The wake of the gertrud.., p.30
The Wake of the Gertrud Luth, page 30
“Shut up,” Schepke told him. “I don’t want to hear it.” The anger had been slow but now welled suddenly.
“But I wish to —” the old man started to say.
“Shut up!” Schepke shouted, his face fierce and white under his high peaked cap.
The old man slowly dropped his head forward onto his chest. At the same time Müller dragged himself up and stood leaning his back against the bulkhead as Altmeyer came back with the money. Taking it, Schepke threw it at the old man’s feet. “Call Hong Kong and tell them we’ve got two stowaways on board.”
“Yes, sir,” Altmeyer said, and went out, glancing at the girl.
The girl had not looked at any of them since Schepke had knocked Müller down, and now she sat looking at her folded hands.
“Get out,” Schepke said turning to Müller. “Kamei. Put a man outside the door and see nobody comes in here.”
“You are taking us to Hong Kong?” the girl asked, looking at him now, not quite knowing what to think, her voice sounding very small.
Karl Schepke looked at her for a moment, then turned suddenly and went out. There was something familiar about it all, something he knew, and he did not want any part of this thing and he did not want to think about any of it.
64
“HERR Kapitän! Kapitän, sir!”
He came quickly awake, sitting up and seeing Altmeyer by the bunk.
“This just came through, sir.” Altmeyer handed him the signal pad.
Already in receipt of direct notification from Shanghai re stowaways. Do not inform Immigration Authorities. Will meet ship.
H.L. Wang.
Schepke read it then looked at his wrist watch. It was just after four o’clock in the morning.
“All right,” he said, dismissing the boy, then lighting a cigarette and sitting on the edge of the bunk.
“Sir.”
“What is it?”
“What will happen to them, sir?”
Schepke shrugged. “I don’t think they could ever have really got away.”
“She’s very beautiful,” Altmeyer said, a little self-consciously.
“I know.”
“Well good night, sir.”
Karl Schepke, sitting on the edge of the bunk, did not answer. Then when Altmeyer had gone he put his tunic on and went aft to the galley.
Hechler, having just completed the middle watch, was pouring coffee.
“It’s close tonight.”
Schepke looked in at him. “It’s not much of a night for sleeping.”
Hechler poured another mug full of coffee, dripped milk from a can into it, and stirred methodically. Sweat gleamed on his face and neck and his overalls smelled sharply of drying sweat and the clammy, oil and steam atmosphere of the engine-room.
Schepke took the coffee from him and led the way out onto the boatdeck. High astern of them was the fantail, the housing silvered with moonlight. The moon was away far to the south-west, the bright silver riding the smooth lifting swell. The only stirring of the humid air was that caused by the passage of the ship through the black water. The coffee was hot and bitter and smelled of the canned milk. Below them, the water washed and hissed whitely, bubbling and foaming on the outward rush from the ship’s side. Far out the ocean was quiet and there were no other lights in the early morning, Astern of them the wake stood out long and straight and coral white in the vast lifting blackness of the ocean.
“Dorsch told me about the old man and the girl,” Hechler said after a while.
“They might just have got away with it if they had been ordinary Chinese.”
Hechler looked at him. “What are they, some sort of celebrities?”
“I met the old man that time in Shanghai. We were in the park. It was quite accidentally.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s some sort of artist. At least that’s what he told me. The girl’s his daughter. He talked about them being politically suspect or something. I didn’t take it all in at the time. He was acting sort of strange. Like maybe he was expecting somebody to leap out of the trees.”
“They don’t sound dangerous to me,” Hechler said. “But how did they get from Shanghai to Chingkiang if they’re political suspects. People like that don’t get to move around as they want.”
“I never asked them. But it’s since struck me as strange as well,” Schepke said, remembering the last time he had seen the old man was him crossing the roadway outside of the park.
“What about Chingkiang?” Hechler asked. “Won’t they be missed?”
“They’ve been missed. I just had a signal from Wang. I don’t really think they could ever have made it. Anyway, I don’t know the immigration procedure for landing anybody in Hong Kong.”
“The Limeys will have plenty of regulations for that. They’ve got regulations for everything. They thrive on them.” Hechler emptied his mug out over the wall. “Well I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I want to get some sleep before morning.”
Karl Schepke shook a cigarette out and lit it. It was quiet and peaceful on deck and there was nothing but the steady hum of below deck machinery and the sound of the ocean washing against the hull.
After a time he went inside and returned the mug to the galley before going forward. The old man was sitting at the table. He seemed a very meek and tired old man and he had a long livid bruise down his left temple. The girl was quietly asleep on the bunk, her face turned away from the lighting. Motioning the old man to be seated again, he joined him at the table.
“Hong Kong already knew about you,” he said “Shanghai had wirelessed the company.”
The old man sat and looked steadily at him but did not say anything.
“I don’t think you could ever have made it,” Schepke told him. “Ordinary coolies, maybe.”
“I see that now. Perhaps I saw it before but did not allow myself to think about it. It was thoughtless and selfish of me. I am profoundly sorry for the trouble I have caused you.” He looked directly at Schepke while he spoke. “But it was not for myself,” he went on again quietly. “My own time here is almost over. It is my daughter for whom I am saddened.” The sadness was in all of him, in his bearing, in his eyes, and in his voice. He had a pleasant old face, the flesh about the corners of his eyes deeply wrinkled, and his beard growing white and wispy.
“What will happen when they take you back?”
“I would rather not think,” the old man said very quietly. “It will come soon enough.”
“What about your daughter?” The old man looked at the table. “Does she understand?”
“I think so. She is a very brave and sensible daughter. I am very proud of her.”
“I don’t think there’s much I can do.”
“She will manage well. The Chinese have many proverbs. One says: Fish swim at the bottom of the sea, yet the angler hooks them; birds fly high in the heavens, but the marksman brings them down; only the depths of the human heart cannot be fathomed.”
Karl Schepke rubbed his cigarette out. He wanted to change the subject now.
“Do you mind if I ask what you were doing in Chingkiang?”
“I am afraid we were arrested the evening of that day in Shanghai. I was sent to Chingkiang before going on to the penal colony north of the river. I am told there are large and secret factories to be worked in.”
“What did they arrest you for?”
The old man lightly shrugged. “It was a certain Major Pao. He is of the Special Police. He did not explain why, but does anyone in China today bother to explain anything? There is nothing –”
“Father!” The girl had wakened suddenly and was watching them.
“Rest child,” her father said. “We only talk. There is nothing to worry about.”
Karl Schepke, feeling suddenly awkward under her gaze, shook out another cigarette. She lay with her head on the pillow, watching his every movement.
“What are you called?” Schepke said, looking again to the old man.
“Chao Kang-nien,” the old man answered politely. “My daughter is called Fu-chen.”
Karl Schepke felt himself becoming involved. He wanted to get up quickly and leave. And since the girl had wakened she had watched him continuously.
He rose from the table. “I’m sorry I will not be able to help,” he said.
“No. Please do not feel sorrow,” the old man told him. “In this world there are both wakers and dreamers. It is just that I am a dreamer.”
“Good night,” Schepke said. And he did not look again at the girl.
She watched the door close quietly behind him. “I do not like him, Father.”
“My child,” her father said sadly. “Where there are no scars there has been no battle.”
And the ship moved very smoothly through the dark, moonlit ocean.
65
KARL SCHEPKE swung the ship’s head out through Lei U Mun Pass, putting the foremast directly in line with Whampoa Dock, and started the long easy run in past Shaukiwan, and Sai Wan Ho, and past Taikoo Dock and Quarry Bay, and on around North Point, putting Whampoa Dock astern on the starboard quarter, Kowloon spread out white and hot in the brilliant afternoon sunlight, all the water of the harbour flat and the deep blue of the sky, Sugar Loaf Peak and Big Hat Mountain cleanly outlined and high and sharp, looming above the foothills beyond the city. Across the harbour the high hills of Hong Kong stood up clean and fresh and green against the sky. Then as he brought the Gertrud Lüth around Tsim Sha Tsui he saw them gathered on the wharf by Peking Road, a tight little knot of people watching the ship swing around into view.
As he rang off the main engines he saw Mr. Wang and Mr. Sung start down the wharf. Pushing his cap back off his forehead, he turned and went below.
They were waiting for him in the passage.
“Well, how did it happen?” Mr. Wang asked, annoyed.
“How did what happen?” Schepke asked him.
“These people! How did they get on board?”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Schepke told him, not thinking much of either of them.
“But this is a very serious situation,” Mr. Wang countered, but having lost some of his fire. “Shanghai is extremely upset. These persons are enemies of the people.”
“They don’t look much like radicals to me,” Schepke said, evenly.
Mr. Wang ignored him, looking at the man outside the big cabin. “They are in there?”
Schepke nodded, and they both started for the door.
“They will have to be returned to China as soon as possible,” Mr. Wang said, considering the outcome beyond question. “You will put them ashore as soon as it can be arranged. The police and immigration authorities know nothing as yet.”
“Not me,” Schepke told him. “I don’t put anybody ashore. That’s an offence in itself.”
“Very well, Captain,” Mr. Wang said, smiling his superiority.
Mr. Sung had said nothing at all and now he followed them into the big cabin.
The girl and her father were waiting, standing close together, unsure of what to expect.
Mr. Wang set his briefcase on the table and regarded them coldly. The girl’s eyes met his and her chin lifted slightly. She was wearing a severely-cut blue cheongsam and had her hair pinned high on her head. Then Mr. Wang turned again to the old man and sharply asked him something in Mandarin. The old man answered him very quietly, looking directly at him, then at Mr. Sung.
“What’s happening?” Schepke asked.
“He tells me they came on board by themselves,” Mr. Wang said. “Is that correct?”
“Do you think I had something to do with it?” Schepke asked.
Mr. Wang smiled politely. “I had not thought about it,” he said. “Now, Captain, if you would kindly leave us for a few minutes.”
Karl Schepke looked at the girl and her father. They stood very humbly across on the other side of the table. There was nothing he could do and he stepped quietly out into the passage and waited.
After a while Mr. Wang came out followed by Mr. Sung, both of them looking a little happier in themselves.
“Did you find out all you wanted?” Schepke asked them.
“I think so,” Mr. Wang said. “I am just disappointed that this had to happen. You see, we also had information through Shanghai that you had previously been seen with the old man. However, I now believe that was purely coincidental. The old man swears he did not know that it was your ship until the night they were discovered.”
“You know a lot for somebody so far removed,” Schepke said.
“Let us just say that I look after our mutual interests,” Mr. Wang said, blandly. “But rest assured, Captain, you are completely exonerated from the whole business. I am glad.”
“Think nothing of it,” Schepke told him.
“As I have already said, they will go ashore as soon as it is possible. However, I do not think it wise to move them at the moment and it may be late Sunday evening or Monday morning before we can do anything.”
“How are you going to get them back across the border?”
Mr. Wang smiled his superiority again. “There should be no difficulty, Captain. As far as the girl and her father are concerned they believe they will be remaining on board until the ship returns later to Shanghai. But that is not for you to worry about. The Gertrud Lüth sails directly for Kobe this time. The Fenching Liberator arrives tonight from Canton with a cargo of oil and paint containers and electrical fittings. For the present you off load everything except Number One hold. That, too, is for Kobe.”
“All right,” Schepke said. “But the old man and the girl are your worry. You can land them any way you want.”
“Of course, Captain,” Mr. Wang said, smiling.
Karl Schepke went below with them. Out on deck, Cheng was already clearing away the after hatches. Schepke, leaning on the alleyway rail, watched the two of them walk back across the wharf to their car on the corner of Peking Road; the two of them, very confident, their oiled-down hair shining smoothly in the sunlight.
66
HE was in the messroom when Menzies came on board. Dinner was over and they were drinking coffee.
“This is a surprise,” he said rising, taking Menzies’ hand.
“I thought it would be pleasant to see how you were,” Menzies said, glancing at Cheng and Altmeyer.
Karl Schepke led the way out onto the boatdeck, the clatter of winches carrying up loudly from the wells as the transfer of cargo began from the Fenching Liberator berthed on the starboard side.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“I heard you have someone on board,” Menzies said, watching his face.
Karl Schepke leaned his foot on the port rail. “Who told you?”
Menzies smiled. “That sort of news travels fast.”
“It gets more complicated the more you know about it,” Schepke said. “It’s an old man and his daughter. They seem harmless enough. The old man’s some sort of artist. I believe the girl was an actress. That’s all I know.”
“I hear that Shanghai was upset,” Menzies said. “That’s what made me more inquisitive. Are you taking them back?”
“Listen,” Schepke said. “What happens to anybody coming in through the New Territories?”
“Well most of them have been turned back lately.”
“What if these two had come in that way?”
Menzies shrugged. “It depends on who they are. If it’s anyone important enough, and with good grounds for asylum, they usually stay. As it is, you haven’t landed them, and technically, they’re still on foreign soil.”
“Is there any means of finding out what could happen to them?”
“You wouldn’t be thinking of landing them, would you?” Menzies asked, watching his face closely again.
Karl Schepke looked back at him but made no reply.
“All right,” Menzies told him. “Come across and see me tomorrow.” They walked toward the ladder to the after well. “By the way, what’s the old man’s name?”
“Chao Kang-nien,” Schepke told him. “At least that’s what he told me.”
Menzies looked at his wrist watch. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and started below.
Karl Schepke waited until he was ashore then turned back into the cabin passage.
The old man was sitting quietly at the table while the girl was looking out through one of the scuttles toward Victoria.
“You can go out on deck if you wish,” Schepke told her. She did not look at him. The bright sunlight coming in through the scuttle fell on her hair and face.
“Believe me,” he told her.
This time she looked to her father.
“That is extremely kind of you,” the old man told him. He walked out with them to the boatdeck. The hard afternoon sunlight reflected glaringly from the bleached decking, a cool, lightly-moving breeze gently ruffling the deeply-blue waters of the harbour. Across the harbour, below the dwelling studded Peak, the tall, many storied buildings of Central Victoria stood up brightly white and angular.
“What do you think of it?” he asked.
“It is very beautiful,” the girl said. “There is so much to see. So much people and traffic.” ·
“It’s better at night,” he told her.
“It is even more beautiful?” she said, this time looking up at his face shadowed under the peak of his cap.
“Well not altogether to me,” he said, smiling. He had not seen her smile yet and he wondered how it would be when she smiled.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” It was Hechler, dressed ready to go ashore. “I’m going across to see von Pittkamer now,” he said.
“I hope you’ll be lucky,” Schepke told him, then introduced him to the old man and his daughter.
“I am pleased to have finally met you,” Hechler said. They both politely bowed their acknowledgement.
“I just saw Wang coming across the dock,” he then said to Schepke.
“Please excuse us,” Schepke said.
They met Mr. Wang coming up the main stairway.
