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Von Muecke was completely taken aback. "Mine—I?" he began.

"But certainly! There can be no mistake about it!" said the Englishman. " 'Helmuth von Muecke, first officer and executive of HIMS cruiser Emden and so on and so forth. I realize it is the equivalent of the V.C. among us. How about a Scotch and soda while your men work?"

"Scotch and soda?" Von Muecke was shocked. "Why not?" the Englishman was quite unconcerned. "Incidentally, the name is Farrant—Darcy Farrant—manager here."

Above them, on the hill, there was a heavy thud, and one of the wireless towers began to lean slowly at first, then more rapidly, until it crashed in a cloud of dust.

Von Muecke glanced at Farrant. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm afraid there's not time. My orders are to return to the ship as soon as possible. Will you show me the way? We may as well see how things are going."

"Oh, must we? I rather hoped we might visit a bit," said Farrant as if he were disappointed.

"Sorry!" replied von Muecke. To his own irritation, he found himself falling into the exact tone and manner of the Englishman. "I must be getting about my business."

Farrant turned and led the way up the hill. At a bend in the path von Muecke stopped and looked back. The Emden lay at the mouth of the anchorage. On the distant horizon the black smudge of a steamer's smoke showed. That would probably be the Buresk, he thought to himself. Inside the anchorage a small schooner lay at anchor.

"What's that?" he demanded.

"Oh, her?" Farrant laughed. "She's the Ayesha. Belongs to the station. She's supposed to give me a chance to visit the outer islands once in a while, but since there's no one on any of them I use her mostly for fishing. Jolly good fishing around here, y'know. All kinds of fish we can't get at home."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said von Muecke dryly.

"I'll bet you would!" The Englishman grinned.

As if in reply there came a sharp, peremptory blast from the Emden's siren. Von Muecke took a quick look at his watch and was astonished to see that it was already nine fifteen. No wonder Kapitan von Mueller was growing impatient. He hastened on to the ruins of the communications building, to find that Gyssling and his crew, according to orders, had joined Schmidt and his men in their task of cable demolition. They had succeeded in locating two of the major trunk lines—those from India and Australia—and had cut them. But the lines were thick—the size of a fat man's thigh —and armored, and tough, and they had not yet been able to remove the sections that would make repair most difficult. Moreover, there were still two other lines to be found: the line to Africa and the line to Malaya. As von Muecke plunged down the hill on the side where the men were working, the Emden's siren hooted again, urgently, insistently.

"Call the men together, Leutnant!" he commanded. "We'll have to reassemble at once at the boats."

Gvssling looked startled, disappointed. "But we're not done here, Herr Kapitanleutnant!"

"Sorry!" Von Muecke was grim. "We'll have to let it go. We're summoned to return immediately to the Emden. Tell Leutnant Schmidt to lose no time obeying."

"Jawohl, Herr Kapitanleutnant!" replied Gyssling.

But when he came back over the hill, it was clear to von Muecke that they were too late. Already the Emden was standing out to sea, leaving them behind. On the horizon the faint smudge had taken on a vague shape.

Even at that distance it was easy to see that it was not the Buresk.

After the departure of von Muecke and his shore party Karl von Mueller turned his attention to getting the Emden ready for coaling. Von Muecke and his men should be back on board by nine, while the Buresk should surely be there by ten. Coaling operations would take some time, even at best, and it would be wise, he felt, to have everything prepared beforehand, so that not a minute would be lost.

The fact that the Buresk had not responded to his wireless command to come in did not disturb him. It could be laid to any number of causes. The most likely was that the Buresk's transmitter was out of order. Such failure in merchant ships was notorious. Another possibility was that Klopper had overheard Direction Island's query: "What ship? What code?" and deemed it better to maintain silence. An even more remote possibility was that Klopper had overheard enemy vessels talking, out beyond Emden's range but within his own, and had kept silence for fear of revealing his own position and what was taking place.

On deck the work went as rapidly as von Mueller could wish. By the time the landing party had been gone an hour, the bunkers had been opened, the decks cleared. Buresk, of course, carried booms and slings to swing the cargo over. It was not yet 0900 when the bridge buzzer rang. Von Mueller himself answered.

"Bridge!" he said. "Kapitan von Mueller here."

"Foremast lookout, Herr Kapitan," came the response. "There is a smoke smudge on the northern horizon. Undoubtedly it is a ship, but whether approaching or not I cannot tell."'

"What does she look like?" von Mueller asked. "Can you make her out?"

"No, Herr Kapitan. She is still down under the horizon. I can see only her smoke."

"Very well," said von Mueller. "Keep your eyes on it and report to me as soon as you can make her out."

The foremast crow's nest was von Guerard's battle station. It would do no harm to have him on the alert. The Captain punched the button, summoning the Alsatian.

"Foremast reports a smudge to northward, Anton," he said when the lieutenant reported. "Get up there and keep an eye on it. We can't be too careful just now."

A few minutes later the foremast buzzer sounded again.

"Bridge!" said von Mueller.

"Vessel to northward, Herr Kapitan," came von Guerard's voice. "She is definitely heading this way. Probably the source of the smoke seen earlier."

"How do you make her?" von Mueller demanded.

"She's still a long way off, but she appears to have two masts and a single funnel."

"Only a single funnel—are you sure?" von Mueller persisted.

"It would seem so from here, Herr Kapitan."

"Mmm." said von Mueller. "That's probably the Buresk. She should be coming from that general direction. But thank you, Leutnant. Keep your watch on her, and report any changes to me." He turned to the signalman. "Run up your flags summoning the landing party to return immediately. They've had plenty of time to do their work, and now there's plenty of work to be done here."

"Jawohl, Kapitan!" the man said.

The flags ran up on the signal halyards, but there was no immediate response from shore. Knowing his executive officer, however, and being familiar with the man's thoroughness and strong sense of duty, Karl von Mueller was irritated, but not basically troubled. He had already seen the wireless towers go down. Possibly locating the point at which the cables came ashore and then cutting so as to make them difficult to repair was taking longer than anticipated. As their presence on board was not absolutely essential, von Mueller was willing to allow the land party some leeway.

What he did not realize, however, was that everyone who had gone on shore was so preoccupied that the recall signals aboard the Emden were not observed.

Work on deck in preparation for coaling seemed to be going along satisfactorily, and von Mueller was just preparing to leave the bridge for a breakfast of eggs, cheese, coffee, and Westphalian ham in his own cabin when the bridge buzzer sounded again, almost urgently. Impatiently he snatched at the communications telephone.

"Bridge!" he snapped. "Kapitan von Mueller."