When George saw what cargo he was to return, he threw up his hands in delight. "Captahie, Sahib!" he exclaimed. "Spender Sahib will be more than delighted. Indeed, Sahib if you will be here until morning, I will undertake to bring you two boatloads of our delicious lobsters—personally!"
Franz von Hohenzollern licked his lips and looked hopeful, but von Mueller smiled sorrowfully. "I am afraid that will be impossible, Herr George. I regret it deeply, for my fellow officers and I would welcome such a delicious change in diet, but we have completed our repairs and finished refueling and duty demands that we get to sea again at once. Please convey our regrets to the Governor along with our thanks for his already too-generous contributions."
They shook hands then, formally, all around, and George dropped back to the waiting launch.
Once he was gone the ladder was swayed in, and at a signal from von Mueller both anchors came dripping up from the clear depths of the bay. The engine-room telegraph clanged, and the screws began to turn. On board the launch, which still stood by, the natives waved farewell and George dipped the huge English Union Jack, Von Mueller pretended not to see, for after all, he could scarcely dip his own ensign to a known enemy. He did, however, bid them farewell with a series of sharp blasts of the ship's siren, and the Buresk followed suit.
An hour later the low profile of the island began to drop below the horizon as the two ships, following their regular pattern of deception, stood away to the northwest. Only when the island had disappeared from sight and they were alone on the open ocean did they alter their course and come around toward the northeast.
The Emden's first objective after the brief pause at Diego Garcia was the shipping lane between Australia and Aden, at the mouth of the Red Sea. Heavy traffic in both troop carriers and meat ships passed that way en route to Suez and Europe, and von Mueller hoped that they might be lucky enough to intercept some of it. But though they patrolled the track for several days, not so much as a smudge of smoke darkened the horizon.
Where are they? von Muecke wondered almost petulantly. "Do you believe they could have been warned in some way?"
Von Mueller shook his head. "How could they? We did not know ourselves that we would be coming here until we left the island. It seems to me more likely that we've moved in at a time of inactivity. These things often go in waves, you know, and just now their ships are probably all in port, loading. They may even be preparing to move in convoys, in which case we will have to develop new plans."
"I hope not," said von Muecke fervently. "The men are growing restless. They're anxious for action."
"It seems unlikely that they are going to find it here," said von Mueller. "And perhaps they're due for a change—something other than this miserable commerce raiding."
"You have something in mind?" von Muecke asked.
"How about Pulo Penang?" von Mueller said.
Von Muecke's eyes widened with excitement. "Penang!" he exclaimed. "That will be a harder nut to crack than Madras! And what about the French cruisers?"
"It should be harder than Madras," von Mueller agreed. "But because its defenders believe they are secure it may not be too hard to strike a swift, damaging blow and withdraw before they can recover. As for the Frenchmen, if they are still there they will be at anchor and scarcely expecting us. It will be worth the risk if we can sink one of them."
"Indeed it will!" Von Muecke's eyes shone. "Wait until the men hear of this!"
Von Mueller wagged his hand warningly. "Not yet, Helmuth. Wait until I give the word. In the meantime we will continue northward to Minicoy and the Aden-Colombo steamer track before turning eastward toward the Nicobars. That way we may pick up a few more prizes en route."
In accordance with this plan their course was altered to permit them to sail northward, up the western flank of the Maldives, where they could expect to encounter no other vessels, and where they would have an opportunity to replenish their bunkers. They had sufficient fuel to reach the Nicobar Islands, which lay between the western tip of Sumatra and the Andamans, but to attempt it might leave them dangerously low at the end of that voyage in the event they encountered enemy vessels.
As their luck had it, the very afternoon when they swung northward, out of the One and a Half Degree Channel, the blustering northeast monsoon came crashing down upon them, bringing with it heavy seas and stormy weather. In India, along the Western Ghats and down the Malabar Coast, that seasonal wind, which generally blows from October to March, is known as the "dry monsoon," since it carries with it little rain. At the southern end of the Maldives, however, it came down across the full sweep of the Bay of Bengal and the Laccadive Sea, and there was nothing dry about it. The rain fell in bucketlike torrents, much to their discomfort. Indeed, the only good thing about it was that it was entirely predictable. It started and stopped each day so precisely that it was almost possible to check the ship's chronometers against it.
Apart from the raw damp, which after so many days and nights of blistering tropical heat was almost welcome, the greatest drawback was the fact that it interfered with their coaling. It had been von Mueller's plan to refuel at sea, while they were slowly under way, as they had before. But under such conditions it was impossible to bring the Buresk alongside and make fast for the operation. Accordingly, it was necessary to slip in under Miladummadulu Atoll and pause briefly while it was done.
In the long run, perhaps, it was just as well, for had they been able to refuel at sea it had been von Mueller's intention to turn eastward and head directly for the Nicobars. While they were anchored under the atoll, however, they intercepted a message from an English vessel, eastbound from Aden, inquiring of Colombo as to the safety of the Red Sea-to-Ceylon sea lane. When Colombo answered in the affirmative, the Emden hastily completed her coaling and moved northward. By mid-evening they were in sight of Minicoy— a point which all ships to or from Suez and the Red Sea for Ceylon and Far Eastern ports must pass. Before midnight they intercepted their first prize: S/S Clan Grant, out of England for Colombo and East Indian ports, and laden with an especially valuable cargo so far as the Emden was concerned. On board were such much needed items as china and crockery, table linens, rypewriters in fantastic numbers, tools of all sorts, firebrick, urgently needed for the boilers, oil, great quantities of provisions, and live cattle to fill their needs for fresh meat for many a day to come, not to mention a considerable quantity of spirits, and perhaps most welcome of all, case after case of cigarettes. Had the British Admiralty loaded the ship especially for the Emden, they could scarcely have made a better selection.
Of course, the Clan Grant was ordered to follow the Emden, who quickly led them beyond range of possible observation from Minicoy.
As soon as it was daylight, crews were sent over from the cruiser to sort and separate for transshipment the various items of value for each department.
They were in the midst of this when another smoke was sighted to the southward, and without waiting for the return of the men still on board the Clan Grant, the Emden sped promptly in pursuit. Whatever the stranger might be, he was not so fast, and they overhauled him rapidly.
"Doesn't look like a merchantman to me," von Hohenzollern murmured.
"She sits low in the water,'* von Muecke conceded.
"She could be a monitor," said von Mueller. "If she is, she'll be heavily armored and will carry at least one heavy battery—probably heavier than anything of ours. You'd best call all hands to action stations, Leutnant."
When they finally overtook her, however, much to von Hohenzollern's chagrin, the suspicious-looking ship proved to be nothing more formidable than a deep-sea bucket dredger, the Fonrabbel, outbound from England for Tasmania; a mere cockleshell that sat low in the water, with only a scant three feet of freeboard and a badly frightened crew, who seemed only too pleased to be picked up.