"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.