JOANNA AND THE SEA DEVIL


By KATZMAREK


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This is a work of erotic fiction. It remains the Author's property and may not be used for gain without his express permission in writing.


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'Tickety tick, tick, tick, tick.' The Morse stream from the earphone was barely audible. The two men leaned closer to the radio set, frowns on their faces.


"What do you make of it?" asked the taller of the men to the harried Radioman.


"The hand's not experienced, like amateur," he replied in halting Norwegian. "The signal's faint... I think running low on battery power, maybe?"


"Where are they?" asked the bearded, stooping, older man.


"I think no more than 12 kilometres to the Northeast of us. Drifting, they say... engine stopped."


"Identification?"


"MV Senator, is American... Private yacht," the radioman explained, "200 registered tonnage."


"That's big for a yacht!" remarked the tall man.


"Sir," the third man spoke, drawing the other man aside, "perhaps we should ignore it? It could be a ruse?"


"Possibly," the tall man considered, "but I think she's too near American territorial waters for a trick. I think we should check it out. Perhaps they might have information, newspapers. I think it's worth the risk."


"Should we start the motors?"


"No, under canvas. There's a good breeze so why should we waste fuel? Lay in a course."


"Yes, Skipper." Their boots rang on the metal of the ladder as they went back topside. The sky was clear and blue, the warm wind filled the billowing sails and sang through the rigging. Underneath, the ship creaked in the fashion of all wooden sailing ships. The white hull gleamed in the strong sunlight like some picture postcard.


The skipper squinted at the top of the mainmast and observed the triangular red flag and blue cross of Norway's Merchant Marine. He took one long look along the deck. Everything seemed innocuous; the stacks of timber deck-cargo fore and aft, the crew casually dressed in striped shirts and Bermuda shorts. Some had tied the flaps of their trousers tight with cord. Many had bare feet, the better for climbing the rigging. Beards were 'de rigeur' among the crew. Straw boaters or woollen fisherman's hats the preferred headwear.


The ship lurched under the helm as she swung onto the new bearing. Crew vigourously wound the sheets of the square-rigged foremast tighter. The Skipper instinctively watched the big boom of the mainsail as it was adjusted to the wind. Many an inexperienced crewman had been knocked off their feet, or even worse, by the metal-banded, foot thick length of wood.


"Olaf!" yelled the Skipper, "get up top and see what you can see!"


"Aye, Sir," answered a seaman.


The SV Stavanger's Second Officer came back forward, having given the sailing instructions to the helm.


"What do we do with them?" he asked.


"Whatever's practical," shrugged the Skipper, "if they have engine failure, maybe the Engineer can get it going for them."


"Won't they be suspicious of an Engineer on a sailing ship?"


"It's not uncommon for vessels of our type to have an auxiliary motor, Theo. Stay relaxed, they won't suspect anything."


"If you think so," muttered the 2nd Officer.


Eventually, from atop the mainmast, the lookout bellowed, "mast top, off starboard bow!"


"Bear on it," ordered the Skipper, "nice navigation, Theo!"


"Thank you, Sir."


"Oh, don't be so formal!"


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Gradually the vessel revealed itself over the curvature of the Earth. First, its single mast, then its black hull. It was rolling heavily in the freshening swell. Plainly it was adrift in the current, being carried slowly down to the Baja Californian coast.


Pointlessly, the yacht fired a distress flare. The Stavanger's crew watched it hang in the sky before slowly plummeting to the sea. The big Schooner, at nearly 1800 tons, was considerably larger than the American Yacht. It had to maneuvre carefully to avoid swamping or even striking the smaller craft. The Stavanger's crew, however, were skilled, and the Schooner came to a stop off the Yacht's lee. The squaresails were backed, the fore and aft, triangular mainsail dropped.


Five figures on the deck of the American waved enthusiastically at the Stavanger. A man called out to them in English.


"Get Peters," ordered the Stavanger's Skipper. He closely observed the other vessel with his binoculars and waited for the English speaker to arrive. The crewman hurried to the Skipper's side. "Ask them what's the trouble."


He waited patiently while an unintellible exchange continued with the foreign crew of the American. Eventually, Peters turned to his Captain and translated the Yacht's requests.


"Sir," said Peters, "they say their motor has broken down and they're taking water. It's up to two feet in their bilges, sir. Their battery power is low, their radio's failing and they're low on fresh water and food."


"Their bilge pump?"


"Runs off engine power, sir."


"That's stupid! Haven't they hand pumps?"


"Yes, but they say the water's gaining on them. They're exhausted and fear the boat will founder in a matter of hours."


"Sir," cried the Second Officer in alarm, "we can't have them on board!"


"Are you saying we should let them drown? Are we barbarians?" the Skipper snapped back, "no. We'll see what we can do over there and, if we can't get their motor going, we will have to rescue them."


The Skipper decided to check on the vessel personally and had himself and his translator, Peters, rowed over in the little skiff. He legged himself over the side as one long-experienced at sea and stood on the teak deck of the American.


He saw it was a well-built vessel, the main saloon was built with fine mahogany and the whole displayed excellent workmanship. If the crew was correct, there was no saving the ship and he thought it a pity.


And his experience told him it was true, the ship was doomed. It lifted reluctantly in the swell, he could feel the heavy, wallowing motion of the roll, evidence there were tons of seawater down below. He had to check, though, and confirmed that the engine compartment was partly flooded. His Engineer wouldn't be able to get the pumps working.


There were five people on the Yacht, three men and two women. Two of the men appeared to be the crew. The other man and the women appeared to be a family; man, wife and daughter. Through Peters, he introduced himself.


"I am Lars Gundersson, Master of the SV Stavanger, this is Ivar Peters. We are Norwegian."


"American, sir," said the older man, "Robert Begg, my wife Margaret and daughter Joanna. These two are my crew," he indicated the other men, "Hiram and Rufe. I thank you for coming."


"I see your ship will sink shortly. I'm sorry, but I fear you will have to accompany us on board my vessel."


The Americans looked exhausted and hungry. Clearly they'd experienced an unpleasant couple of days on board the wallowing vessel. Particularly the women, seemed overjoyed to be getting off the thing. Lars watched them being rowed over to the Stavanger two at a time. He sent Peters back with the last crewman then went down to the saloon for a look around.


Robert Begg had taken all the ship's papers and log, however, scattered about were other things of interest. When the skiff returned he had a box of stuff waiting.


"Where are the Americans?" he asked the crewman.


"We took them down to the mess, Skipper, they were very hungry."


"Good. Come with me, let's have another look around."


In the cabins there was a scattering of personal items. They put some of these in a sack to take back for the Americans. However, in the main cabin he found what he was looking for, a newspaper.


"Schopf, do you see this?" the Skipper said, holding up a copy of the 'San Diego Chronicle,' "is this what I think it is?"


"Sir!" said the crewman in shock, "America has declared war!"


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Immediately upon returning to the Stavanger, the Skipper called for the Senior Officers to attend a meeting in his cabin. Five of them trooped in, the Engineer, 2nd Officer, 3rd Officer, Navigator and Sailing Master. He had them all sit down in the small cabin, on whatever they could find to sit on.


"Gentleman," he started, "the situation has changed. The Americans have declared war on Germany."


There were general exclamations of shock and surprise. This had not entered their calculations. Obviously, some kind of plan of action had to be worked out.


"Any suggestions?" asked the Skipper.


"American harbours are obviously out," Theo said.


"We will need to replenish supplies before the end of the month," commented the 3rd Officer, Erik Thorvald.


"Perhaps a supply ship got out before the declaration?" suggested the Engineer, "we should sail to the grid reference just in case."


"What if they were interned?" said Theo, "how long should we wait for it out there. We will run out of fresh water before..."


"South America, we should go to a South American port for supplies. That would be the safest option," suggested the Engineer.


"But we'll be inspected by their Customs," protested the 2nd Officer, "they're sure to discover..."


"Yes," the Skipper agreed, "they'll discover that we're not what we seem. We'll have to take what we need, from prizes."


"This must include American ships from now on," the Engineer said.


"Yes, you're correct, Engineer. In the absence of official notification I think we can assume that American vessels are now fair game."


"What about our Guests, Skipper, are we going to tell them?" Theo asked.


"I will," he said. Standing up, he kicked the panel under his bed. It flicked open and he reached in and retrieved a uniform jacket and cap. Donning these, he left the cabin and went down the passageway to the mess.  Entering, he stood stiffly at attention before the startled Americans. He spied Peters acting as host to the famished crew of the Yacht.


"Peters," he said, "you will translate, please. Ladies and Gentlemen," he announced, "welcome to Seine Majestat's Schiffe 'Seeteufel'. We are a ship of war of the German Kaiser." The Americans looked at Lars Gundersson, their mouths hanging open in shock. "My name is Kapitan zur See Count von Seydlitz. I regret the deception." With that, he spun on his heels and left them to absorb the news.


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Joanna Begg sat with her back against the foreward capstan, writing. There was nothing much alse to do on the Seeteufel except grumble. That task was being ably accomplished by her Mother and Father and their two crewmen. She decided to keep a record of their capitivity, she was tired of listening to the others' complaints.


At first, her Father couldn't believe that the Germans would use a windjammer as a warship. He didn't know for what purpose such a vessel could be employed. He could only think of landing spies and saboteurs somewhere down the American coast. Joanna overheard the others talking last night. They were thinking of ways they could alert a passing ship.


Her Mother said that they should think of the ladies. That if they antagonised the Germans then they might harm the women. She thought it best to go along with everything they said and perhaps they'd put them on a passing ship or on Hawaii.


"You seriously think," her Father had said, "that the Krauts are going to put us ashore on American territory? They're in disguise, for Christ's sake. They ain't going to let us go to spill the beans."


Her Mother had complained about him blaspheming. Her Father had told her that that was the least of their worries. It ended in an argument and Hiram and Rufe came and sat with Joanna.


'Dear diary,' she began, 'what I hate worst is the smell. The men can go topside and wash. The Germans rig a shower in the rigging and all the men get naked and stand under it in turns. We women have to wait down below.'


'After a day on the Seeteufel, the Germans let us up on deck for a few hours during daytime. A crewman stands guard by us at all times armed with a pistol in his belt. Daddy has funny nicknames for each of them.'


'We are only allowed between the bows and the foremast. The Germans put up a rope across the deck to stop us going aft. They are very serious about it as Daddy found out.'


'Yesterday he walked aft to the rope and put his leg over. The guard went bezerk at him and pointed his pistol. Daddy told us there was something strange about the deck cargo. He said he spotted a shiney piece of metal on it and went to have a look. He said he thought it was part of a hinge. What do you suppose they'd have a hinge on a stack of timber for? He asked us. I don't know, Daddy's the builder, I don't know about such things.'


Joanna looked up as they relieved the guard. It was the guy her Father called 'boggles.' He always had his head in a book.


'Boggles' knew some English. Joanna thought he understood more words than he could speak. Her Father had urged her to talk to him, to find out anything she could. Her Mother disapproved, but then she always disapproved of everything she did.


"What are you reading?" Joanna asked him as clearly as she could.


"Gesichte... ah... History, Yes?" he answered.


"What is your name?"


"Rupert, as in Prinz Rupert von der Rhein, yes?"


"Who?"


"Is big leader in English Civil War, he capture Bristol for English King. He came from Heidelburg, same as me."


"You were named after him?"


"Prinz Rupert, ja!" he beamed in pleasure.


Later, when she told her Father all that she'd discovered, he shrugged his shoulders.


"So, I'm the Goddam Queen of Sheba!" he told her, "ask him where the Hell we're going, ferchrissake!"


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The Beggs had left San Diego 10 days ago for a cruise among the Channel Islands before heading down to Tijuana. A self-made millionaire, Robert Begg had made a fortune constructing low-cost housing until he now ran one of the biggest construction companies on the West Coast.


The price of all this wealth had been heavy. He barely knew his daughter, his family was all but alienated from him, as he worked more than 12 hours a day building up the company. He'd decided to buy the MV Senator, go for cruises with his wife and daughter and recapture some sort of family life.


However, a sudden squall off San Diego had sprung some timbers on the Yacht and water had contaminated the Diesel oil. They'd been drifting for three days before being rescued by the Seeteufel.


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Von Sedlitz/Gunderson watched Olaf swinging from high in the rigging of the mainmast. The man was like a monkey with the eyes of an eagle, he thought. He held onto the ratline with one hand while pressing his binoculars to his face. Apparently satisfied with his observation, he let go of the binoculars to let them dangle from his neck, then slid down the rope to the maindeck.


"Sir," he told his Captain, "too much smoke for a single ship. They look to be a small squadron of some sort... or a convoy."


"Warships!" von Seydlitz told the man, "there'll be no convoys this far to the East. The Americans are still 'single sailing'. Theo!" he called, "lower the sails. Summon the Engineer... start engines. Helm, port 90, come about!" He strode quickly aft calling out orders. "Alarm, alarm, everyone topside, now!"


The hatches flew open as men tumbled out from down below. Quickly they ran to the masts to bring the canvas in. This was a well-practiced routine.


Down in the engine room, the Engineer sent his Mechanics down the banks of cylinders lighting the spirit preheaters for the two big, 1000 horsepower,  M.A.N, submarine-type, Diesel engines. He fitted the two crank handles into their recesses on the massive crankcases and two men each began to wind on them. At the top of the mizzen mast, puffs of dense white smoke emerged from the exhaust concealed alongside the thick length of Baltic pinewood.


The engines began to rock, emitting a slow, dull thudding. The Engineer walked down the catwalk between and opened the vent-piece on each cylinder in turn. With a wheel fixed onto each injector, he carefully adjusted the fuel flow until he was satisfied with the colour of the flame. At last, he  announced he was happy with the running of the engines and rang the telegraph. Watching the dial, he saw it curl into the 'full ahead' zone. With a wave of his hands, he ordered the engines to be run up to full speed.


Topside, the ship vibrated, heeling over as the helm was swung frantically to port. Waves rose up over the bows and crashed onto the fo'cstle to drain away through the scuppers.


"Quick!" 'Boggles' said to the Beggs, "down below, down below."


Joanna stumbled and fell as the family sprinted for the hatch. 'Boggles' stopped and helped her to her feet. Before she followed the family down the steps, she saw a group of the crew run to the stack of timber on the deck. Like magic, a secret door opened and the men disappeared inside. Before 'Boggles' escorted her down the ladder she saw a large, black, cylindrical object inside.


"A gun!" her Father said in astonishment when she told him later, "this ship is armed!"


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HMS Sussex was a County Class cruiser of the Royal Navy armed with 6 inch guns. Her Captain was Commander Alexander Debenham, a Regular Naval Officer of long experience.


Four Counties, HMS Sussex, HMS Suffolk, HMS Northampton and HMS Cornwall, were on their way to coal at San Diego before continuing down into the Atlantic on their voyage home. They had been operating out of Hong Kong for the last 6 months. The crews were happy to be going home.


Debenham had no idea that there was a disguised German raider loose off the West Coast of North America. He was, though, ordered to keep watch on neutral shipping and to examine suspicious vessels. Therefore, he was interested when the lookout spotted the masts of a sailing ship well to the South of them. He was further interested when the vessel took in its sails.


"He's gone," the lookout reported via the telephone, "sir, he was there and now he's gone."


"Well he couldn't have vanished into thin air," he told the lookout, irritated, "look again!"


"He dropped his sails, sir, then turned away!"


"Captain, perhaps we should check it out?" his 1st Officer suggested, "it's very suspicious, don't you think?"


The Commander of the squadron was Rear Admiral Arthur. At this time he was in his cabin on the flagship, HMS Suffolk. Commander Debenham decided to report the sighting to the leader of the Squadron. The Admiral detached Northampton because it had the largest reserve of coal. Consequently it bore off from the rear of the squadron and gradually worked up to full speed, giving chase.


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On board the Seeteufel, the lookout gave the terrible news. After 20 minutes on their new bearing it was obvious that one of the warships was pursuing them.


The crew was at action stations, the two 88mm Krupp guns loaded and their 'timber cargo' disguise ready to fall away. Below, the magazine and shell room crews were anxiously waiting. Olaf was swinging from the mainmast reporting their pursuer's position.


Despite its aggressive pretentions, the Seeteufel still only had a wooden hull. It was just a sailing ship with a couple of naval guns grafted on it. It was no-more capable of a stand up seafight then flying. Although it was fitted with a couple of powerful Diesels, in a long chase, it couldn't possibly outrun a cruiser such as the Northampton.


Von Seydlitz was well aware of the precarious situation. He was the younger of two brothers in a family steeped in military and Naval service. From Koenigsburg, Capital of Royal Prussia, seat of the Knights of the Sword, von Seydlitz had behind him centuries of tradition that said that to strike one's colours was unthinkable.


In the flag locker, ready to raise at a moments notice, was the huge battle ensign of the Imperial German Navy. As well, von Seydlitz had a personal pennant, a white flag emblazoned with the coat of arms of the von Seydlitz family, featuring the black cross of the Teutonic Knights, the Knights of the Sword.


Von Seydlitz, though, had one possible trump card. Below the waterline the Imperial Dockyards in the Jade River had fitted her with torpedo tubes, one on each side of the ship. All he needed was for the British cruiser to stop close on his broadside and he could hit it with a torpedo before she could react.


"Load fish," he ordered down the voice tube, "open outer doors and pressurise tubes... then stand by."


Grimly, he ordered the Seeteufel to slow and come about to await the British.


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'Dear Diary," wrote Joanna Begg, 'we are back in our corner of the mess room. The Germans have closed the shutters over the windows so it is quite dark.'


'Rupert is sitting at the table. For once he's not reading. Instead he's looking around him nervously.'


'There was a lot of banging and shouting from up top. Now it's deathly quiet, even the booming from the engines has stopped. I don't know what's worse, the noise or the silence.'


'Hiram said he thought it was just another drill. He used to be in the Navy so he knows about such things. Daddy argued with him, he said this was different from the other drills. He said the Germans seemed in a panic, as if a Navy ship was chasing them.'


'I do hope the Navy has found us. Hiram said this ship is no match for even the smallest American warship. He said the hull is wooden and they wouldn't dare get into a fight.'


'Daddy, Hiram and Rufe are making plans. They say they'll try and signal the Navy to let them know we're here in case they fire on us.'


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"What are you writing?" Rupert asked Joanna, "always you writing, what are you writing?" His voice was not interrogative. Rather, Joanna thought, he sounded frightened and wanted to take his mind off what was happening on the deck above.


"A diary, I'm writing a diary," she replied.


"Can I see?" he asked.


"No, you can't!" she told him, alarmed.


"Oh," he looked disappointed, "secret?"


"Yes, secret!"


"Ah!"


"Can you tell us what's happening?"


"Not sure," he said, dropping his voice, "I think ship coming. I think British Navy. Is not good for us."


"What is to happen to *us*?" she asked.


"Um, not sure. Maybe we fool them, ja? Maybe we won't have to fight them!"


"Fight them? How?" Joanna asked, shocked.


"With cannons. Is all right, we fool them, you see."


Rupert didn't inspire confidence, however.


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The distant ship resolved itself into a four-funnelled, British cruiser. Her Morse lamp began flashing, asking the Seeteufel to hove to. That was pointless as the sailing ship had been stopped for 25 minutes.


But instead of approaching the Seeteufel on her port side, it approached her on her port forequarter, coming to a stop across her bows. This was tactically the worst possible position for the German ship. Because of the foremast, the Seeteufel could not fire her guns dead ahead. The torpedo tube was fixed, not trainable, so it wasn't possible to aim it at the British ship. Lastly, because the German raider was stopped she was unable to maneuvre in any way. She was helpless.


Von Seydlitz was alarmed. There was no choice but to bluff their way through. The Northampton's lamp began flashing again. 2nd Officer Theo Seekt translated the signal for the Captain.


"'Norwegian vessel, please identify... last and next ports of call... cargo'."


"Ok, signal, repeat, 'SV Stavanger, Oslo, from San Diego to Suva, timber,'  see if they accept that." Soon the reply came back from the British warship.


"Bon voyage, Stavanger," repeated the 2nd Officer.


"Bon voyage?" asked the Captain in surprise.


"Yes sir, it's French."


"I know it's French," Von Seydlitz snapped, "they chase us halfway across the Pacific to say, 'bon voyage?"


"Apparently, these English are very friendly."


"Are you trying to be amusing?"


"Of course not, sir," said the 2nd Officer, smiling.


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Commander Mortlock of HMS Northampton had followed his instructions to the letter. The flagship had ordered him to intercept a vessel to the South of the Squadron and identify. It was not explained why, he was not briefed as to its strange behaviour, Mortlock merely assumed it was a routine check of a neutral vessel. Happily, he signalled the sailing ship's identification back to the flaghip.


'Flag to Northampton,' the reply came back, 'suggest you examine Stavanger's papers and interview Master.'


"What?" said Mortlock, aghast. The Northampton was already steaming hard to catch up with the rest of the Squadron. He read the signal again. "Examine papers? Interview Master? What in blazes for?"


"Perhaps it's a U boat in disguise?" said his 1st Officer, chuckling.


"A very good disguise, Wilson," he told the Officer, "very well, let's turn around and have another look."


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Meanwhile, the Seeteufel had restarted her engines and was motoring hard to the South West. Von Seydlitz was surprised by his luck but was taking no further chances. The ship was under full power, exceeding her design speed of 16 knots.


Gone was any hope of making the 'Mid-Ocean Meeting Point,' that grid in the Central Pacific of about 100 square kilometres where German raiders could expect to meet supply ships, called 'Milk Cows.' Instead, he decided to head for the Marquesas, where he could replenish their fresh water. Perhaps too, he might find an island trader and capture it for supplies.


By the time Northampton resumed the pursuit, Seeteufel was over the horizon on a diverging course. Reluctantly, Mortlock had to signal the flagship that he'd lost sight of the sailing ship. He was ordered to return to the Squadron, he'd burned up enough coal.


Down below in the mess hall, Joanna was feeling a little seasick. The ship was pitching and rolling in the manner of all sailing ships under auxiliary power and without sails. She sat at a mess table, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of it for support.


Above, the shutters were opened allowing light to once again filter in. It was stifling hot, all the portholes were shut to prevent water from coming in as the vessel pounded South towards the Marquesas. Rupert had taken off his shirt, his torso was shining with perspiration. He was sitting opposite her. She watched his silver dogtags swinging to and fro across his chest in fascination.


His body was lean and sinewy, skin well-toned from months at sea. Joanna became aware of his very maleness. She also became aware of her blouse soaking wet and clinging to her skin. She felt dirty and smelly, her hair ratty and tangled. Idly, she wondered what Rupert was thinking of her. Strange, such things now seemed to be important to her.


Her Mother looked ill and miserable. She was slumped in a corner with a pillow behind her that someone had found for her. The men talked quietly among themselves in the other corner. Joanna supposed they were plotting something. She suspected her Father wanted her to keep Rupert occupied and out of the way so they could talk.


"We fool British," Rupert explained, "we go now to get supplies. Maybe Captain will let you go?"


"Do you think so?" she brightened.


Ja, prisoners is burden," he told her, "they use supplies... will be in way if we have to fight. Is not safe for you here."


"Where are we going?" she asked.


"They not tell me. I think, maybe, we go to meet supply ship somewhere. Or go to French Polynesien to capture ships, get water from island, ja? If we meet ship, they will put you aboard and take you to South America, maybe. Maybe leave you on island to be rescued by French? These are possibilities, I think."


Later, she passed on all she'd learnt to her Father. He nodded and looked slyly at Hiram and Rufe.


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


Joanna had had little to do with boys during her schooling except in a strictly confined setting. At St Mary's Diocesan Residential High School they held four Balls a year to which boys from the nearby Catholic Boys Boarding School were invited. 


The Sisters and Brothers stalked the dance floor like a school of prowling sharks. If a couple seemed to be getting too close, they'd strike, separating the offending couple or insisting they return to opposite sides of the hall. There, they'd try and peek at one another through the crowds of dancers for the rest of the evening.


Despite the strictures, love did blossom, and many a couple went to extraordinary lengths to meet each other alone. For Joanna, though, no-one had caught her eye, or indeed, no boy had sought to slip her a single rose. No poem had been pressed into her palm by a giggling go-between.


She worked hard at her lessons, absorbing herself in Greek and Latin, the Classics. Her dream was of one day bonding in love and marriage, spiritually and with the blessing of the Church. The boy would have to be special and she was sure she'd know the instant they met.


Her body she would offer to her husband on their wedding night. It was a precious gift, she believed, for the sanctity of the marriage bed.


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


'Dear Diary. The German Captain, von Seydlitz, came to see us this afternoon and told us we were heading for the Marquesas in French Polynesia. He told us we'd be there within seven days.'


'We are now back under sail. The Germans have stopped the engines. I'm glad, because the noise and the vibration were starting to get us all down. The Germans let us all back on deck. Mother is looking much better now she has some fresh air. It's very hot as we're now well into the tropics. We women still haven't had a decent wash, although the Germans rigged a screen of sailcloth so Mother and I could at least sponge ourselves down. We took turns, with Mother standing guard for me like a Mother Superior.'


'All the Germans, though, are behaving themselves impeccably around us. Some of our guards are not very talkative and just scowl at us. Some, like Rupert, chat to me as best they can. Only the one they call Peters can speak English really well. Many of the others have some English but they're hard to understand. I can understand Rupert, though, even if he does get some of his sentences around the wrong way.'


'Rupert brought me some clean clothes to change into so we could launder ours. I had to wash Mother's, she's not used to doing laundry. The clothes he brought were one size to big and I feel like a clown at the circus. The linen shirt is rough on my skin and the short trousers baggy. They feel cool in the heat, however, much cooler than our own clothes. Instead of a bonnet, Rupert brought me a straw hat. Mother said I looked like a boy. I replied that at least I wouldn't have any of the crew bothering me in that case. She shut up, but had an evil look on her face.'


'Mother told me that Rupert was being too attentive. She said I musn't encourage him but Father said I should get as much out of him as I could. He insists that I tell him everything we talk about, no matter how trivial. He and Mother argue about it. She told him that he was whoring his own daughter. He was very angry about that and they didn't speak to each other for a whole day. Father whispered to me that I should get even friendlier with Rupert. I'm not sure what he expects me to do, let him kiss and touch me? I'm not sure I could go through with that.'


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


Von Seydlitz peered through the binoculars at the thin black streak on the horizon. Sea birds now squawked and swooped around the Seeteufel and schools of dolphins kept them company. He turned to Theo similarly occupied.


"There is a landing on the other side. Streams run from the top of the island but dry out quickly if there hasn't been any rain."


"Inhabitants?" asked the 2nd Officer.


"There are campsites. Locals from the bigger island to the Southwest, Eiao, collect eggs, shellfish etcetera. They stay for a week, perhaps, then return. There is not a big enough permanent source of fresh water for year round habitation."


"So, you think there's anyone there now?"


"Who knows? In any case, we are a Norwegian timber carrier stopping for fresh water and fruit."


"Should we go to the bigger island, perhaps? We might replenish completely?"


"Too dangerous! There's a French Resident with a radio. It's better if we have no contact at all with any of the locals. In the North anchorage we should be safe enough. The water is deep enough for us to anchor beneath the cliffs."


Forward, Joanna and Rupert stood together watching the tiny island draw closer. 


"What is it called," she asked the young German sailor.


"Hatutu," he replied, "is not very big... no peoples."


Two other crewmen yelled something at Rupert who turned away, red-faced with embarrassment.


"What did they say?" she asked him, curious.


"Is nothing," he shrugged. She pressed him, however, and he reluctantly told her that it was nothing he could tell a lady.


"Go on!" she urged, laughing, "I've heard worse things!"


"They say... things," he told her, plainly uncomfortable, "bad things about... you and me. I can't tell."


"What?" she continued, "give me a hint?"


After a long pause he said, "they say that you and I... that you and I should find someplace on island to... to..."


"Oh, I see," she replied. Now she shared his embarrassment and stood silently staring with him out to sea at the island. She felt a riot of emotions, it disturbed her. She was too aware of the young man standing beside her, aware that went beyond mere acquaintance or even companionship. She went and sat with her parents. When she looked at her hands they were trembling.


"What did he say to you?" her Mother asked, scowling at her daughter.


"Nothing, nothing at all," she replied, hastily.


"Maybe," her Father said quietly, "if they let us go to the island you could take him for a long walk?"


"Robert!" her Mother said, aghast.


"Hiram's going to make a run for it," he continued, "keep Boggles off our backs. Hiram's going to see if he can find a canoe or something. There's a bigger island nearby, he says, with a radio. He's knows these islands real well. Visited them a couple of times when he was in the Navy."


"Robert, you can't ask her to do that," her Mother complained.


"Margaret, we're at war with them ferchrissake! She'll be all right. That Boggles is besotted, he wouldn't do anything..."


"That's what I'm afraid of," his wife told him, "that German *has* a crush on her and for all we know our daughter has a crush on *him*."


"That right, Honey? You fancy that Kraut?" her Father asked.


"No," Joanna retorted, "of course not. How can you say those things? I'm not going to go walking with him. You can't ask me to do those things!"


"You'll do as your told!" her Father replied, "it's your Goddam duty as an American."


"It's not!" she cried, "I'm a civilian." She got up and ran crying to the rope barrier. Rupert hurried over, concern on his face.


"What's wrong?" he asked.


"Go away!" she yelled. Tears streaked her face. Rupert retreated, confused.


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


"We'll send each Watch over in turn," von Seydlitz told 2nd Officer Theo Seekt, "I want to be able to get underway immediately if we are discovered. Those on shore will have to wait behind until we can return for them."


"What about the prisoners?"


"Ah! We may leave them here, I haven't decided. If we do, we'll have to make sure they have enough water and food to last until they're rescued. In any case, send them ashore with the first Watch."


"Perhaps we should separate the women and men?"


"For why? Where are they going to run to? Set that young Heidelburg lad to watch over them."


"Unteroffizier Rupert Sachsenburger? Yes, I don't think he'll find the duty too onerous," Theo laughingly agreed.


"Yes, let the crew have some fun and relax."


The Seeteufel anchored close inshore and an armed party lowered a boat immediately and went ashore. There was a tense hour or so while they combed the island. Eventually, they signalled from the beach that the island was uninhabited. Upon hearing the news, the crew relaxed and the first men of Gold Watch began to go ashore for rest and recreation.


Lastly, Rupert announced to the prisoners that they were allowed to go ashore. Joanna was sullen as they rowed to the beach. She felt Rupert's eyes on her, still with the same confusion he'd displayed when she'd sent him away earlier.


A team was already carrying water casks back to the beach as the prisoners landed. They explained there was plenty of water not far inland. There was a pool, they said, where they could bathe.


Upon hearing this, Joanna perked up. It had been so long since she had a decent wash. Her Parents and the their American crewmen agreed to accompany her with Rupert tagging along as guard.


They trooped up into the dense bush, following the directions given by the water party. Eventually, they found it, a pool surrounded by ferns with the carved image of a Polynesian God watching over it. The men waited down the track to give the ladies some privacy. Rupert watched the little exchanges between the Americans, a wink, an inclination of the head, that put him on alert. He touched the pistol in his belt for comfort.


The cool water was envigorating. Joanna sat hunched under a trickling waterfall wearing just her cotton blouse. On the rocks she had a change of clothes, the shirt and trousers that Rupert had given her. Reluctantly, the women got out to allow the men to have a turn. Joanna dressed in her borrowed clothes and went back down the track to the men. Her Father, Hiram and Rufe trooped back up the track. Before he left, her Father said, "Say, why don't you take Boggles for a stroll, somewhere?" She scowled at her grinning Father. Rupert looked on, still confused.


"Joanna, you don't have to do this?" she told her daughter. She sat in silence, her emotions, again, running riot.


"What is wrong?" asked Rupert, concerned. Margaret Begg moved away, herself worried about the whole situation.


"Nothing!" Joanna mumbled.


"Is something I say?" he continued, "I sorry if I offend." Joanna shook her head. He reached into his pocket. He brought out a wooden object and gave it to her. "Here," he said, "is for you!"


It was a carved wooden clown with strings attached. The arms and legs were hinged, when Joanne pulled the strings the limbs moved. The clown's face had big eyes and a red smiling face. She began to cry.


"What is wrong?" he repeated, "I make mistake?"


"No!" she squeaked through her tears, "it's nice!"


"I make it," he continued, "for you."


Joanna collapsed in tears, burying her face in her hands. Rupert looked at her Mother, frightened. "I do nothing," he told her, "I swear!" Margaret shook her head slowly.


Joanna watched the trickle of water over the basalt rock as it made its way down to the sea. Gradually she made up her mind. She stared at the young German, looked into his wide innocent eyes. 'How can anyone be so stupid?' she thought. 'A blond, blue-eyed, devastatingly handsome, 21 year old Junior Officer, and as thick-headed as two short planks of cut timber!' "Come," she said to his sweet, guileless face, "come, let's go for a walk."


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


They picked their way slowly down the rough track to the beach. Some of the German crew were cavorting naked in the surf. Some appeared to be drinking. Rupert hurried Joanna down the beach and over a rock outcrop. Some of his comrades jeered, thankfully they were unintelligible to her.


They walked for kilometres around the small island. Each time Rupert suggested they stop, Joanna urged him to keep going. She wanted to put as much distance between the others as possible. Eventually they arrived at a cliff, it dropped precipitously to the sea below. Seabirds circled, Gannets and Albatrosses, shrieking against the intrusion. There was a rookery further along the cliff. Joanna didn't want to disturb the chicks so she suggested they stopped.


Joanna's legs throbbed with the effort. Rupert set himself against a rock and took in the cool breeze on his face. He smiled, then fished into his pocket and brought out a Meerschaum pipe. He fumbled with a tobacco pouch and pressed a plug into the pipe, lighting it with a brass Ronson. The blue smoke was carried instantly away in the sea breeze. He had a contented smile on his face.


Sitting beside him, she asked what he did before the war. It was the only question she could think of.


"Navy," he told her, "school, then Navy. I leave Gymnasium 1914. War declared, so I join Navy. My friends join Navy. I want to be with my friends. They send me to Cadet School in Kiel, make me an Officer. My Mother is Norwegian. I serve in Hochseeflotte... how you say, Battlefleet, ja? Am Unteroffizier, how you say in American Navy, 'Ensign,' ja? Am on Linienshiff Kaiserin when Von Seydlitz come and ask who speaks Norwegian. I know a few words from my Mother, so, he says, 'ok, you must come and serve on Seeteufel.' We train for long time to be like Norwegians. Von Seydlitz say we must think and act Norwegian at all times. We must fool English, he say."


Joanna smiled at his quaint use of English. She thought his way of speaking was cute, almost like a child's. "Why a sailing ship?" she asked.


"Is not something British think of. Wooden ship stupid for warship, ja? Wood catch fire, go boom!"


"Yes," she agreed, "if you get discovered your ship will be sunk."


"Ja, sunk! British sink us. You know?" he continued, "that Britisher, we have torpedos. We could sink British Kreuzer like that," he snapped his fingers.


"Why didn't you?"


"Ach, Kreuzer stopped in wrong place. Is bad luck."


"There were probably hundreds of men on that ship!" Her voice had more than a hint of reproach.


"Ja," Rupert agreed, "and 50 men on Seeteufel. Is war, ja?"


"Ja," she aped. He was right, of course, war is war. "Yes," she repeated, sadly, "that's true!"


As the sun began to dip, they decided to head back to the beach. Light was visibly fading when they returned. They both stared in horror at the wide blue bay. Right under the far cliffs, where the Seeteufel had anchored that morning, the sea ran unhindered onto the rocks. The ship had gone.


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


It had been noon when the Radioman ran up to the wheelhouse to find the Skipper. Von Seydlitz had found a deckchair and was peacefully dozing in it when the crewman stood over him.


"What's the matter?" he asked.


"Intercepted message, Sir, shall I read it?" The Skipper nodded. "SS Nantucket Respect to Papeete Radio. Position 9'31"S by 155'6"E..."


"That's close!" von Seydlitz remarked, "American?"


"Yes, a whale factory ship. She's on her way home from the Antarctic. Apparently she wants to coal at Tahiti."


"Does she now?" Von Seydlitz thought for a minute. "Theo!" he called, "get the crew back, we're going hunting."


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


"What are we to do? Where are my Parents?" Joanna cried, "they've left us here."


"I think that maybe they spot ship and go to investigate. Or maybe they run away?" he shrugged, "she will return for us, you'll see!"


"For you," she corrected, "they'll return for you. Remember they're going to leave we prisoners here to be rescued." Rupert nodded grudgingly, clearly unenthusiastic about the idea. Joanna thought of Hiram and wondered if he'd got away. Perhaps he was now paddling to that nearby island to summon help. "Do you suppose the French have a warship nearby?" she asked.


"I don't know," he shrugged, "is possible. French have base at Tahiti, is maybe 4 or 5 days away."


"And how long do you think the Seeteufel will be?" Again he shrugged.


"Depends."


Joanna wondered what to do. Should she pass on the news that Hiram may shortly alert the French that there was a German raider in the vicinity? Should she say nothing and maybe let the Seeteufel fall into a trap? Would the German ship return in any case? For all they knew it was now battling a French Squadron over the horizon somewhere. She thought suddenly that her Parents may be on board. On board a wooden warship in a seafight against modern guns. She shivered.


"You cold?" the ever-attentive Rupert asked. "Here," he said pulling a jacket out of his pack. Carefully he draped it over her shoulders. Delicately, he put his arm around her. Reluctantly she leaned against him as fatigue began to overcome her. They sat down against a boulder. Rupert pulled out some sandwichs and passed one to her. Together they ate in silence staring out at the empty sea.


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


On the other side of the island, Hiram collapsed in exhaustion. Half the day he'd searched for a canoe or something and had drawn a blank. He'd found the fishermen's camp, but there'd been slim pickings there.


The other island looked tantalisingly close, but he knew it was maybe four or five miles away across shark infested waters. At last he thought he'd make a fire on the beach. Hopefully someone may spot it and come to investigate. Dragging his tired body upright, he began to search for firewood.


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

"Radio?" von Seydlitz asked.


"Clear, sir," came the reply.


"Lookout?"


"Nothing, sir, all clear."


"Come about on her lee, Theo. Guns?"


"Loaded and ready, sir."


"Run up the flag, Theo. Unmask the guns!"


The walls of the 'timber deck cargo' collapsed outwards with a crash. The two 88mm guns swivelled rapidly around to point at the American ship. Above, the big German ensign was run quickly up the Mizzen to unfurl like a great sheet. Von Seydlitz's personal pennant broke out on top of the mainmast.


"Ahoy American vessel," Peters shouted, "hove to!" At first there was no response from the startled crew of the whaler. "Do not attempt to use your radio," Peters continued.


"Fire across their bows," the Skipper ordered. 'Crash,' the ship shuddered and heeled slightly with the recoil of the big gun. Brown smoke drifted behind them.


"Sir!" yelled the radioman, "they're sending!"


"Number two, fire!" von Seydlitz barked. This time the gun was aimed at a point behind the American vessel's bridge, where the radio shack was located. With brutal efficiency, the shell struck its mark, blowing pieces of timber and metal high into the sky. The American's crew could now be seen running around on deck waving and shouting. Several jumped into the sea. "That's got their attention!" The Captain said with satisfaction.


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


Hiram had a good pile of firewood on the beach. He went back into the dense undergrowth for one last piece he'd seen sticking out earlier. He siezed the wood in both hands and pulled. Reluctantly it slid a little way out from it's blanket of scrub. When he saw what he was holding, he fell back in laughter. It was the prow of a canoe.


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


On the other side of the island, Rupert and Joanna settled down amongst the dunes. Rupert had made a crude lean-to of woven palm leaves and this offered them a little shelter. He made a fire and they boiled water in an old tin they found discarded in the sands. Rupert had a little coffee and they drank it hot and black. She accepted his arm around her again and cuddled him to sleep.


KATZMAREK(c)