Nor was that all. During the day, the smoke and masts of several ships were sighted at the edge of the horizon. Since the vessels themselves were fortunately hull do^^^l, they did not sight the Emden, but there was no doubt that they were the formidable French fleet, led by the heavy armored cruisers Montcalm and Dupleix, with whom the Rjasan had been in wireless contact only a short time before her capture. Much as it went against the grain, von Mueller had no choice but quick and rapid retreat, circling east and south in order to give the enemy an opportunity to pass. During the night, the passengers aboard the Rjasan, a number of immensely stout Russian women, persisted in showing lights despite the strict blackout orders. Several times they were caught and ordered to stop. At last, in sheer desperation, Lauterbach had them locked in their cabins and all electric power to their quarters shut off. Even then they persisted in trying to frustrate him by lighting matches at their portholes, until at length he was obliged to order their port covers dogged down. After that, at least, there were no more lights.
For all that, their troubles were not yet over. Toward noon next day they encountered two large Japanese passenger ships, who dipped their colors in salute, but prudently made no effort to contact any enemy vessels. A little later still, they sighted the smoke of several other ships, which they avoided, for it seemed altogether probable that these were the British squadron from Weihaiwei.
So now the circle had come complete. The noose was tightening, and only the Japanese remained in doubt in these waters, and in point of fact, there was little doubt about them. When had they not been tied to Britain's apron strings, they had had a jealous eye for Tsingtao and would be unlikely to pass up any opportunity to pounce upon it. China, of course, counted for virtually nothing as far as the Germans were concerned. All her ports and major cities were controlled by the British, and the vessels of other nations were admitted only on a sort of sufferance. There was little doubt what sort of welcome the Emden would receive should she find it necessary to take refuge there. Not that Karl von Mueller intended trying any such thing, but it would have been comforting to know that there was at least one haven in which they might find shelter for a few hours. As mauers stood, even the neutral Dutch islands lay far to the south. However, there was no despondency aboard the lonely little cruiser as she and her prisoner slipped along within sight of the wild, rocky China coast. The night fell, and they shaped their course in the general direction of the Cha-lien-tao light at the vert tip of the Tsingrao peninsula. It was clear, though moonless, with just enough light coming from the stars to enable them to make out the black bulk of their captive and mark her phosphorescent wake. Every man aboard had complete confidence in the skill and judgment of Kapitanleutnant Heinrich Gropius, the chief navigator, and even if they had not, a rank amateur could have conned her on such a night. They laid their course by the stars, since even the glow of the binnacle was risky, and set their pace to bring up the Laoshan Mountains with the dawn.
Through the dark they churned steadily, and the watch below took to their hammocks with full assurance that by morning they would be back in port. Gradually the little nocturnal noises of the ship settled to the steady rhythmic hum of the engines. Kapitanleutnant Dirk Gaede relieved the bridge promptly at eight bells—midnight, and though his battle station was that of gunnery officer, everyone knew that he was just as capable as "Heinie" Gropius as a navigator. Vizesteuermann Aleyer, the quartermaster's mate, himself had the wheel, and it was told of him that he could sail through the Suez Canal on a stormy night with his eyes closed and not peel the paint off a buoy on the way. Marine Oberingenieur Ellenbroek, the chief engineer, was on duty in the engine room, and all the Schiffsvolk, including Captain von Mueller, fell asleep without a shade of worry.
Their full confidence appeared to be entirely justified—at least until shortly after six bells of the midwatch, when all at once the wheelhouse buzzer sang out like an angry wasp. Gaede, who had been leaning on the wheelhouse window ledge, scanning the dark waters ahead and sniffing the strengthening smell of China, somewhere not too many miles to starboard, jumped and picked up the tube.
"Bridge!" he said sharply, but at the same time keeping his voice low, for there are times when voices carry amazingly over water.
"Herr Kapitanleutnant," came the tinny voice over the wire "here is Feldspringer at foremast lookout. I have just viewed four bright lights running one and a half to tu-o points off the port bow between seven and nine miles distant. They are moving in the same direction as ourselves."
"Can you see what they are?" Gaede asked.
"No, Herr Kapitanleutnant They are still too far away."
"Thank you, Feldspringer," said Gaede curtly. "Keep your eye on them and report to me the moment you can make them out."
He hung up the receiver and turned away toward the row of bells that would alert all on board. He hated to do it. The Captain, the men below, had worked hard all day. The ships could be mere coasters. But they might also be British, French, or even Russian warships. The time it took him to satisfy his own curiosity might be just the interval needed for a stronger foe to become aware of their presence, and if It came to that the presence of the Rjasan would be no help!
Reluctantly he began to punch the buzzer buttons.
Karl von Mueller had ordered all bells muffled, long before, removing the big brass semi-circles and replacing them with wooden boxes that rattled like the warning throb of a rattlesnake's tail. The urgent sound would bring a sleeping man sitting up in an instant, but it did not carry over water like the shrill voice of a bell.
His judgment proved sound. The buzzing of the summons seemed faint, even to Gaede on the bridge. But the interval between the warning and the slip-slap of the men's feet hurrying to their stations on deck was no more than a matter of seconds. It seemed to him that he had scarcely lifted his finger from the signal before von Mueller's voice sounded softly at his elbow.
"What's up, Dirk?"
As it happened, the vessels ahead proved to be only four large junks coasting southward toward Shanghai. Dirk Gaede felt miserably embarrassed, but Karl von Mueller cut short Dirk's apologies. "Stop it, Herr Gaede! You did exactly the right thing, and I would have been more than angry if you had not. Those junks might have been enemy warships. If they had been and you had hesitated to sound the alarm out of a regard for our rest, we might all now be resting at the bottom of the sea. I commend you, sir! I find no fault with your judgment, and damn it, I'll ask you not to find fault with it, either."
They raised the mouth of the harbor and the masts of the pilot boat, outside the mine field, almost exactly at daybreak. They picked their way carefully through the tortuous channel and into the mine-free waters of the bay. Inside they were met by the very trim and very white, but very fussily efficient, government launch. As the boat bustled up, carrying a huge Imperial ensign, nearly as big as herself, the Emden hove to and an accommodation ladder was let down. A moment later a smart young military aide to the Governor came bounding. Meticulously he saluted the quarter-deck first before addressing the officer of the watch.
"I have dispatches for Kapitan von Mueller," he announced.
"The Captain is in his quarters, Leutnant," replied von Gropius. "The messenger will show you the way."
As soon as they were gone, Gropius turned to the ship's telephone and reported the visitor's approach to Captain von Mueller.
"Thank you, Gropius," came die reply. "I have been expecting him."