JOANNA AND THE SEA DEVIL (Part 3)


By KATZMAREK(C)


RFS Chasseur didn't depart her pier at Atuona until the
afternoon. Her port engine was causing trouble, a transfer pipe
between the intermediate and low pressure cylinders was leaking
steam badly. In any event, Commandant Krusenbourg decided to
sail using just his starboard plant.


This limited the torpedo boat's speed to 10 or so knots. It
would now take them a good three days for the trip North to Eaio
to uplift the American castaway, Hiram Willens.


To compound matters, the Chasseur's radio had also broken down.
She didn't pick up the latest signal from Papeete.


-----------------------------------------


1600 kilometres to the Northeast, HMS Sussex *did* pick up the
signal. Captain Debenham was now aware that a German raider was
at large somewhere East of the Marquesas. He promptly called a
meeting of his officers.


His problem was that this was a vast area of sea with no
reliable way of knowing where the German was heading. He
suspected that the Sussex would be at sea for some considerable
time. He would need to coal, therefore he resolved to head for
Tahiti before resuming the search.


The British Admiralty ordered the rest of the Cruiser Squadron
to join in the hunt, but they were now heading for the Panama
Canal. It will take several days for them to turn back, coal,
then sail to support the Sussex.


All merchant vessels were alerted and those in port told to
wait and, if possible, sail in convoy providing suitable escorts
could be arranged.


There was nothing for it but to wait and see where the
Seeteufel would strike next.


The exploits of the raiders earlier in the war, the SMS Emden,
SMS Pinguin and the SMS Mowe, for instance, had shown just how
difficult it was to catch a single commerce raider with the
technology at the time. The Emden had been caught quite by
chance, the Pinguin had sunk over thirty ships before returning
home in triumph. The disruption to trade and sea communications
had been tremendous, quite out of proportion to the actual
damage they'd done.


To make matters worse, Count Felix von Luckner's SMS Seeadler
appeared in the Central Pacific. Like the Seeteufel, she was a
three masted Barquentine-rigged sailing ship with auxiliary
Diesels and she began to cut a swathe through allied shipping in
the area North of Fiji.


-----------------------------------


Although the term 'schooner' had once referred to a particular
type of simplified sail rigging developed by the Americans in
the 1840s, by the 20th century the definition had become much
more generalised. Seeteufel and Seeadler were both either
referred to as 'schooners,' 'barquetines' or 'windjammers.' 


The barquetine rig was popular for commercial sailing vessels
at the end of the era of sail. The barquetine, by strict
definition, had three masts. The foremast was rigged with
squaresails, the other two by fore-and-aft, triangular sails.
They were well-balanced and had good sailing qualities, hence
their popularity.


The armaments on the sailing raiders necessitated considerable
redesign and strengthening of the hold area. Steel bulkheads
were inserted and steel beams replaced the original wood to
carry the weight of the guns.


Some armour was fitted around the magazine and shellroom areas,
but it was only an inch thick. Hardly enough to keep out any but
a rifle-calibre bullet. These vessels could not afford a stand
up fight with any enemy warship. 


The Pacific is a huge area of sea within which to find a single
disguised ship. The Emden, sporting a fourth dummy funnel, had
eluded considerable Allied forces in the Indian Ocean, a much
smaller area of sea. What chance had the combined fleets of
Japan, England, France and America had of bringing the Seeteufel
to book? Providing, of course, they could fully deploy that
immense force, which, of course, they couldn't.


--------------------------------------


At last the Seeteufel, as the Swedish SV Viggen, encountered a
Dutch freighter bound for Santiago in Chile. Von Seydlitz was
able to discharge his prisoners after considerable negotiations
with the Dutchman's Captain. The Germans provided him with a
signed promisory note for the cost of passage, redeemable at the
next Neutral port of call.


Convention dictated that the Dutch Captain did not report the
Seeteufel's position to the Allies. Such an act would be
considered hostile.


Von Seydlitz had the option of using a 'Lumpensammler.' The
word had a somewhat murky derivation but, in German Naval slang,
it meant a captured ship used as a supply vessel and prisoner
transport. The Seeteufel, being a sailing ship, needed all its
hands for shifting canvas and couldn't spare any crew to man a
prize.


Robert and Margaret Begg asked to see von Seydlitz. Through
Peters the interpreter, they asked that they remain on board on
the voyage to Hatutu. The German Captain was adamant, however.
Although he had considerable sympathy for their plight, and
respect for Robert, who'd tried to stand up for young Schopf
against Johnson, he wouldn't budge. The Beggs and their crewman
had to go on the Dutchman.


The Seeteufel then set a course for the Marquesas.


-------------------------------------


There was little to disturb the tranquility of the night on the
Northern Maquesan island of Hatutu. Off in the distance was the
constant pounding of the Pacific ocean on the island's volcanic
sands. Crickets twittered and some nocturnal animal could
occasionally be heard; rats, probably, immigrants from passing
ships.


The centre of the island is dominated by an extinct volcanic
cone dressed in low scrub. In a fertile strip between the beach
and where the ground starts to rise, there are palm trees,
ferns, some bamboo and other tropical flora. In amongst this
cover, Rupert had built their little home.


The breeze off the ocean was warm and humid and brought with it
the scent of marine life. It was approaching the time of year
when the hot atmosphere could no-longer absorb any more moisture
and dumped it in a series of torrential downpours for days on
end. The dry creeks of Hatutu became rushing rivers as the
volcano shed this deluge to the sea.


Joanna couldn't remember how long she spent with her arms
around Rupert. She could remember crying, blubbering like a baby
into his bare chest. He held her head gently in his hands,
stroked her hair and told her everything was all right.


She didn't know why she was crying. It could be the sudden
release of tension, worry over her parents and the situation
they now found themselves in. At the same time she felt an acute
embarrassment. She wanted Rupert to see her as grown woman, not
a child, and here she was moistening his chest.


She tried to apologise, but her voice wouldn't work. Instead,
he placed his hand on her cheek and smiled, then cradled her
head once more.


Joanna could remember their first kiss. Rupert's lips brushed
her hair, then her forehead. It thrilled her. She remembered the
erotic dreams she'd had, dreams of their naked bodies together.


That gentle touch snapped her back. She was suddenly aware of
his nakedness, the lower half of his body was covered by a
shirt. She could tell he wore nothing underneath. 


Her stomach knotted and a shiver coursed through her body. A
warm feeling began to spread out from between her legs. She
shuffled a little closer and pushed her hand down to the small
of his back. He flexed his muscles and she felt his skin ripple
beneath her fingers.


"Joanna?" he said. He pronounced her name 'Yo-warna, or
sometime 'Yo-harna.' It amused her in some strange way.
"Joanna," he repeated.


"Mmm?"


"Is not proper."


She looked up at him and shook her head, in agreement or not?
He couldn't tell which. Her lips were soft, moist and inviting.
He stroked an errant lock back from her face, then kissed her
lightly on the mouth.


Joanna watched him wrestle with his conscience. She'd already
decided, knew it when she rolled under their flimsy partition.
This time there'd be no withdrawal, no more battling against the
tide. She reach up and brushed the beginnings of his beard, then
advanced for another kiss.


Time appeared to stand still, there was no sound but their
laboured breathing. Even the sound of the Pacific rollers seemed
to fade. There was just him and her.


Their lips were locked together for a long, long time. She
thought he seemed well-practiced at the art of kissing because
his mouth melted to hers moving rhymically and insistantly.


Joanna's linen shirt seemed hot and sticky against her skin.
She wanted to feel him, flesh to flesh, as she had dreamed. She
pulled back from him to lift the garment over her head. Rupert
appeared transixed, licking his lips in anticipation. She got
tangled as she tried to pull her arms out of the sleeves. Rupert
sprang to her aid, as he'd done on innumerable occasions.


His jaw sagged as if he was going to speak. She shook her head,
she didn't want him to say anything, not now. Instead, she took
his hands and placed them around her, squashing her small
breasts into his chest.


They rolled together until Joanna was on her back with Rupert
on top. He was kissing her fiercely, her neck, lips, any part of
her he could reach. She was taken aback by the intensity of his
passion. His mouth reached her breasts and he suckled on each
nipple in turn. They burned with arousal, she moaned and
stiffened at the sensation.


Joanna felt him then, hard and urgent. His flimsy covering had
fallen off during their gentle wrestling. Rupert's bare thighs
straddled her's, his rigid penis pressed into her stomach.


She knew the mechanics of sex. No boarding school girl could
possibly be ignorant of such things a few weeks short of her
17th birthday. She'd listened to the talk and read the forbidden
books; had woken up at night after a vivid dream, hot and
sweaty, with a powerful itch between her legs. She'd played with
herself with her fingers until she was breathless.


Rupert's penis thrilled and frightened her at the same time. In
his powerful male presence she felt helpless, without free will,
and with a desperate need to be joined with him physically.


She wasn't quite sure later who took the lead. She remembered
his fingers stroking through her bush, seeking her vagina inside
her pants. She remembered holding his hard cock and of pulling
it between her legs. She remembered clutching his bottom as he
pushed his way past the obstruction of her hymen. She remembered
the brief pain followed by a flood of desire.


She didn't come, then, there was altogether too many amateurish
fumblings and inexperience. It was enough, however, for her to
want more, to relive the experience of being taken by someone
she loved.


And in love she was, now that the veil of denial had been blown
away. They murmured their love to each other as night continued
on to morning.


"Ich liebe Dich," he told her as he sleepily roused her in the
morning. He grinned stupidly at her and she laughingly batted
him away.


"Ja, also!" she told him in German as she emerged for breakfast.



---------------------------------


Commandant Krusenbourg guided the limping RFS Chasseur into the
only decent landing place on the remote island of Eiao. There
was one single pier jutting out into the open roadstead where
the fortnightly island steamer tied up. Like its near neighbour
Hatutu, it's a volcanic island, part of the chain caused by the
Pacific tectonic plate's ripping-up of the ocean floor.


A native village clung precariously to the coastal strip. The
Marquesans lived by fishing the fecund waters in their dugout
canoes. 


There were two or three European-style houses in the village,
adapted to the sweaty tropical climate. One doubled as a Church
and Native School run by the Society of Jesus. Two Jesuit
Brothers laboured there against the loose sexual morality of the
Polynesians. Another house belonged to the French Resident, a
semi-official position that allowed him to raise the tricoleur
every morning as proof of France's possession of the islands. He
also owned the only Marconi radio set on the island.


Hiram Willens, crewman on the American yacht MV Senator, had
been expecting the patrol ship for days. He'd escaped the
Seeteufel to raise the alarm, only to find doubt and downright
disbelief. 'C'est impossible,' he came to loathe that phrase.


Jean Jacque Krusenbourg was also a doubter, but he was also
bored. The islands of French Polynesia must have seemed like an
ideal posting for the Navy man, like ascending to paradise
without having to die. But, the Commandant was a man of action
and saw the war passing him by. He was jealous of the Royal
Navy, of the Harwich Destroyer flotillas, the Grand Fleet and
the Cruiser Squadrons that sometimes called at Tahiti.


Hiram's crazy story of German pirates intrigued him. Unlikely
as it was that a German raider was lurking off the Marquesas,
Krusenbourg had an instant vision of glory, of even sinking the
Seeteufel with the Chasseur's two puny 3 pounder guns. In any
case, it would do no harm to check the island, to see if the
story stacked up. The Germans must have left behind evidence,
bootprints, rubbish or signs of keeled boats having been drawn
up on the pristine sands.


He agreed with Hiram that the island of Hatutu deserved closer
examination.


----------------------------------


Admiral Michelet had little with which to contribute to the
search for the German raider. There was a scattering of old
patrol vessels throughout the islands, a flotilla of four
destroyers based at Papeete and his two old cruisers. However,
the Linois was terminally ill with lack-of-spare-parts and old
age and the Dupetit-Trouars would require several weeks of
intense effort to get her ready for sea.


He doubted he had sufficient coal reserves for extended
operations and his destroyers had limited range. Nevertheless,
he ordered the Dupetit to be prepared and provisioned. His
shells were unreliable, after so long in storage in the tropics,
so he ordered fresh supplies from France. Naturally, his guns
used a different calibre shell to the British so he couldn't
even borrow some. A pity, he thought, for one broadside of the
Dupetit's eight 230mm guns would have rendered the Seeteufel to
matchwood.


Meanwhile, he had to try and get all commercial shipping in the
region out of harm's way.


---------------------------------------


The creeks of Hatutu were beginning to dry up. The rock pool, a
short distance inland, was now barely deep enough to submerge
Rupert and Joanna's legs. Another week or two on the island and
it will become a serious issue.


As their eighth day on the island drew to a close, Joanna felt
her past life recede steadily into the background. Time had
little meaning outside of the seasons. To endure the isolation
she had to let go.


She and Rupert had had a fight, as much of a fight as it was
possible to have with the reticent German. She'd decided to go
for a swim in the sea to break-up the endless sameness of life
on the island. He'd told her she shouldn't, that the coral will
lacerate her feet and the currents too dangerous off shore. To
her ears, his imperfect English made the advice sound like a
command and she'd snapped.


She wasn't going to be treated like a child, he was not the
boss, he was too protective and possessive and he didn't know
everything. She spat the words out to Rupert who looked utterly
confused. 


She knew he was right, as he was in practically everything, but
that just made her feel worse. She'd stormed off, knowing he
would be going utterly frantic with worry. She could only walk
as far as the rookery, however, before the steep cliffs
prevented further progress. There, she sat looking out at the
monotony of the ocean while she waited for Rupert to follow, as
she knew he would.


Eventually he appeared, walking with a stick after some marine
creature had taken a bite of his foot. It was proof, she
thought, that he wasn't bulletproof.


"You all right?" he asked, softly. She knew he'd say that, in
exactly that tone of voice. She nodded and he sat down beside her.


"How's your foot?" she asked. "Y'know, you should be careful of
infection in this climate."


"Ja, I know. I find some medicinal herb."


"How do you know such things?" she asked, exasperated.


"The Navy taught us tropical medicine... how to survive in
Pacific Ocean... lots of things."


"Why? Did they expect you to be castaway on an island?" He
shrugged, then looked out to sea. "Do you still expect the
Seeteufel to come back?"


"Maybe," he answered. She detected doubt in the reply where
once certainty had been the order of the day.


"What if it doesn't?" she asked, turning to look at his face.
He shrugged again, seemed unable to reply. She wanted to ask
what was to become of their relationship, would it survive their
rescue? Would he march back to his duty and forget about her.
Or, if he went as a prisoner of the French, and she back to her
home in the States, would they still hunger for each other from
opposite sides of the World? She knew he didn't have an answer
for her. How could he know? "Rupert, I'm sorry," she told him.


He took a long time to reply. "Sometimes, things come out
wrong," he said, "I should say that you must wear something on
feet and stay within 100 metre from shore. I did not mean to
offend."


"It's just," she explained, "that you make everything sound
like an order. I'm not one of the foremast team on your ship."


"No," he agreed, "too pretty to be sailor."


"Am I?" she blushed.


"Ja, will make seamen fall off foot-ropes on crosstrees," he
grinned, "will be distracted and land hard on deck."


"Stop it!" she laughed and put her head on his shoulder. 


"Your hair needs washing," he told her, combing his fingers
through the tangle. She made a face at him. "rub pummice over
'perspicum mitre' plant make good shampoo."


"Will you do it for me?" she asked. Flashing him her
'kittenish' expression.


"Ja, of course!"


"In the pool under the rocks?"


"Ja, is good for my foot, also."


"It wasn't your foot I was thinking about," she giggled. She
was pleased to see that he was the one to blush this time.


Rupert carefully combed through her wet hair with a scallop
shell he'd made into a comb for her. It massaged her scalp, she
crooned in pleasure. She saw his foot was puffy and red and must
be causing him pain. He had it  dipped in the trickling water to
clean the wound.


They sat on woven mats placed on the floor of the pool to keep
their bare bottoms off the basalt rock. As Rupert finished his
ministrations, they leaned back on a flat stone that had been
tipped at a convenient angle by some long-ago rockslide. They
allowed the filtered light through the treeferns to warm them to
a sense of well-being.


He adjusted his foot in the water, opening his legs a little.
It drew her attention to the poor shrunken thing idly rolling
around on his groin. She wondered how such a pathetic-looking
object could grow to... 'Behind me Satan,' she thought and made
a mental sign of the cross.


His leg pressed against hers and she placed her hand on his
bare thigh. She played with his wirey hairs before lightly
stroking the inside of his leg. With her index finger, she
nudged a pearly ball, his flaccid cock brushing the back of her
hand.


He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his
shoulder. He bent and kissed her on the forehead. Her fingers
continued to play with him, pushing his scrotum around like
snooker balls. His face flickered in a brief smile and he grazed
the side of her right breast with his fingers.


She got a reaction out of him. His dick started to wake up and
was now waving in the current. He kissed her on the mouth while
his fingertips played with her nipple. Joanna ran her palm up
the underside of his cock and felt it twitch.


She thought of their lovemaking over the last three days and
nights. They'd soon grown in experience after their first clumsy
attempts. He was always patient with her, but now he was just a
little more demanding, just a little more selfish and it excited
her. It felt to her that his desire matched her own, that he
wasn't just trying to please but had needs of his own. He even
initiated sex on some occasions, a request she was only too
happy to meet.


She pressed her leg a little harder against his, opening her
legs wider. She could feel his eyes on her dark bush, she wanted
him to look, wanted him to see the invitation.


He hummed and stroked his hand over her body, over her breasts,
stomach and lower, until his fingers parted her folds to explore
her vagina. She drew on his hardening penis with just a little
more urgency, feeling it stiffen, unfold, until it stood up out
of the water.


Joanna twisted towards him, draping a leg over his thighs. He
still played with her, opening her up, stoking her itch.


"Oh!" she sighed, "oh!" She wanted him right there, right
beneath the ferns. She straddled him, bit and licked his chest,
and slid herself up and down his hard penis until, rising up,
she impaled herself.


Rupert rose up to meet her as best he could, but this was her
game. She found his hard pubic bone and ground down on it,
relishing his stiff meat wedged deep inside her. He seemed
startled by her assault, replaced by a bemused expression.
Joanna moved faster and faster as she got close to her  release.
He grabbed the cheeks of her bottom, felt the sensitive region
beneath with his fingertips and guided her movements. "Oh
Rupert," she breathed between gasps of pleasure, "oh, Love!"


She howled into his bony shoulder as she came. Rupert was still
stabbing at her but she was done. She hadn't felt him spurt in
her, knew he had a little more to go but her orgasm had drained
the energy from her.


"Off!" he told her in a voice strained with lust and
frustration, "like this, so!" He placed her on all fours on the
flat rock, knelt behind her, and pushed himself back inside.
Holding her firmly by the arse he pounded her rapidly as she
desperately gripped the edge of the stone.


She came again, long and noisily, each new peak followed the
other as she rose up and up to new heights. She felt exquisitely
used, a lush receptacle for his need. He growled and grunted and
she felt herself being filled up, felt his burning liquid blast
deep inside her. He held her for a moment with his cock jammed
into her vagina as far as it would go. Eventually she felt him
pull out and let go of her.


It seemed like an age that she remained there clutching the
rock with her arse in the air. It was Rupert that coaxed her
into sitting down, that lifted her back into the pool, that put
his arm around her. She managed a smile through moist eyes. He
kissed her affectionately.


They walked back to their campsite as naked as when they went
up. Joanna felt as if she was floating, like she'd taken some
drug. If Rupert hadn't been there to prop her up she was certain
she would've been crawling. 


"Y know?" he told her, "we could make babies if we're not
careful!"


"It just shows you don't always think of everything," she
replied. He just grunted a reply and shrugged his shoulders.


As twilight came, she sat in the sand while Rupert prepared
their evening meal. The food situation was becoming a problem.
There was an abundant harvest from the sea but they were short
on fruit and vegetables. Joanna was growing bored with the
monotony of their diet, although Rupert tried hard to vary it,
to flavour things up with wild herbs. 


The creek beds were drying up. If they didn't get help soon
they'd be running out of fresh water. She knew it concerned him,
that he was thinking up a way of alleviating the situation. She
was sure he'd think up some scheme.


--------------------------------------------


Krusenbourg decided to sail for Hatutu in the morning. It was
merely an hour or two away with the Chasseur and he saw no point
of arriving at the island at night in those reef-strewn waters.
His 15 crew were billeted in the Jesuit Mission.


To the bemusement of the skeptical priests, the French Captain
had his guns cleaned and greased. His engineer struggled all
night to get the other engine working properly. Finally, in
frustration, he had the offending pipe sawn off and the stub
crimped and welded. Now sealed, he was pleased to report that he
would be able to run the engine on two cylinders with the
exhaust steam blasting out through the release valve. The feed
to the condenser would be halved, however, and he explained to
Krusenbourg that he couldn't run it for long without running low
on boiler feedwater. It was only an emergency measure. The
captain thanked him and sent the harrassed man to bed.


---------------------------------------


When Joanna woke in the morning, she had a feeling that
something was wrong. She saw their cooking fire had been doused
and she couldn't see Rupert down at the beach fishing.


She became aware of a strange smell. It wasn't the smoking
embers of their fire but something else, a faint smell that
reminded her of sulfur, perhaps. Emerging from their hut she
looked up into the sky and detected a stain of dirty brown smoke
drifting lazily inland. Just then there was rustling behind her.


"Joanna!" Rupert whispered urgently, "a ship is here."


Her joy was shortlived when she looked at Rupert's face. He was
anxious, perhaps a little frightened.


"What ship?" she asked.


"It's French," he told her.


"What are we going to do?" she asked. It slowly dawned on her
that this was probably the end of everything they'd created on
this island. She was bound to lose Rupert, she reflected his fear.


"We hide," he suggested, "see what they're going to do. Leave
everything and run into the bush, come." He took her hand and
plunged into the undergrowth.


----------------------------------------


The Chasseur lowered a boat and Hiram rowed ashore with
Krusenbourg and two sailors. The Frenchman told Hiram he was
sure someone had been living there, someone other than the
Marquesan fishermen that sometimes camped around the point. It
appeared to be confirmed when they spotted footprints in the
sand leading off into the vegetation.


Carefully the party followed the trail. The Frenchman took out
his service revolver and the sailors worked the bolts on their
rifles. Shortly, they discovered Rupert and Joanna's campsite
with their meagre belongings scattered about. Hiram looked into
the hut. The first thing he saw was Rupert's holstered revolver
hanging on its hook on the post. He showed Krusenbourg.


"German!" he announced, "see, the maker's mark? Standard issue
German Navy service pistol. They're here, my friend."


"And Joanna Begg," Hiram told her, "look, her diary!"


"She doesn't look to be a prisoner," the French Officer said,
ruefully.


Hiram looked back at the sleeping arangements and smiled. "It
appears not," he confirmed.


"They're hiding. I'll summon more men and we'll look for them,
yes?"


"Tell your men to be careful what they shoot at, ok?" Hiram
said, "she's just a girl and an American citizen, remember?"


"A girl?" Krusenbourg raised his eyebrows, "I think she's a
woman now."


Just then a rifle shot rang out from the Chasseur anchored
close in beneath the cliffs. They all looked and saw the signal
flag run up the mast, 'ship in sight.' "Come, boys, back to the
ship, Krusenbourg yelled, "Hiram, you stay here and we'll
investigate. Take the German's gun." The French seamen ran to
the boat and quickly rowed back to the Chasseur.


------------------------------------


"What do you see?" von Seydlitz called out to Olaf, high up the
mainmast of the Seeteufel. The lookout slid down the ropes to
the deck.


"Small steamer, under the cliffs, French!"


"Is it a warship, the mail steamer perhaps?"


"Hard to tell against the land, but I think it has maybe three
or four funnels."


"A patrol boat," von Seydlitz considered, "probably and old
Mousquette class torpedo boat. Theo," he called to his number
two, "we've got trouble, turn the ship around!" The helmsman
swung the wheel and slowly the Seeteufel began turn back out to
sea. "Lower the sails, start engines!"


"Are we going to make a run for it?" asked Theo.


"Can't risk a battle," von Seydlitz told him, "if that boat
slipped under our guns within torpedo range... ellusive little
things those torpedo boats."


"Sir, there may be others?" They'd been monitoring the radio
broadcasts and knew the word was out. Their first thought was
that the Chasseur was part of the hunt for the German raider.


"We'll see what she does," von Seydlitz told him, "in any case,
if we have to fight we'll need sea room to maneuvre."


--------------------------------------


Krusenbourg was confident that he'd found Hiram's German
pirates, particularly when the sailing ship turned and made off.
He ordered the Chasseur to sea immediately he went back on board.


The German had a good start on him and, under engine power, the
vessel seemed several knots faster than the Chasseur.
Nevertheless, the Frenchman ordered his engineer to put on as
much power as her engines could manage.


Black oily smoke poured from her four funnels as all the
boilers were lit. The ancient compound steam engines banged and
clattered as the engineer screwed down the safety valves to
wring another pound of steam pressure out of them. Rollers broke
over the low foc'sle and crashed against the forward gun
mounting. The drenched crew hung on to whatever they could find.


On the bridge, Krusenbourg and his Officers peered at the
raider through their binoculars from the wildly plunging patrol
boat. They could see their vessel was gaining slightly on the
German, but only slightly. The old boat was straining its rivets
to catch up and Krusenbourg feared he would lose the race.


On the Seeteufel, von Seydlitz reached an altogether different
conclusion from the antics of the Frenchman. He didn't know
about the state of her engines, nor did he know she wasn't
carrying torpedoes.


"She stalking us," he concluded to Theo, "see? She will tail us
until nightfall then attack with torpedoes."


"We can't allow that, sir."


"Exactly! We must play our cards now, Theo, let's show the
flag. What's her range?"


"7 or 8000 metres?"


"Come about to starboard by 3 points, drop the masks, open fire
when you're ready."


"Sir."


---------------------------------------


Hiram Willens stood for a while on the beach calling. He knew
the pair couldn't be far away. After checking Rupert's pistol,
he decided to leave it in its holster, he hadn't come for a
fight. 


Not far off, Joanna and Rupert watched him from their hideaway
in the trees. They were puzzled by the Chassuer's hasty
departure, the Seeteufel had been too far away for them to see.


"You must answer him," Rupert whispered.


"But what will happen to you?" she asked.


"I will be all right. I hide here, don't betray me."


"No, I'm not leaving you," she told him, "look, it's only
Hiram, I'll talk to him. Come, come on!" Joanna took his hand
and dragged him reluctantly from cover. "Hiram, here we are,"
she yelled.


As they emerged, Hiram threw out his arms and hugged the girl.
Rupert looked on scowling, uncertain as to what was going to
happen to him.


Joanna excitedly told Hiram how they came to be marooned and
explained that Rupert had known what to do and had looked after
her. The American looked at Rupert with a strange expression.
The crewman in turn told her about his experiences and that the
Chasseur had gone off after the Seeteufel.


Noticing Rupert's anxious expression, Hiram said, "I wouldn't
worry too much about the Frenchie, Rupert. She's old and slow,
you should see the state of her," he shook his head. "Your ship
would outrun her, even under sail."


Just then, from far out to sea, came a dull boom like a peel of
thunder. The trio looked out to the horizon. They all saw a
brief flash followed a few seconds later by another boom.
"Gunfire!" Hiram stated the obvious.


Joanna came and stood by Rupert. Gently she placed a comforting
hand on the small of his back.


"Who's that?" Hiram asked Rupert.


"The Seeteufel," he told him, "it's a Krupp 88, no doubt."


"Hmm, I didn't take Krusenbourg for a fool," Hiram told them.


KATZMAREK(C)




