"How can you say that?" Ragone demanded. "He made them prisoners to begin with, didn't he?" "Yes—but we are at war with England, and that was his duty, just as it is the duty of every English naval officer to capture any Germans he can. You are at war with neither of us, so you are at liberty to act as a go-between. In this case you would be helping these Englishmen by restoring them to their home."
"Bah!" the Italian retorted. "He has put himself in this situation. Now let him find his own way out."
The night darkened.
"You still do not see my point," Franz argued. "Consider: Suppose we were to turn these Englishmen adrift in open boats, as we could do. Suppose then that you were the first vessel to come upon them adrift. Would you stop and pick them up, or would you pass them by simply because they had had the misfortune to fall into our hands?"
"What do you think me?" Ragone bristled angrily. "A savage? I would pick them up, of course!"
"And convey them to the nearest port—without any thought of recompense?" Franz grinned.
"Naturally!"
"Then where is the difference?" von Hohenzollern demanded. "In this case you would be picking up these unfortunates exactly as if they were adrift, but without the inconvenience of the open boats. What's more, you would be furnished with all provisions necessary for their subsistence, and would receive payment for their passage."
Ragone opened his mouth to reply, then seemed all at once to comprehend. His mouth closed. His eyes narrowed "How much?" he demanded.
Von Hohenzollern thought swiftly. "We are not more than two days from Calcutta. It will cost you nothing in supplies, and with only a few exceptions your passengers will be earned on deck. I think Captain von Mueller would agree to ten Marks per day per passenger."
"|And how many 'are there?" Ragone demanded.
"About three hundred—more or less."
"I should be paid fifty Marks each for such a service." The Italian looked calculating.
"That's ridiculous!" Von Hohenzollern was shocked. "However, if those are your terms, I will report them to Captain von Mueller."
"He may take them or leave them!"
On the bridge of the Emden, von Mueller and von Muecke spelled out the message as it was blinked across to them. Von Muecke cursed. Von Mueller laughed, a short, sharp bark.
"Very well, Helmuth," von Mueller said drily. "You see how right I was? Our Italian friend has no intention of playing the good Samaritan! Thank him for his offer, but decline it. Say that I consider it dangerous and impractical to attempt to transship the prisoners in the night. Recall boarders and inform Loredano he may continue his voyage." Aboard the Italian vessel Franz von Hohenzollern translated the message as it flashed across. "There you are, Captain Ragone," he said. "That solves the problem to your satisfaction, I am sure. Now as soon as we have gone, you will be free to continue your voyage."
He saluted and slid quickly down the ladder to the main deck below. Ragone stared after him for a moment in incredulous surprise. Then with a sudden start he hurried down as quickly as his stubby legs would permit. The German marines were already dropping to the waiting boat overside.
"Momento, momento, signore! " he begged. "Please! Perhaps I spoke with too much haste! I will take them for forty Marks—thiny!"
Von Hohenzollern shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain—" he began.
"Twenty! I will accept your offer!"
"You heard the message," Franz reminded him. "Captain von Mueller has changed his mind. He does not wish to transfer the prisoners in the dark—and he has given us our orders. Good night, Captain Ragone."
Ragone looked baffled and angry. "So he has changed his mind? By what right? By what right, I ask you, does he delay my voyage? I will protest—"
"When you get ashore, Captain," von Hohenzollern said coldly, "you may protest all you like—to your own consul. In the meantime may I remind you of the international law that you are so fond of quoting? It is a breach of neutrality for any neutral to reveal to any belligerent the position of another belligerent. I trust you are prepared to observe this?" The Captain looked startled at von Hohenzollern's tone.
"t^^^l ^!h.^^'''^ "'^'■'"^ *^o">^ ^H be summoned back on board. Sinore, believe me!" he cried. "On my honor, I would not dream of such a thing!"
"On your honor?"
"On my honor, Sinore Tenente! My honor! My word!" "Bon voyage, then," replied von Hohenzollern. "And remember!"
"What was all that about?" Von Levetzow demanded.
Franz von Hohenzollern watched the lights of the Loredana recede as he explained.
"Believe what you like," said von Levetzow. "I don't trust him."
"No more do I," replied von Hohenzollern, "but he'll be well out of reach before he dares broadcast our position."
On board the Emden, Kapitan von Mueller made it clear that he shared their view. "He'll spread the alarm, no doubt about that," he said. "We'll stand to the south'rd so long as his lights are in sight, then come about and hang in his tracks. In that way we can intercept his signals and jam them if he attempts to broadcast our position."
"I don't think he'll try that, Kapitan," said von Hohenzollern, ''with regard for his own skin."
"You may be right, Franz," the Captain chuckled. "But this IS war and we cannot take a chance. He'll bear watching. Once he reaches Calcutta, there will be no doubt about his reporting us. These waters will be too hot to stay in."
Their precautions, however, proved unnecessary. Apparently von Hohenzollern's estimate of Captain Ragone was correct. The Emden's wireless operators stood by through the night, but no sound came from the Loredano.
The next day, the sea was calm, with long, gentle swells, and von Mueller went about the job of transferring the rest of the prisoners. Conrad Lauterbach was ferried across to the Kabinga in the launch together with Marine Oberzahlmeister Woychokowsky and Zahlmeister Applikant Bordeaux, the ship's clerk accountant, while the other boats headed for the Markomannia. As they climbed aboard, Lauterbach was agreeably surprised at his different reception. The child, Alfred, no longer howled at sight of him. The Captain's wife wished him good morning cheerfully, and offered a cup of tea.
Even Captain Robinson was almost affable. "I 'ope your skipper's 'ad no change of 'eart," he said anxiously as the Germans came on board.
"None," Lauterbach assured him. "The rest of the prisoners are to be shifted and some formalities attended. After that you'll be free to go on—or at least back—to Calcutta."
"Formalities?" Robinson raised his eyebrows.
"Nothing you'll find troublesome," Lauterbach assured him. "They'll take time, that's all."
And they did take time. Each prisoner—and that included all on board the Kabinga as well as those brought over from the Markomannia and the Emden —had to be certified a due prisoner of war. On such-and-such a date he had been captured. The name of his employer was given. Such were his wages. Such should he have received on completion of his voyage. All were acknowledged by the accounting team from the Emden, and an appropriate certificate was given back to cover his period of imprisonment and the wages due him for the time he was in captivity. If such time exceeded that for which he had signed articles, then the German Government bound itself, under international law, responsible. The same agreement bound the English and the French. Von Mueller had no reason to believe that it was not being as meticulously observed elsewhere.
The work of passing the prisoners across from the German ships to the Kabinga took longer than Lauterbach had anticipated. It was early afternoon before he was ready to go back to the Emden.