The Sea Break by Antony Trew Page B

its effect. Stauch sank back into his chair and applied himself to the stein of chilled Pilsener. It was excellent.
    The Freiherr lit his cheroot, spinning the match into a wastepaper basket. “To-day I delivered the charts to Captain Lindemann.”
    “Your first meeting with him? What do you think of him?”
    “I liked him. He’s uncomplicated. A real seaman. No beating about the bush.”
    “And his navigating officer? Günther Moewe?” Stauch’s small eyes watched the Freiherr curiously.
    “How should I know? We met for only a moment. Possibly he is a good man.”
    “He is . He is also a good member of the party.” This was said with some relish. Stauch, too, was a good member of the party; but with the German aristocracy, the old junker officer class, one could never be sure. The von Falkenhausens came from East Prussia and they were great landowners. Stauch felt sure their party loyalties would be lukewarm.
    The Freiherr ignored the remark. “Lindemann tells me that the Hagenfels is in all respects ready for sea. The period of no moon commences in three days. At any moment a signal will come from the Wilhelmstrasse. On the night of the sailing, during the hours of darkness, we will reinforce her crew from the other ships. The time of sailing must coincide with the outward movement of allied vessels. To give Hagenfels cover in the harbour as she leaves, and outside when she reaches the open sea.”
    Stauch loosened his belt. It was hot and his stomach strained against the leather strap. “Did you inform Kapitän Lindemann of what is intended?”
    “Only in outline. That the ship will become a supply vessel for U-boats and raiders. No other details. He knows that I shall take command.”
    They discussed the matter further, and then Stauch changed the subject. “You have seen the signals we have been intercepting ? The sinkings off here and to the south are excellent, are they not, Herr Baron?” His little eyes, conscious of the part he had played, shone with pride.
    Von Falkenhausen nodded. “Very good indeed! The U-cruisers are not wasting time. But the supply situation is serious and much depends on getting the Hagenfels out.”
    Stauch looked at his watch and got up to go. The Freiherrwaved him down. “One moment, Herr Stauch! There is another matter I must discuss with you. It is important”
    The fat man sank back into his chair, his small eyes a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
    Von Falkenhausen filled the empty stein and poured himself another whisky and soda. “At Ressano Garcia yesterday, when I collected the charts, two South African naval officers came through. They didn’t recognise me, but I recognised them. I saw them in Alexandria last year on many occasions. They were serving in the same group.” He paused. “An anti-submarine group.”
    Stauch was not particularly interested. “I imagine they are here on leave. It is not unusual.”
    “No. But it is unusual to give incorrect information on immigration forms.”
    Stauch sat up and began to take notice. “How do you know this?”
    “Andrada Gouviea was on duty in the customs house. He let me look at the forms they’d just completed. Widmark—he was a lieutenant when I last saw him—described himself as a salesman. The other man, McFadden—he was engineer officer in Widmark’s ship—described himself as an accountant.”
    “That is normal, Herr Baron. These were probably their peacetime occupations and coming to a neutral country they can only come as civilians.”
    “Their peacetime occupations happened to be ‘lawyer’ and ‘marine engineer.’ But there is more. They gave addresses in Johannesburg at which they are not known,” The tall man’s eyes glinted.
    “Are you sure, Herr Baron?”
    “I telephoned Johannesburg last night. Spoke to Leuthen. He checked and phoned me back this morning.”
    “Another thing,” von Falkenhausen was holding his drink against the light, revolving the glass slowly, squinting at it