'Oh, all right then.' That was all I heard, for I quickly bolted the door and made all ready for the reception while the pair were coming along the cabin passage. Knocking, first circumspectly, then harder and harder, they tried to rouse the captain of the Aud. Leaning my head back somewhat, I answered a couple of times with a half audible curse. Then there was silence for a while. All I could hear now was whispering voices; and then the knocking began again. This was more than I could stand. I pulled off my vest and tie, put my hair in suitable disarray, and went cursing loudly to the door. In accordance with our plan I spoke Low German, on the assumption that the Englishman would probably take it for Norwegian.
'Damnation! What's the meaning of this confounded drumming in the middle of the night?' I shouted in my deepest bass while I opened the door.
'Good-morning, sir! I am very sorry to have to trouble you so early in the morning.' With these words my English 'colleague' greeted me, while at the same time he carefully took a step backwards. In his left hand he held a rusty pistol which might well have dated from the time of Nelson. With his right he touched his grease-stained cap in curt salute. Behind him stood, besides my mate, six English seamen armed to the teeth and clothed in rather fantastic and dirty uniforms. I put on the sternest appearance I could possibly assume, and then addressed him in browbeating tone in English. 'If you wish to speak to me, be good enough to wait until I have dressed.' As I spoke, I slammed the door in his face. All this happened so quickly that the Englishman did not know where he was.
There was quite a long pause before I heard him say to the mate, 'Are all your Norwegian captains such bounders?' And Düsselmann replied, 'All I can tell you is that this one is a regular Tartar.' Then he invited him to take a seat in the mess-room, which the Englishman very willingly did.
I now knew enough to be able to play my rôle in the comedy. The popping of a cork next door told me that Düsselmann had already started the good work. For nearly a quarter of an hour I pounded up and down the room, splashed in the wash-basin, and joyfully anticipated the scene that was now coming. Men of this description could be managed without bloodshed. There was no doubt about that. My sole anxiety was lest these fellows, while they were still sober, should go smelling round the holds. But my men had cleverly understood the situation and had invited the crew of the Shatter to have 'a little drink' in the forecastle, so that for the present there was nothing to fear from them.
I opened wide the whisky locker under my bunk, so that any one sitting on the sofa could easily see the bottles of whisky and brandy standing in serried ranks, and then shouted into the mess that I was ready for the interview. The man with the whisky nose appeared immediately and took the seat I offered him on the sofa. It was only now that I saw to my horror that my uniform jacket, sword-belt, and cutlass were hanging beside the washstand. I promptly threw the towel, which I still held in my hand, over them, and had the satisfaction of noting that the Englishman had spotted nothing. During the conversation which ensued I was at first very surly and curt. When the usual questions, 'Where was I from?' and 'Where was I bound for?' had been disposed of, the Englishman asked me what my object was in anchoring here. I told him my engines had broken down, and that I had been forced to make for Tralee. He then expressed a wish to have a look at the holds. I was not particularly keen on that, but as I dared not let him see that I at once expressed my willingness. So we went on deck and proceeded first of all, needless to say, to No. 2 hold. There I shouted to Düsselmann (who in the meantime had gone back to the bridge after giving me one of his sly winks), to send me a couple of hands to take the hatches off. They came at once; and I had now reached a rather unpleasant stage in the proceedings. The next few seconds must decide if the comedy was going to succeed or if I should have to render the Englishman harmless. Fortunately, no one could see us, for the Shatter had in the meantime made fast to our stern. The doughty warrior had forgotten his old pistol in my cabin, where my servant Bruhns had no doubt already found it. With nervous attention I followed every movement of the Englishman, ready at any moment to knock him down if necessary. As I was a much bigger man than he this would have been easy. I held my Browning pistol ready cocked in my pocket.
When the first hatch was removed I gave a sigh of relief, for I saw that my men had found time to cover up the holds in the lower deck also. So the most important thing was hidden. The few pit-props which we had left between decks the day before were now to prove our salvation. As soon as the Englishman's eye caught sight of the wood strewn all round the sides of the hold he asked what the explanation was. I told him about the terrible storm which we had experienced, and how the whole of our deck-cargo, as well as some of the cargo in the hold, had shifted. Any sailor in his senses would have noticed at once the absurdity of this explanation, for when a ship's cargo shifts the hold presents a much more disorderly appearance than was the case here. The man appeared to be as little of a sailor as he was of a soldier, for he nodded his head and found my explanation quite reasonable. Emboldened by his ignorance I asked him if I should open the lower hold also, 'Not that you will see very much,' I remarked by the way, 'everything is so higgledy-piggledy down there.' At the same time I placed a small ladder for him, and with a gesture invited him to go down. Was he afraid that the ladder would not carry his weight, or did he think the descent would be too unpleasant? Anyway, he waved the ladder aside and said curtly, 'All right.' Then, without another look at the inside of the hold, he related to me how he had weathered this awful storm here in Tralee Bay, what a terrible time he had had, and how, by his clever handling, he had preserved Shatter II. from destruction. So excited did he get over his account that he did not notice that I had shepherded him back to the door of the cabin.
Thank goodness! At any rate I had now got him away from that dangerous No. 1 hold, which, of course, was still wide open. In order to cut the business short I now asked him if he would like to see my papers. As he answered in the affirmative I pushed him into the cabin, and the next moment he was again seated on the sofa with me opposite him. Then I offered him a fat Havana and ordered the steward to bring two cups of coffee.
This, of course, was all by-play, for an Englishman like this would certainly not drink coffee first thing in the morning. So he turned away quite angrily when Bruhns put down a large cup of coffee under his nose. To my joy I noticed that the whisky cupboard had not escaped his attention. He stared and stared between my legs at the locker, so I remarked quite casually, 'Perhaps you would rather have a little whisky?'
That did it. With an energetic 'You're the man for me,' he slapped me on the shoulder, and with characteristic shamelessness started to go to the locker himself and to pick out the best 'White Horse.' I let him go ahead, and in the meantime fetched a big tumbler, so that his ration should not be too small. Then I held out the water-bottle and asked, 'How much?' But the Englishman waved it aside, declaring 'No water! You know we never see this stuff here.' What better could I have wished?