Chapter 1

'Tickety tick, tick, tick, tick.' The Morse stream from the earphone was barely audible. The two men leaned closer to the radio set, frowns on their faces.

"What do you make of it?" asked the taller of the men to the harried Radioman.

"The hand's not experienced, like amateur," he replied in halting Norwegian. "The signal's faint... I think running low on battery power, maybe?"

"Where are they?" asked the bearded, stooping, older man.

"I think no more than 12 kilometres to the Northeast of us. Drifting, they say... engine stopped."

"Identification?"

"MV Senator, is American... Private yacht," the radioman explained, "200 registered tonnage."

"That's big for a yacht!" remarked the tall man.

"Sir," the third man spoke, drawing the other man aside, "perhaps we should ignore it? It could be a ruse?"

"Possibly," the tall man considered, "but I think she's too near American territorial waters for a trick. I think we should check it out. Perhaps they might have information, newspapers. I think it's worth the risk."

"Should we start the motors?"

"No, under canvas. There's a good breeze so why should we waste fuel? Lay in a course."

"Yes, Skipper." Their boots rang on the metal of the ladder as they went back topside. The sky was clear and blue, the warm wind filled the billowing sails and sang through the rigging. Underneath, the ship creaked in the fashion of all wooden sailing ships. The white hull gleamed in the strong sunlight like some picture postcard.

The skipper squinted at the top of the mainmast and observed the triangular red flag and blue cross of Norway's Merchant Marine. He took one long look along the deck. Everything seemed innocuous; the stacks of timber deck-cargo fore and aft, the crew casually dressed in striped shirts and Bermuda shorts. Some had tied the flaps of their trousers tight with cord. Many had bare feet, the better for climbing the rigging. Beards were 'de rigeur' among the crew. Straw boaters or woollen fisherman's hats the preferred headwear.

The ship lurched under the helm as she swung onto the new bearing. Crew vigourously wound the sheets of the square-rigged foremast tighter. The Skipper instinctively watched the big boom of the mainsail as it was adjusted to the wind. Many an inexperienced crewman had been knocked off their feet, or even worse, by the metal-banded, foot thick length of wood.

"Olaf!" yelled the Skipper, "get up top and see what you can see!"

"Aye, Sir," answered a seaman.

The SV Stavanger's Second Officer came back forward, having given the sailing instructions to the helm.

"What do we do with them?" he asked.

"Whatever's practical," shrugged the Skipper, "if they have engine failure, maybe the Engineer can get it going for them."

"Won't they be suspicious of an Engineer on a sailing ship?"

"It's not uncommon for vessels of our type to have an auxiliary motor, Theo. Stay relaxed, they won't suspect anything."

"If you think so," muttered the 2nd Officer.

Eventually, from atop the mainmast, the lookout bellowed, "mast top, off starboard bow!"

"Bear on it," ordered the Skipper, "nice navigation, Theo!"

"Thank you, Sir."

"Oh, don't be so formal!"

Gradually the vessel revealed itself over the curvature of the Earth. First, its single mast, then its black hull. It was rolling heavily in the freshening swell. Plainly it was adrift in the current, being carried slowly down to the Baja Californian coast.

Pointlessly, the yacht fired a distress flare. The Stavanger's crew watched it hang in the sky before slowly plummeting to the sea. The big Schooner, at nearly 1800 tons, was considerably larger than the American Yacht. It had to maneuvre carefully to avoid swamping or even striking the smaller craft. The Stavanger's crew, however, were skilled, and the Schooner came to a stop off the Yacht's lee. The squaresails were backed, the fore and aft, triangular mainsail dropped.

Five figures on the deck of the American waved enthusiastically at the Stavanger. A man called out to them in English.

"Get Peters," ordered the Stavanger's Skipper. He closely observed the other vessel with his binoculars and waited for the English speaker to arrive. The crewman hurried to the Skipper's side. "Ask them what's the trouble."

He waited patiently while an unintellible exchange continued with the foreign crew of the American. Eventually, Peters turned to his Captain and translated the Yacht's requests.

"Sir," said Peters, "they say their motor has broken down and they're taking water. It's up to two feet in their bilges, sir. Their battery power is low, their radio's failing and they're low on fresh water and food."

"Their bilge pump?"

"Runs off engine power, sir."

"That's stupid! Haven't they hand pumps?"

"Yes, but they say the water's gaining on them. They're exhausted and fear the boat will founder in a matter of hours."

"Sir," cried the Second Officer in alarm, "we can't have them on board!"

"Are you saying we should let them drown? Are we barbarians?" the Skipper snapped back, "no. We'll see what we can do over there and, if we can't get their motor going, we will have to rescue them."

The Skipper decided to check on the vessel personally and had himself and his translator, Peters, rowed over in the little skiff. He legged himself over the side as one long-experienced at sea and stood on the teak deck of the American.

He saw it was a well-built vessel, the main saloon was built with fine mahogany and the whole displayed excellent workmanship. If the crew was correct, there was no saving the ship and he thought it a pity.

And his experience told him it was true, the ship was doomed. It lifted reluctantly in the swell, he could feel the heavy, wallowing motion of the roll, evidence there were tons of seawater down below. He had to check, though, and confirmed that the engine compartment was partly flooded. His Engineer wouldn't be able to get the pumps working.

There were five people on the Yacht, three men and two women. Two of the men appeared to be the crew. The other man and the women appeared to be a family; man, wife and daughter. Through Peters, he introduced himself.

"I am Lars Gundersson, Master of the SV Stavanger, this is Ivar Peters. We are Norwegian."

"American, sir," said the older man, "Robert Begg, my wife Margaret and daughter Joanna. These two are my crew," he indicated the other men, "Hiram and Rufe. I thank you for coming."

"I see your ship will sink shortly. I'm sorry, but I fear you will have to accompany us on board my vessel."

The Americans looked exhausted and hungry. Clearly they'd experienced an unpleasant couple of days on board the wallowing vessel. Particularly the women, seemed overjoyed to be getting off the thing. Lars watched them being rowed over to the Stavanger two at a time. He sent Peters back with the last crewman then went down to the saloon for a look around.

Robert Begg had taken all the ship's papers and log, however, scattered about were other things of interest. When the skiff returned he had a box of stuff waiting.

"Where are the Americans?" he asked the crewman.

"We took them down to the mess, Skipper, they were very hungry."

"Good. Come with me, let's have another look around."

In the cabins there was a scattering of personal items. They put some of these in a sack to take back for the Americans. However, in the main cabin he found what he was looking for, a newspaper.

"Schopf, do you see this?" the Skipper said, holding up a copy of the 'San Diego Chronicle, ' "is this what I think it is?"

"Sir!" said the crewman in shock, "America has declared war!"

Immediately upon returning to the Stavanger, the Skipper called for the Senior Officers to attend a meeting in his cabin. Five of them trooped in, the Engineer, 2nd Officer, 3rd Officer, Navigator and Sailing Master. He had them all sit down in the small cabin, on whatever they could find to sit on.

"Gentleman," he started, "the situation has changed. The Americans have declared war on Germany."

There were general exclamations of shock and surprise. This had not entered their calculations. Obviously, some kind of plan of action had to be worked out.

"Any suggestions?" asked the Skipper.

"American harbours are obviously out," Theo said.

"We will need to replenish supplies before the end of the month," commented the 3rd Officer, Erik Thorvald.

"Perhaps a supply ship got out before the declaration?" suggested the Engineer, "we should sail to the grid reference just in case."

"What if they were interned?" said Theo, "how long should we wait for it out there. We will run out of fresh water before..."

"South America, we should go to a South American port for supplies. That would be the safest option," suggested the Engineer.

"But we'll be inspected by their Customs," protested the 2nd Officer, "they're sure to discover..."

"Yes," the Skipper agreed, "they'll discover that we're not what we seem. We'll have to take what we need, from prizes."

"This must include American ships from now on," the Engineer said.

"Yes, you're correct, Engineer. In the absence of official notification I think we can assume that American vessels are now fair game."

"What about our Guests, Skipper, are we going to tell them?" Theo asked.

"I will," he said. Standing up, he kicked the panel under his bed. It flicked open and he reached in and retrieved a uniform jacket and cap. Donning these, he left the cabin and went down the passageway to the mess. Entering, he stood stiffly at attention before the startled Americans. He spied Peters acting as host to the famished crew of the Yacht.

"Peters," he said, "you will translate, please. Ladies and Gentlemen," he announced, "welcome to Seine Majestat's Schiffe 'Seeteufel'. We are a ship of war of the German Kaiser." The Americans looked at Lars Gundersson, their mouths hanging open in shock. "My name is Kapitan zur See Count von Seydlitz. I regret the deception." With that, he spun on his heels and left them to absorb the news.

Joanna Begg sat with her back against the foreward capstan, writing. There was nothing much alse to do on the Seeteufel except grumble. That task was being ably accomplished by her Mother and Father and their two crewmen. She decided to keep a record of their capitivity, she was tired of listening to the others' complaints.

At first, her Father couldn't believe that the Germans would use a windjammer as a warship. He didn't know for what purpose such a vessel could be employed. He could only think of landing spies and saboteurs somewhere down the American coast. Joanna overheard the others talking last night. They were thinking of ways they could alert a passing ship.

Her Mother said that they should think of the ladies. That if they antagonised the Germans then they might harm the women. She thought it best to go along with everything they said and perhaps they'd put them on a passing ship or on Hawaii.

"You seriously think," her Father had said, "that the Krauts are going to put us ashore on American territory? They're in disguise, for Christ's sake. They ain't going to let us go to spill the beans."

Her Mother had complained about him blaspheming. Her Father had told her that that was the least of their worries. It ended in an argument and Hiram and Rufe came and sat with Joanna.

'Dear diary, ' she began, 'what I hate worst is the smell. The men can go topside and wash. The Germans rig a shower in the rigging and all the men get naked and stand under it in turns. We women have to wait down below.'

'After a day on the Seeteufel, the Germans let us up on deck for a few hours during daytime. A crewman stands guard by us at all times armed with a pistol in his belt. Daddy has funny nicknames for each of them.'

'We are only allowed between the bows and the foremast. The Germans put up a rope across the deck to stop us going aft. They are very serious about it as Daddy found out.'

'Yesterday he walked aft to the rope and put his leg over. The guard went bezerk at him and pointed his pistol. Daddy told us there was something strange about the deck cargo. He said he spotted a shiney piece of metal on it and went to have a look. He said he thought it was part of a hinge. What do you suppose they'd have a hinge on a stack of timber for? He asked us. I don't know, Daddy's the builder, I don't know about such things.'

Joanna looked up as they relieved the guard. It was the guy her Father called 'boggles.' He always had his head in a book.

'Boggles' knew some English. Joanna thought he understood more words than he could speak. Her Father had urged her to talk to him, to find out anything she could. Her Mother disapproved, but then she always disapproved of everything she did.

"What are you reading?" Joanna asked him as clearly as she could.

"Gesichte... ah... History, Yes?" he answered.

"What is your name?"

"Rupert, as in Prinz Rupert von der Rhein, yes?"

"Who?"

"Is big leader in English Civil War, he capture Bristol for English King. He came from Heidelburg, same as me."

"You were named after him?"

"Prinz Rupert, ja!" he beamed in pleasure.

Later, when she told her Father all that she'd discovered, he shrugged his shoulders.

"So, I'm the Goddam Queen of Sheba!" he told her, "ask him where the Hell we're going, ferchrissake!"

The Beggs had left San Diego 10 days ago for a cruise among the Channel Islands before heading down to Tijuana. A self-made millionaire, Robert Begg had made a fortune constructing low-cost housing until he now ran one of the biggest construction companies on the West Coast.

The price of all this wealth had been heavy. He barely knew his daughter, his family was all but alienated from him, as he worked more than 12 hours a day building up the company. He'd decided to buy the MV Senator, go for cruises with his wife and daughter and recapture some sort of family life.

However, a sudden squall off San Diego had sprung some timbers on the Yacht and water had contaminated the Diesel oil. They'd been drifting for three days before being rescued by the Seeteufel.

Von Sedlitz/Gunderson watched Olaf swinging from high in the rigging of the mainmast. The man was like a monkey with the eyes of an eagle, he thought. He held onto the ratline with one hand while pressing his binoculars to his face. Apparently satisfied with his observation, he let go of the binoculars to let them dangle from his neck, then slid down the rope to the maindeck.

"Sir," he told his Captain, "too much smoke for a single ship. They look to be a small squadron of some sort... or a convoy."

"Warships!" von Seydlitz told the man, "there'll be no convoys this far to the East. The Americans are still 'single sailing'. Theo!" he called, "lower the sails. Summon the Engineer... start engines. Helm, port 90, come about!" He strode quickly aft calling out orders. "Alarm, alarm, everyone topside, now!"

The hatches flew open as men tumbled out from down below. Quickly they ran to the masts to bring the canvas in. This was a well-practiced routine.

Down in the engine room, the Engineer sent his Mechanics down the banks of cylinders lighting the spirit preheaters for the two big, 1000 horsepower, M.A.N, submarine-type, Diesel engines. He fitted the two crank handles into their recesses on the massive crankcases and two men each began to wind on them. At the top of the mizzen mast, puffs of dense white smoke emerged from the exhaust concealed alongside the thick length of Baltic pinewood.

The engines began to rock, emitting a slow, dull thudding. The Engineer walked down the catwalk between and opened the vent-piece on each cylinder in turn. With a wheel fixed onto each injector, he carefully adjusted the fuel flow until he was satisfied with the colour of the flame. At last, he announced he was happy with the running of the engines and rang the telegraph. Watching the dial, he saw it curl into the 'full ahead' zone. With a wave of his hands, he ordered the engines to be run up to full speed.

Topside, the ship vibrated, heeling over as the helm was swung frantically to port. Waves rose up over the bows and crashed onto the fo'cstle to drain away through the scuppers.

"Quick!" 'Boggles' said to the Beggs, "down below, down below."

Joanna stumbled and fell as the family sprinted for the hatch. 'Boggles' stopped and helped her to her feet. Before she followed the family down the steps, she saw a group of the crew run to the stack of timber on the deck. Like magic, a secret door opened and the men disappeared inside. Before 'Boggles' escorted her down the ladder she saw a large, black, cylindrical object inside.

"A gun!" her Father said in astonishment when she told him later, "this ship is armed!"

HMS Sussex was a County Class cruiser of the Royal Navy armed with 6 inch guns. Her Captain was Commander Alexander Debenham, a Regular Naval Officer of long experience.

Four Counties, HMS Sussex, HMS Suffolk, HMS Northampton and HMS Cornwall, were on their way to coal at San Diego before continuing down into the Atlantic on their voyage home. They had been operating out of Hong Kong for the last 6 months. The crews were happy to be going home.

Debenham had no idea that there was a disguised German raider loose off the West Coast of North America. He was, though, ordered to keep watch on neutral shipping and to examine suspicious vessels. Therefore, he was interested when the lookout spotted the masts of a sailing ship well to the South of them. He was further interested when the vessel took in its sails.

"He's gone," the lookout reported via the telephone, "sir, he was there and now he's gone."

"Well he couldn't have vanished into thin air," he told the lookout, irritated, "look again!"

"He dropped his sails, sir, then turned away!"

"Captain, perhaps we should check it out?" his 1st Officer suggested, "it's very suspicious, don't you think?"

The Commander of the squadron was Rear Admiral Arthur. At this time he was in his cabin on the flagship, HMS Suffolk. Commander Debenham decided to report the sighting to the leader of the Squadron. The Admiral detached Northampton because it had the largest reserve of coal. Consequently it bore off from the rear of the squadron and gradually worked up to full speed, giving chase.

On board the Seeteufel, the lookout gave the terrible news. After 20 minutes on their new bearing it was obvious that one of the warships was pursuing them.

The crew was at action stations, the two 88mm Krupp guns loaded and their 'timber cargo' disguise ready to fall away. Below, the magazine and shell room crews were anxiously waiting. Olaf was swinging from the mainmast reporting their pursuer's position.

Despite its aggressive pretentions, the Seeteufel still only had a wooden hull. It was just a sailing ship with a couple of naval guns grafted on it. It was no-more capable of a stand up seafight then flying. Although it was fitted with a couple of powerful Diesels, in a long chase, it couldn't possibly outrun a cruiser such as the Northampton.

Von Seydlitz was well aware of the precarious situation. He was the younger of two brothers in a family steeped in military and Naval service. From Koenigsburg, Capital of Royal Prussia, seat of the Knights of the Sword, von Seydlitz had behind him centuries of tradition that said that to strike one's colours was unthinkable.

In the flag locker, ready to raise at a moments notice, was the huge battle ensign of the Imperial German Navy. As well, von Seydlitz had a personal pennant, a white flag emblazoned with the coat of arms of the von Seydlitz family, featuring the black cross of the Teutonic Knights, the Knights of the Sword.

Von Seydlitz, though, had one possible trump card. Below the waterline the Imperial Dockyards in the Jade River had fitted her with torpedo tubes, one on each side of the ship. All he needed was for the British cruiser to stop close on his broadside and he could hit it with a torpedo before she could react.

"Load fish," he ordered down the voice tube, "open outer doors and pressurise tubes... then stand by."

Grimly, he ordered the Seeteufel to slow and come about to await the British.

'Dear Diary," wrote Joanna Begg, 'we are back in our corner of the mess room. The Germans have closed the shutters over the windows so it is quite dark.'

'Rupert is sitting at the table. For once he's not reading. Instead he's looking around him nervously.'

'There was a lot of banging and shouting from up top. Now it's deathly quiet, even the booming from the engines has stopped. I don't know what's worse, the noise or the silence.'

'Hiram said he thought it was just another drill. He used to be in the Navy so he knows about such things. Daddy argued with him, he said this was different from the other drills. He said the Germans seemed in a panic, as if a Navy ship was chasing them.'

'I do hope the Navy has found us. Hiram said this ship is no match for even the smallest American warship. He said the hull is wooden and they wouldn't dare get into a fight.'

'Daddy, Hiram and Rufe are making plans. They say they'll try and signal the Navy to let them know we're here in case they fire on us.'

"What are you writing?" Rupert asked Joanna, "always you writing, what are you writing?" His voice was not interrogative. Rather, Joanna thought, he sounded frightened and wanted to take his mind off what was happening on the deck above.

"A diary, I'm writing a diary," she replied.

"Can I see?" he asked.

"No, you can't!" she told him, alarmed.

"Oh," he looked disappointed, "secret?"

"Yes, secret!"

"Ah!"

"Can you tell us what's happening?"

"Not sure," he said, dropping his voice, "I think ship coming. I think British Navy. Is not good for us."

"What is to happen to us?" she asked.

"Um, not sure. Maybe we fool them, ja? Maybe we won't have to fight them!"

"Fight them? How?" Joanna asked, shocked.

"With cannons. Is all right, we fool them, you see."

Rupert didn't inspire confidence, however.

The distant ship resolved itself into a four-funnelled, British cruiser. Her Morse lamp began flashing, asking the Seeteufel to hove to. That was pointless as the sailing ship had been stopped for 25 minutes.

But instead of approaching the Seeteufel on her port side, it approached her on her port forequarter, coming to a stop across her bows. This was tactically the worst possible position for the German ship. Because of the foremast, the Seeteufel could not fire her guns dead ahead. The torpedo tube was fixed, not trainable, so it wasn't possible to aim it at the British ship. Lastly, because the German raider was stopped she was unable to maneuvre in any way. She was helpless.

Von Seydlitz was alarmed. There was no choice but to bluff their way through. The Northampton's lamp began flashing again. 2nd Officer Theo Seekt translated the signal for the Captain.

"'Norwegian vessel, please identify... last and next ports of call... cargo'."

"Ok, signal, repeat, 'SV Stavanger, Oslo, from San Diego to Suva, timber, ' see if they accept that." Soon the reply came back from the British warship.

"Bon voyage, Stavanger," repeated the 2nd Officer.