"Yes, I know all about the condensers," interrupted von Giespert irritably, and since it was his fault that the work of repairing them had not been undertaken at Batavia—the last port they touched where work of that kind could be performed—his subordinate's reference to the faulty apparatus was unwelcome.
"I would suggest," continued Strauss, finding boldness in the fact that he, too, was experiencing inconvenience from the shortage of drinking-water, "that four of the hands take the whaler and run across to the island where we lay when the English vessel discovered us. There is water in abundance. We could get three small tanks into the boat, and the men could fill them by means of barricoes."
"Very well," agreed von Giespert. "Pick four men who can best be spared. How is the glass?"
"Steady, Herr Kapitan."
"I suppose there is a possibility of the numskulls missing the island entirely? If so, we shall lose a valuable boat."
"I can give them the compass course. It is usually a favourable wind both ways," said Strauss reassuringly. "All being well, they ought to be back in a couple of days."
"Send them," rejoined von Giespert curtly; then in an undertone he added: "It was a happy thought when I laid in that stock of Pilsener at Batavia, Herr Strauss. Shall we split a bottle now?"
At daybreak the whaler set off on its voyage to Nua Leha. Barely were the boat's sails out of sight when one of the Huns who had been employed ashore came off with the news that he had discovered an ample supply of water.
Von Giespert showed no signs of thankfulness at the intelligence. Instead, he cursed the man for not finding the spring earlier, and upbraided Strauss for sending away the whaler on an unnecessary errand.
For the greater part of the day the sweeping-operations were resumed, the men working sullenly and taking advantage of every opportunity to skulk. About three in the afternoon one of the grapnels fouled something, and a diver descended to examine and report upon the nature of the obstruction.