CHAPTER XXX
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.