The Governor himself, Johannes Baron von Meyer-Waldeck, was last in line. An excellent civil servant who ruled his important outpost of Imperial colonialism with true German efficiency, today he seemed disturbed—even distraught.
"Karl!" he cried with almost obvious relief, brushing aside von Mueller's carefully planned little speech of congratulation as if he had not heard it. "Ach! Karl! I am glad to see you!"
"Why? What's wrong, Johannes?" They were on first-name terms.
"Everything! Everything, Karl!" The Baron Governor shook his head dramatically. "Just before the wedding, dispatches came from Berlin—but no doubt you got them, too, on board the Emden. They contained orders for you."
"They had not come when I left the ship," von Mueller replied blankly. "What—"
"I had not the heart to say anything before," the Governor interrupted him. "Even now—But here is not the place to go into it. We are holding up everything. Go along and have a drink. When I am done here and can slip away, I will find you and we can go then to my study and decide what we must all do."
"Is it that bad?" von Mueller asked.
"It is very bad, Karl," said the Governor. "Just how bad, I cannot yet be sure, but I fear it is the worst you or I have ever seen."
Von Mueller nodded toward the tables. "I'll be over there when you need me," he said.
"I'll come as soon as I can!"
"What was that about?" von Muecke demanded. He was looking about for the English girl, as they crossed the floor in the direction of the refreshment tables.
"I'm not sure," the Captain replied, "But whatever it may be, it is not good."
"War, do you think?" von Muecke persisted.
Von Mueller shook his head. "Hardly yet—for us," he replied. "But at the least mobilization, and probably all that such a move implies."
"The handwriting on the wall, perhaps?" von Muecke suggested.
"I hate to be the skeleton at the feast," said von Mueller, "but that would be my guess."
They accepted a glass of Bombay punch at the bar table and moved on from there to the cold collation being served just beyond for a selection of appetizers. To von Mueller's pleased surprise, their own officers' cook, stout Herman Schultz, in an immaculate white apron and tall chef's cap, presided there.
"Well, Herman, you do seem to get around!" he exclaimed.
"Ja, Herr Kapitan!" Herman's ruddy face beamed proudly. "The Herr Governor himself begged me that this and the banquet later we do for him, and Leutnant von Hohenzollern gave his approval. For such an occasion could I refuse yet?"
"Hardly!" the Captain assured him. "And may I add my own blessing to the idea. Now we know for sure that we will be in the best of hands."
"Danke, Kapitan!" The chef's smile grew even broader. "Of that you may sure be! Right now, in the kitchen, Hilde, meine Frau, overseeing is, and a better cook than I am she is. You will see!"
"She will have to work hard to prove that," von Mueller laughed.
"Ach, she will! She will!" replied Herman, suddenly earnest. "Just you watch, Herr Kapitan!"
"I look forward to a treat, then, Herman," said the Captain.
Behind him he heard von Muecke's voice, somehow clipped and restrained: "Conrad!—Herr Kapitan Lauterbach —Caroline!" punctuated by the formal click of his heels.
Von Mueller swung about quickly, impelled by some strange note in his junior's tone, and at once sensed a situation in the making. The young woman, Caroline Grey, was pretty beyond question, even prettier on close examination than she had appeared from a distance; certainly a point that was distinctly in her favor, since it is a rare quality'. At the same time, Conrad Lauterbach was suave and urbane as ever. But despite his complaisance Kapitan von Mueller was conscious of a certain unwonted tension about the man, and from the way his glance flicked from his companion to von Muecke and back again there was little need to speculate why. Clearly the girl was more than a mere passing acquaintance. On the other hand, whatever her relationship to Lauterbach, she was now smiling at von Muecke with frank, almost outspoken interest. As for von Muecke himself, Karl von Mueller need scarcely have sailed for several years with his executive and first officer not to be certain that the rumors that had been circulating the ship for the last month were blatantly true.
Under ordinary circumstances the situation might have been rather amusing; a source of jest and teasing. No lovely woman yet was born but had more than one admirer, and the question of which might be the best was one to be settled among themselves. But as matters stood, it was no laughing matter.
To begin with, they were poised at the brink of a dangerous situation. If the Governor's hint meant anything, it was more than likely that the next few hours would find them under orders for full mobilization. Whether or not it would yet come to war would still be a question. But as a reservist Lauterbach would be called to duty on board the Emden. If these two were to be rivals—even comparatively friendly rivals—for the same woman, the situation would scarcely be the easiest imaginable in the wardroom. At the same time, there was an international complication. The girl was English. As the currents presently ran, any future explosion would mean that Germany would support Austria against Russia and her allies, France and Great Britain. What a tragedy for one or both to find themselves abruptly in love with an enemy. How would they react? Which way would their sympathies turn? What would a commanding officer do in their case, knowing their attachment, understanding their dilemma?
It was scarcely an enviable position for him—or for them. But he reminded himself that such a state of affairs had not yet come about. He was a man who believed in meeting problems as one came to them, not in anticipating them. Just now, it seemed to him, the problem was one of smoothing over the moment. Troubled waters called for oil, and it was his duty to apply it. He stepped forward with outstretched hand.
"Conrad!" he exclaimed. "I didn't realize you were there. I'm delighted to see you and—er—" He glanced toward the Englishwoman.
"Forgive me, Karl!" said Lauterbach quickly. "Caroline, this is Kapitan von Mueller, commanding His Imperial Majesty's light cruiser Emden —our senior officer present at Tsingtao just now. Karl, may I present Miss Caroline Grey, one of my passengers on our last voyage out?"
"Miss Grey!" von Mueller responded, clicking his heels and bowing formally—more than a nod; less than an obeisance. "Welcome to our little world! We are honored, indeed, to be hosts to such beauty. Be assured we will do all we can to deserve it!" He felt silly saying it, but he had been carefully trained, and he noticed that she did not seem insulted.
"Kapitan von Mueller!" she replied, offering her hand.
Von Muecke, who had been hovering impatiently during the introduction, now reached out and touched Caroline's arm, but before he could speak the Captain said, "Miss Grey, forgive me. Do you mind if I have a word with Kapitan Lauterbach? We will leave you in good company."
The exec didn't hesitate, but nodding gently, turned to Caroline. They moved slowly toward the refreshment table.
Lauterbach stared after them moodily. "Now, see here, Karl!" he protested. "This is a serious situation. That girl—"
"Yes, yes! I understand, Conrad," von Mueller replied. "But so is war a serious situation. Just now I am afraid that we are all faced with a 'serious situation.' One that may well involve you, and one that might seriously affect her."
The merchantman stared at him in astonishment. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded.