous with the collier, as you know, so we must be in position on time.’ He tapped the chart thoughtfully. ‘That will be here, two hundred miles east of Pernambuco. Well clear of the trade routes, and yet near enough to our last victims’ port of departure to allay suspicion.’
Dehler licked his lips. Shall we take all the coal from the collier?’
‘I hope so. Our stocks are getting low, and I feel that the pace is getting warmer. If possible, I should like to send the collier off again when we have milked her dry and let her do a dummy attack on a few ships herself.’ He saw the uncertainty in their eyes. ‘Just to show the flag, I mean, and then sheer away on an opposite course to us. The ships she disturbs will be bound to call for assistance, and then we will have a better chance of closing with a worthwhile prize somewhere else!’
Heuss eyed him quietly. ‘And the men in the collier, sir. What will happen to them?’
‘They will be taken prisoner, I am afraid. But by the time that happens we will be striking a harder blow elsewhere!’
‘It seems a bit hard on them. To get so far and then be put out as bait for the British.’
‘Rubbish! There are plenty of men aboard who would welcome the chance of reasonable comfort and safety behind barbed wire for the rest of the war!’ His eye passed quickly across Dehler’s strained face. ‘We will find no shortage of volunteers. I think. Just enough to watch over the prisoners and work the ship.’ Half to himself he added: ‘Call me a pirate, do they? I’ll make them wish they’d never thought of such a word!’
Heuss said slowly, ‘When shall we turn for home, sir?’
‘Home? I cannot answer that yet, Heuss. There is so much to do. We must keep going while we can and while the ship is in good running order. If the ship fails we all fail, for, as you have seen, we have no friends any more.’
Heuss thought of his conversation with Damrosch. ‘Why is that? We were feared and respected by so many before; now Germany is alone.’
Von Steiger smiled sadly. ‘The Chinese have an interesting answer to that. “An empty hand is not licked!” I fear that we have nothing left to give anyone.’
Dehler spoke at last. ‘The cruiser, sir. How long will it be before it comes after us again?’ He did not seem to have been listening, and von Steiger shrugged with sudden impatience.
‘Those lifeboats will reach the Brazilian coast tomorrow perhaps, or the next day. They might even be sighted by a coaster before that. When that happens the hunt will be speeded up, but by that time we can be several hundred miles away.’
Heuss smiled grimly. ‘It is quite a thought, really. We see so little and yet it requires no imagination to visualise the havoc we have caused to the enemy. Ships sunk here and there, convoys re-routed, sailings cancelled and no doubt warship reinforcements moved south when they can be ill spared at present. I expect every solitary ship that moves has been reported as a raider! The British must be thirsting for our blood!’
Von Steiger stared into the sunlight. ‘I shall try to postpone that privilege for them!’
Dehler stood up, his face working like a fractious child’s. ‘It’s not fair!’ He ignored Heuss’s warning glance and the frozen stare which von Steiger turned on him. He could feel the cabin walls closing in on him, and tore at his tunic collar as if suffocating. ‘It was not meant to be like this! How much more strain can we take?’ He peered blindly around him. ‘We don’t get a second’s rest, and every day brings some new danger!’
‘Control yourself, man!’ The Captain’s voice was sharp.
‘Wildermuth is in the collier, Kohler is confined to his quarters and the rest of us are having to work twice as hard! It’s not fair, I say!’ He sat down suddenly, as if his legs had collapsed.
‘Are you afraid, Dehler?’ Von Steiger’s tone was even. ‘Is that what you want me to believe?’
Dehler looked at his knotted fingers and nodded dumbly. ‘I didn’t bargain for all this, sir. I’ve always had a rotten life, and I thought this would be a chance to make some good out of the years I’m wasting in this damned war!’ He looked up and glared at his captain. ‘I can’t go on, sir! I’m beaten, finished!’ He dropped his head, and his fat shoulders shook convulsively.
Heuss held his breath and waited for von Steiger to explode. Instead, he said quietly: ‘Go to your cabin, Dehler. Lieutenant Heuss will take over your duties as First Lieutenant completely, and you must make a final effort to control yourself. We all have our fears, one way or another. Pieck was afraid to ask his own officers for help, and that was as great a fear as yours. You are afraid of death, Dehler, and yet that is the only thing we can be sure of.’ He watched Dehler’s blank face and saw him suddenly as a tired, frightened old man. ‘Go below, Dehler. You are on the First Watch, I think?’ He added gently: ‘You have served the Vulkan before any of us. It would be a pity for you to fail her now.’
Dehler moved to the door, his face crumpled. ‘Yes, sir! That’s true enough!’ He wiped his eyes vaguely with his sleeve. ‘She was a good ship, too, even for a poor mate!’ He was still mumbling to himself as the door closed.
Heuss watched von Steiger and breathed out slowly. ‘You were very kind to him, sir.’
‘Maybe. I think perhaps I have done him more harm than good, but we shall see. Now, attend to your duties, Heuss. Keep the men occupied, and as happy as you can. We shall be crossing the Equator tomorrow, so that will give them something to celebrate.’ His eyes were dreamy as he stared down at the dazzling water. ‘It seems a lifetime since I crossed the line for the first time.’
Heuss picked up his cap and stood up. ‘Are you afraid of anything, sir?’
Von Steiger eyed him soberly. ‘You are impertinent, Heuss, but I like you for it. Since you wish to know. I can tell you that my only fear at present is that of failure.’
He stared hard at Heuss, who was shaken by the intensity of those gold eyes.
‘By God, Heuss! They think I am a butcher, a pirate, eh? Well, we shall see. Dehler thinks I am just driving this ship because I want more glory for myself! Well, perhaps that was once true of me, too. But now I want something much more priceless. If we fail now and allow our name to be slandered and beaten into the mud, it will not only mean ignominy and disgrace for Germany, but for each one of us aboard this ship!’
He waited until the Lieutenant had gone and then rested his head against the warm brass rim of the scuttle. He felt spent, and yet was unwilling to accept the advice he had given to Dehler. There was so much to do. So many preparations which had to be made.
I must see Kohler again, he thought. Any more of his behaviour and I will put him under close arrest, no matter how shorthanded we are. He watched with sudden excitement as Caryl Brett moved along the sheltered side of the boatdeck.
Her hair shone in the sunlight, and the grace of her movements was accentuated rather than spoiled by the shabbiness of her torn skirt and stained blouse. Reeder had told him that the girl had apparently recovered from her rough handling on the hillside, but no longer smiled, and showed no inclination to make use of her freedom to move about the upper deck. He had also told him that the other prisoners had turned their backs on her when she had passed, and the man Gelb had called something after her, which had made her cheeks burn with either anger or humiliation.
Von Steiger watched her thoughtfully. When I took her from the sea I did her more harm than I realised. And by her own humanity she has added to her discomfort and uncertainty. Even her fellow prisoners hate her because of their own fear, and because she alone has retained her personality. They call me a criminal because I do not fight according to their rules.
He strained his neck round the scuttle to watch the slim figure pass out of sight, and then turned back to the cabin.
They lie, he thought with sudden bitterness. The only crime we have committed is that we are on the losing side!
He felt the blood throbbing in his temples and was conscious of the ache in his wound. He sat down heavily and pushed the chart and the vital logbook on to the deck.
Reeder opened the door and peered anxiously at his master. ‘You rang, sir?’
‘Yes. Bring me a bottle of schnapps and a clean glass!’ He smiled at the dismay on Reeder’s colourless face. ‘Quickly, man! The war can wait for a while, but I suddenly find that I cannot!’