Von Giespert's Resolve
Kapitan Karl von Giespert, ex-Unter-Leutnant of the now defunct
Imperial German Navy, was in a very bad temper, which was saying a
good deal, since he was rarely in a good one.
He was beginning to realize that his latest bit of dirty work--one of
many pet schemes--had been a wash-out. The boat containing Strauss
and three of the crew had not returned. He didn't mind losing the men
overmuch, but he regretted his decision to send Siegfried Strauss in
command of the submarine mining expedition; not that he had any
affection for Strauss, but because Strauss was a capable navigator
and he was not. And it was a long, long voyage back to the
Fatherland.
After taking several turns up and down the deck, von Giespert went
for'ard, descended the steep ladder to the fo'c'sle, and thence to
the store-room, where for quite a considerable time he stood
pensively contemplating the for'ard water-tight bulkhead of No. 1
hold.
Then he bawled to one of the men to pass the word for the carpenter.
That individual arrived at the double, rather breathless and
perspiring freely not solely on account of the heat, but in
anticipation of a scene with his employer.
"I want you," ordered von Giespert, "to shore up this bulkhead from
the other side. Use every available baulk of timber. If you want
more, send a party ashore to fell some trees. I want the job done
quickly and properly."
Had von Giespert told the carpenter to construct a ladder long enough
to reach the moon, or given him similar impossible instructions, the
latter's surprise would hardly have been greater. The bulkhead of No.
1 hold was of massive construction, and its condition was as good as
the day when the ship was launched.
"It will take a day and a half, Herr Kapitan," replied the carpenter,
in reply to his employer's question as to the length of the task
involved.
"Then have it done," snapped von Giespert, and hied him to interview
the chief engineer in his cabin.
"I want steam raised the day after to-morrow," he said. "We're
sailing at noon. What's the working-pressure of the boilers?"
The engineer told him.
"No more?" asked von Giespert.
"I might raise another two atmospheres, Herr Kapitan," replied the
chief dubiously. "The boilers wouldn't stand that for long."
"They'll have to stand it for an hour," declared von Giespert. "An
hour will be enough for my purpose. I will give you ample warning
when I require the additional pressure."
His latest project was to sail for Nua Leha, arriving at dawn. If, as
he expected, the _Zug_ were sighted by the look-out of the _Titania_,
he would hoist urgent signals--the international NV, signifying
"short of provisions". He would then make out that the _Zug_ intended
to anchor within a cable's length of her rival, and, suddenly
increasing speed and putting her helm hard-a-port, ram the _Titania_
full on her beam. And, since he still required the _Zug_ to get him
home, the reason for the shoring up of the for'ard watertight
bulkhead was apparent. But at all costs there must be no survivors
from the _Titania_.
It was a desperate scheme that gave fair promises of success. The one
fly in the ointment was the knowledge that the _Titania_ mounted a
4.7-inch quickfirer. Von Giespert did not, of course, know that the
"quick-firer" was at that moment performing its ordained task of
carrying off the smoke of the galley-fire in its humble, yet
important, capacity of a chimney.
As a counter-measure, if the _Titania's_ gun should be manned and
trained, von Giespert could hoist a "not under control" signal and
trust that the excuse would pass, but he was beginning to have a
wholesome respect for Harborough. Not once but many times that fool
of an Englishman had got to windward of him. It behoved him to act
warily.
Von Giespert was a firm believer in the German equivalent for the
proverb "Desperate diseases need desperate remedies". To him the
_Titania_ and her crew represented the disease; the _Zug_ was to
apply the remedy. At the same time he realized that it was the last
straw, the final desperate plunge of the despairing gamester, staking
his all upon the cast of the die.
For the greater part of the day the carpenter and his crew toiled in
the burning rays of the sun, hauling and setting in position huge
baulks of timber, supplemented by lengths of stout bamboo, felled and
towed alongside and thence whipped up and placed in the for'ard hold
by means of the vessel's derricks. Before sunset the carpenter
reported complete, but von Giespert was not satisfied.
He ordered the men to fill sacks with sand and pile them up against
the timber shores. He meant to make certain of that bulkhead. The
_Zug's_ bows might be torn like paper in the projected ramming
evolution, but the bulkhead must hold at all costs.
The crew obeyed reluctantly. They were of a type that could be driven
and did not take kindly to being led; but in the matter of being
driven there could be "too much of a good thing ". And von Giespert
failed to realize the presence of the danger-signal.
Headed by one of the quartermasters, the deck hands came aft in a
body and demanded of the now astounded but still mule-headed von
Giespert the reason for this excessive amount of work. They could not
see why the bulkhead should be strengthened, considering it was
strong enough already, unless some desperate scheme were afloat.
Von Giespert told them. He had to admit failure in the quest of the
gold and that his British rivals had both hoodwinked him and secured
the real prize.
"That is all very well, Herr Kapitan," observed the spokesman of the
deputation. "We don't mind taking desperate measures if there's
anything to be got out of it. If we sink the English yacht, how do we
stand as far as the gold is concerned? And suppose we fail, how do we
stand then? It will mean penal servitude in an English prison."
"Not at all," protested von Giespert. "If we fail, the responsibility
is mine. You are acting under my orders. If we succeed in sinking the
yacht, as I believe we shall, then it's merely a question of diving
and recovering the gold. We would know its position to a certainty
this time."
He stopped to make a rapid calculation.
"How do we stand in, Herr Kapitan?" asked one of the men.
Von Giespert, who was on the point of offering twenty per cent of the
proceeds, came down to ten. Inwardly he vowed that these swinish
fellows of his would pay for their temerity in trying to beard him in
his den.
"Very well, Herr Kapitan," agreed the spokesman. "One tenth of the
proceeds in addition to our wages, and you'll please to sign a paper
absolving us from all blame in the matter of the collision."
Muttering angry oaths, von Giespert drew up and signed a document to
that effect and handed it to the leader of the deputation. The men
withdrew, and for the present at least the trouble had blown itself
out.
At eleven on the following morning smoke began to issue from the
_Zug's_ funnel. Half an hour later steam was raised, and by noon the
safety-valves were lifting under the internal pressure. The chief
engineer reported that all was ready; but no answering clang of the
bridge-telegraph was transmitted to the engine-room.
Von Giespert, on the bridge, was hesitating.
"What is the glass doing?" he inquired.
"It has risen a point since six this morning, Herr Kapitan," reported
the quartermaster.
Von Giespert shrugged his shoulders. He had not even the excuse of
approaching bad weather to delay him.
With feelings akin to those of a man about to plunge into icy-cold
water he leant over the bridge stanchion-rail. The bos'un in the
fo'c'sle had already shortened cable and was awaiting the command to
weigh.
The kapitan nodded. At the signal the steam capstan began to clink.
"Up and down, sir," announced one of the men, and a few moments later
the rusty stockless anchor came into view.
"Easy ahead."
The _Zug_ began to forge through the placid water, increasing speed
as she passed through the gap in the reef.
Von Giespert turned to the quartermaster.
"Ost zu sud," he ordered.
That course, east by south, was the course for Nua Leha.