Von Mueller frowned, "Why, that sounds like the Yarmouth] Isn't that the way she's described in the recognition books?"
"Exactly!" said von Muecke. "And isn't the Yarmouth one of the ships that is supposed to be on the lookout for us? If we had her wireless call letters and code, we would be better off. But since we lack them, at least her appearance could gain us some advantage. It would be a little while before we could be positively identified."
The Captain chuckled. "You're right, Helmuth," he admitted. "Sooner or later they would see through the disguise. But while they were scratching their heads and wondering, we might be gaining an advantage, eh?"
"So!" replied von Muecke.
"So, what are we waiting for?" von Mueller demanded.
All that day as they slid across the glassy waters of the Banda Sea, in near hundred-degree heat, the carpenters and riggers and crew, stripped to their trunks, worked to fabricate a false funnel of canvas and barrel hoops, and a false shed of gray-painted plywood that when quickly unfolded and set in place, filled the gap between the conning tower and the wireless shack, giving an unbroken appearance to the cruiser's superstructure. To confuse the picture even more, a false bow was made of gray-painted canvas, two-by-fours, and lath so that from a distance her prow would seem a graceful, yachtlike stem, while a false bustle was added to her sheer stem. All the devices were so rigged and constructed that they could be raised or stowed away, out of sight, at will, quite independently of the others, giving the Emden a choice of several different disguises.
For the moment, however, there was little need to use them. They cut across the pass between the islands of Timor and Leti, hoping for a second rendezvous with the Tannenberg. But the collier did not appear there, either, and they were forced once again to refuel from the Markomannia. Beginning in the dark, steamy hours before dawn, they set to work, and to some extent made a game of it, vying for a prize of six cases of beer for the watch that loaded the most coal during their stay. Under the blasting heat the work was bitter and strenuous, and more than one man, accustomed to deck rather than stokehold duty, collapsed and had to be carried off to the sick bay to be revived by the Stabsarzt, Doktor Luther, and then returned to duty. But at least the ship was fueled for a time. The omnivorous fires could be fed for a little while and deck divisions returned to their regular duty— which never before had seemed like such hammock work!
"Do you always stand this heat below deck?" said Franz von Hohenzollern to Ingenieur Haas.
Haas lauded at him. "It's comfortable, Franz. In winter we are warm. In summer it is cool. Come look at the gauges if you don't believe me. The temperature below is less than what you have on deck most of the time, and when we come up for a breath of fresh air we catch cold!"
"Schrumm!" snorted von Hohenzollern, "I'm glad I did not choose engineering duty! Hot or not, I like air."
That was the general color of their progress south and west, under the Indonesian archipelago. From Leti they bore west, under the smoking mountains of Timor, pausing at intervals, when the occasion offered, to take aboard green hay for the Markomannia's cow and chickens and hutch of rabbits.
It was von Hohenzollern who remarked sourly that "the damned beasts, with nothing better to do, eat better than the officers! Frankly, I could use a little green salad. I'm getting bloody well fed up with canned corned beef and rice, strawberry jam and caviar!"
"This from you, Franz?" von Muecke laughed. "I thought you loved caviar."
"I do, but not for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!" said von Hohenzollern. "Enough for any man. I begin to feel like a virgin sturgeon approaching the mating season!"
"I know what you mean," replied von Muecke wryly. "But you must remember that the men need the milk, the eggs, and the fresh meat more than we do. We must see that they have them, at least insofar as we are able."
"I suppose you're right," Franz sighed wistfully. "But that does not mean that we must like it. Perhaps one of these days we will touch in at Batavia, or some other neutral port, just long enough to go ashore for a decent meal!"
In the galley Herman would have been heartbroken to hear him. Considering the skimpiness of the current sources, it seemed to the cook that he had worked magic with a few sacks of rice, some cases of canned corned beef, a dozen boxes of jam, and an abundance of caviar, chutney, pickles, and olives. But even he dreamed at night of succulent roasts and fresh vegetables, steaming in their own juices, of delicious soups, and hot breads soaked in fine fresh butter, oysters on the half shell and fish from cool waters, ices, sherbets, jellied soups!
Still, this was war and they all had to remind themselves that frugality was in order. The news reaching them by wireless—mostly from Batavia now, or Singapore—was cheering so far as the war in Europe was concerned. Their armies were within a few miles of Paris and driving steadily forward, both toward the south and toward the English Channel. A number of major British warships had been reported sunk—by mines, torpedo boats, and by a new menace—submarines—while on the east the Russian drive had at least been checked. But even if quick victory blessed them, it would be weeks—even months—before they themselves' would be able to cease operations; and the word from Tsing-tao, coming less frequently now, was disturbing. The Japanese were preparing an all-out assault on the city and Tsingtao was girding itself. Friends, wives, children, and sweethearts were still there, and even if no harm came to them from such a siege there could be no question of the ultimate outcome. The garrison would give a good account of itself, but in the end the city would fall. When that happened, the crew of the Emden would be left homeless, adrift on an empty sea.
Still, there was no good in worrying about that. To a man they had accepted that possibility when they volunteered. There was not a forced hand among them, and each in his own way recognized that Destiny must claim her own.
At Tana Jampea they hoped to coal again. But as they steamed into the sultry roadstead at dawn, instead of the looked-for collier an unmistakable man-of-war came slowly out to meet them with battle flags flying.
In the gray of the morning it was impossible to make out either her signals or her flag, and Leutnant Voss, who had the bridge, hit the battle bell, once more summoning the crew to action stations. The two ships approached warily, and were within a mile and a half of each other before recognition came. Guns were loaded and fingers poised over the firing buttons when the signal to secure all hands came down from the conning tower.
The stranger proved to be the heavy Dutch battle cruiser Tromp, who informed them politely but firmly that their visit was unwelcome and their stay in neutral waters limited to twenty-four hours. Since the Emden carried only 4.5-inch guns to oppose Tromp's 9.6's it seemed only wise to accept the hint, especially since they were not at war. The Dutchmen were not actually hostile. But they were stubbornly insistent on their rights as neutrals, and only small nations standing between larger combatants can be. Von Mueller respected their position, and they exchanged beer and news. The former, at least, was good. The latter was that Portugal was now also to be counted among the Emden's enemies. Her crew chuckled when they heard this, for they had a low opinion of Portuguese naval strength. Nevertheless, it meant that the ports on the islands of Timor and Flores, which they had hoped to use, were closed to them.
Tromp escorted them out of Dutch territorial waters and saw them on their way. Von Mueller was wily enough to head nearly due south, as if he intended to raid the coast of Australia. Only after they were well out of sight did he turn west once more. They cruised, with the mountains of Java and Sumatra hanging like low cloud shapes against the distant northern horizon, without once meeting a hostile ship.