Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Fog bound Encounter1

   By Katzmarek







   Eliza could not sleep.  Huddled under the covers in her bunk she watched
the oil lamp slowly swaying with the movement of the ship and listened to
the creaking and groaning of the timbers.  For 2 days they had remained
becalmed in the North Sea and she was beginning to wonder if the fog would
ever lift and the breeze return.

   She decided to go up on deck again.  She was bored and wanted some human
contact.  The old Norwegian master, Mr.  Sondquist was sure to be up there,
rocking back and forth in the chair in the wheelhouse, and she enjoyed his
conversation.

   Dressing herself in her padded jacket and fur hat, she hauled on her
sheepskin-lined boots and climbed the companionway.

   Grey, everything was grey, and still and frankly creepy.  She looked up
at the mainmast to the spread of canvass hanging limp, waiting for the
wind. The riding light glowed like a little spark above her head, dangling
from the invisible top of the mast.

   Making her way in the eerie atmosphere she carefully crept her way aft
towards the darker grey shape of the wheelhouse.  There was few crew about,
no doubt they were below in the small mess playing cards and smoking their
pipes like they always seemed to be doing.

   "Good morning Mr.  Sondquist.  How are you this morning?" She said to
the old man.  "Hello, Eliza, you are up early," he replied in his thick
accent.  "I'm afraid there's nothing exciting out here at the moment. 
Perhaps towards noon there may be a nor'wester coming but, then again, this
could go on for days yet." "Aren't you afraid that another ship might not
see us here?" she asked him.  "Not really," he answered, " we have our
lights up, we have the fog-bell here." As if to prove the point he jerked
the rope above his head to be answered by the deep gong of the bell.

   The throb of the bell died slowly away.  Mr.  Sondquist went on, "
Steamers must use their sirens, every ten minutes in these conditions.  We
would hear them miles away." "Oh.  Mr.  Sondquist, what is that sound?  Can
you hear it?" Eliza asked, staring northeast.



   Motorman `Kimi' Kasemann was trying to keep warm.  He sat huddled in his
thick greatcoat and fur hat with a woolen scarf wrapped around his neck. 
`Emil' and `Fritz' were both stopped and there was nothing to do but try
and stave off hypothermia.  The only sound was the faint clanking of the
other motors, throttled down, and the occasional padding-by of other
crewmembers on the catwalk outside the tiny aft-messroom.

   "Kasemann?" a head appeared through the aluminium door.  Kimi made to
stand but was shooed by the Chief.  "Sit down.  Have you got some coffee
brewed?" The Chief enquired.

   "Yes Chief," he answered, "in the pot." "Good!  I'm freezing.  Keeping
warm?" "Just!  What's happening?" "Little!  We have descended to try and
fix our position.  Everything's closed down, as you can hear.  I don't
think the Fregatten-Kapitan has the faintest idea where we are." The Chief
sat down.

   "At least we must still be over water, its like chowder out there," the
Chief went on.  "Chief?" Kimi asked, "we are not still venting are we?"
"Some, but we are still well ballasted.  We are heavy but I think we'll be
ok.  They have been chipping ice off the breeches in case we have to climb
in a hurry.  Some poor fellow went up top and said the ice up there isn't
too bad."

   Moments later they felt a jolt, followed by a vibration which slowly
dissipated.  "Fuck!" said the Chief, "What the hell was that?" "It feels
like we've hit something, Chief," Kimi said.  "We must be on the deck,
hell!" Just then the bells rang.  "Alarm!" the Chief, shouted, "We've gone
down."





   Some 5 minutes before, on the topsail schooner `Stavanger' Mr. 
Sondquist listened to the clanking sound with growing concern.  "It's
coming nearer," he told Eliza.  "What is it, a steamship?" she asked him.
"None I've ever heard.  Sounds more like an aeroplane, a big one, more than
one engine."

   Looking towards the direction of the sound, they both saw the fog darken
into a huge round shape.  "Look!" Mr.  Sondquist shouted, "its coming
straight at us."





   Fregatten-Kapitan Karl-Heinz von Dalwig zu Leichtenfels saw the masthead
light and shouted to the helm.  "Hard port!  There's something in front of
us." Creeping forward in a dead slow he new it would be many minutes before
the huge, 700 feet long L 68 would begin to turn.  "Alarm!  We are too low,
let go emergency ballast!" "Unterleutnant Wolfgang Lander grabbed the
telephone and cranked the handle.  "Alarm, alarm!  Let go ballast.  We are
crashing!" he shouted into the handset.

   Minutes ticked by while the Control Car crew watched the swinging light
in front of them.  "Kapitan!" Lander reported, "The mechanisms are frozen
on the forward emergency breeches.  Shall I let go aft?" "Shit!" the
Kapitan cursed, "Yes, dump the stern breeches, 6 through 9 amidships, we
might get enough lift to drift over it.  Hold 10 to 14 or we'll stand on
our nose, quick!" Lander conveyed the orders.



   The Chief and Kimi made their way along the catwalk.  Far off they could
hear cries of, "Stop the motors, stop the motors, we're down." They were
below `zelle 15' when they heard the rumble of the ballast being dropped.
Shouts continued far off, near one of the amidships motors, `Dora'.

   The catwalk began to slant down in front of them.  Overhead they heard
the groaning of the superstructure as the whole ship began to tilt towards
the nose.  Turning to Kimi, the Chief said, "She's down by the head, the
stern's rising." "I know, Chief.  We'd better be careful we don't loose our
grip.  We may be vertical in a minute." "I don't think so.  Only the
amidships breeches have been released.  Smell that?" "No.  What Chief?"
"Exactly, we would be smelling gas if any of the cells had been damaged."
"Right Chief," replied the Motorman, "so what do you think is happening?"



   On the Stavanger, Mr.  Sondquist was pulling frantically on the
fog-bell's rope as he and Eliza watched the vast grey shape descend on the
ship.  The huge nose now dwarfed the schooner and the hull of the thing
stretched back into the mist.  "She's going to hit, she's going to hit,"
the old man repeated as he rang the bell.  Eliza shrunk down in fear, as
the phantom monster seemed about to crush them into little pieces.  "Eliza,
hold onto the rail," Mr.  Sondquist went on.

   Some of the crew came clattering up on deck to investigate the noise. 
The Master barked at them in Norwegian.  As realisation dawned on them they
scattered for handholds as the shape bore down.

   The nose of the monster came in over the mainmast and it was obvious
that's where it was going to hit.  "Clear the mainmast, get clear of the
mainmast," yelled the Master in both English and Norwegian.  "Watch those
stays and braces, Eliza.  If they snap they'll take off an arm, or a leg."
"Is it going to hit us?" Eliza asked.  "Yes, lie down on the deck, here
hold this rope, put it around you, so," the master showed her.

   Eliza had her eyes shut when there came snapping and crashing sounds. 
She could hear screams and cries all around her and felt the schooner's
deck begin to tilt.  She could hear gear crashing to the deck and warning
yells, some in English, "Look out!  It's falling... we're going under...
abandon ship... it's on top of us..." But she did as Mr.  Sondquist told
her and clutched the rope tightly about her.

   Even as she heard the sea crash over the side, she did not let go.



   Suddenly the pandemonium ceased.  Eliza opened her eyes to a scene of
devastation on the deck of the schooner.  The crew and passengers began to
pick themselves up from their refuges and stare around them, and up.

   Eliza looked up too and stared in horror.  Somehow the Stavanger had
been spun around 90 degrees and the monster now hovered along its length.
Right above her head she saw a car, suspended below the huge grey beast. 
In front of it, the mast of the schooner disappeared inside the monster
having torn a rent extending half the schooners length.  In front of the
ragged hole was painted a large black Balkan Cross.

   "See that, it's German," came Mr.  Sondquist's voice beside her.  "Are
you alright?" he asked.  "Yes, I think so, what is it?" she asked.  "An
airship," came the Skipper's reply, " a German naval Zeppelin.  Of all the
ocean to be in we have to choose the same place," he said ruefully.

   Heads appeared out of the car above them, shouting in German.  Mr. 
Sondquist replied in English, not speaking the airship crew's language. 
"Get that thing off us," he shouted waving his arms.  Eliza thought they
were so low they could jump down on the Stavanger's deck.



   On the L68 Lander looked down on the figures below.  They didn't appear
to be able to hear him or, as was more likely, understand.  "Who are you?"
he asked again, " what ship are you?" All he received in reply was much
shouting in a language he couldn't understand.

   Above them the Forward Watch Officer descended the ladder into the Car.
"Stresemann?" acknowledged the Fregatten-Kapitan, " what's the damage
forward?" "Their mast is jammed in our keel, Kapitan." "Why didn't it snap
off?" asked the Commander.  "It's steel!  It's bent into the cross work,
stuck fast.  I have sent some men for hacksaws." "Good," replied the
Captain, "get them to hurry up, I don't fancy hanging around here for too
long." "That's not all, sir," Stresemann continued, "the gaffe of that
vessel..." "Yes." "It punched through the hull and is lodged under `zelle
3', about a metre underneath.  It missed the forward breeches by
centremetres.  The point is..." "Go on." "Well, it's working up and down in
the swell.  It is very close to puncturing the gas cell." "Thank god we
have no wind," said the Captain, " get it cut off Leutnant, quickly!"

   After Stresemann climbed back up into the hull of the airship, the
radioman, in his little cubicle at the rear of the Control Car called to
the Captain, "Sir!  They're using their radio!"



   On the Stavanger, some organisation was beginning to return.  Pieces of
broken rigging were being heaved over the side, the injured were being
gathered up and people were given something to do, no matter how trivial.
The Marconi man, Ormson was told by the Skipper to send out a distress
signal.  He found the radio shack, beneath the mainmast, was intact and the
radio in working order.  However he yelled to Mr.  Sondquist, "The aerial's
down Skipper, it's only hanging from the foremast stay.  The signal will be
weak." "Send our position anyway, there might be a nearby vessel."

   Ormson worked the treadle-powered magneto and began to send, "Mayday...
S V Stavanger... 0' 34"W...57' 03"N..."



   In the Control Car above the schooner there was a sudden burst of
activity.  Radioman Forster frantically searched through the ship
registers, Lander called for the chart and spread it over the fold up
aluminium table.  "We're about 250kms east of Aberdeen Scotland, Captain,"
the young Navigator said.  Also responding to the Morse signal from the
ship below, Forster finally announced, "Stavanger... Oslo Norway... topsail
schooner of 408 gross tons...30 metres long...built Oslo 1907..." "Ok,
thank you Radio," interrupted the Captain.

   "Get them to stop signaling, Leutnant, we'll have the English all over
us," ordered von Leichtenfels.  "Sir, I'm trying, they don't understand. 
Perhaps we should mount the Parabellum?  A quick burst over their heads may
send them the message." "No I will try something else first.  Who among the
crew speaks English, do you know?" "Um yes...I know a fellow... a
Motorman... Kasemann I think... spent his childhood there... English mother
I understand..." Lander pondered.  "Good!  Get him here."



   Kimi and the Chief were just working their way past the amidships motors
when the phone rang at `Dora's' engineer station.  "Chief!" the amidships
motorman said from the phone.  The Chief answered and called out,
"Kasemann! The boss wants you in the car, better hurry." Kimi scampered
down the hull towards the Control car.

   Leutnant Lander explained to Kimi what he had to say when the Motorman
arrived at the front car.  Leaning out of the window he called,

   "Stavanger... please turn off your radio." From the deck he clearly
heard, "When you get your bloody airship off my vessel." "Please, perhaps
we can help each other.  But you must turn off your radio," Kimi
re-iterated, conscious of the impatient Lander behind him.  "Help, how?"
came the reply.

   Lander said to the Captain, "Sir, this is futile.  Let me get a couple
of gunners down here and..." "Leutnant!" the Captain stopped him, " We do
not know if they are armed.  I remind you that we have crew working above
them in the hull trying to free us.  They would be vulnerable to shots
through the hull.  Furthermore, we are at point blank range if they started
shooting back at us and we have half-a-million cubic metres of highly
inflammable Hydrogen gas above our heads.  For the last time, Lander, I DO
NOT WANT A FUCKING GUN BATTLE, DO YOU HEAR ME," the normally reticent
aristocrat roared.



   "He's English," Eliza told the Old Norwegian, "I know a Home Counties
accent anywhere, what's he on a German airship for?" "Perhaps he's
prisoner," Mr.  Sondquist ventured, " or a traitor." He called up at the
figure above once more, "What do you have in mind?" "Have you an acetylene
torch?" "No.  What would you want us to do with it anyhow, blow us all up?"
"Hydrogen rises, sir.  In any case we are not leaking any gas, yet," the
man above replied.  "Well don't start," said Mr.  Sondquist, "say, can you
come down here, I'm getting hoarse from shouting." "I night be able to, I
will check with my Captain."

   "Well, if he's a prisoner, they must trust him very well," the
schooner's master told Eliza.  "Which leaves the alternative?" "Pity," said
Eliza, " he sounds so nice." "My goodness girl!" No wonder your father told
me to watch you!" Said the master laughing.



   On L68, Forster was calling out his report to the Captain, "They have
stopped transmitting... I hear no answer yet... Naval traffic from Skapa
Flow and Rosyth I think... Loch Ewe perhaps... nothing near... They could
be keeping silent of course." Lander suggested, "They just gave their
position, they never mentioned us.  A vessel would ask them for their
status, and to restate their position, that is if they heard them, of
course." "Of course Lander," said the Captain, icily.

   "Kasemann," von Leichtenfels said, "go down there in the observation
car. We will lower you over the water, ask them to send a boat for you.  I
want you to secure their radio, I don't care how.  See if they are armed
too, take a pistol.  But above all, establish a rapport with them.  We want
their co-operation.  " Then to Lander, "Lower him a telephone so we can
keep in touch." "Sir."



   "Hedwigsdotter, put a boat over the side," called the Stavanger's
skipper, "they're sending a man down with a telephone to save our tonsils.
See that!  They are lowering him in that little car, quick man, or he'll
land in the water."

   Kimi could see the little rowboat put out from the stern of the
schooner. He lay prone in the tiny observation car as it swung on the end
of the unwinding cable.  The water looked freezing and he hoped the
winch-man had a good view of the surface of the sea.  He did not want a
ducking.  He wound the handle on the car's telephone and called up
instructions, "50 metres... good... slow... slow." He opened the hatch on
the top of the car and got to his knees.  He figured he wanted the chance
to jump if it hit the water.

   The little boat drew nearer.  A boatman was waving at him with a boat
hook and calling something in Norwegian.  Although the weather was calm and
still the little car nevertheless swayed dizzily.  Kimi caught the boat
hook after a number of attempts and hooked it to the side of the hatchway.
The boat drew along side and he jumped in.

   Kimi looked up at the airship, it seemed to cover the sky above.  He was
pulled over the stern of the schooner by the powerful arms of a couple of
crewman.  In front of him stood a man in his fifties with a matted grey
beard.

   "Sondquist," the man said, "I am the skipper.  How do you suggest you
get that thing off my ship?" "Motorman Kasemann, sir, pleased to meet you."
Kimi told them that the Control Car was going to lower a telephone.

   They had a problem freeing his mast from the airship.  It was stuck fast
and under strain.  If they sawed through it inside the airship's hull it
would snap free in such a way it may tear a gas cell.  "You must cut
through below our hull and we do the same above.  Maybe the energy will be
less when it comes free," Kimi told the older man.

   Eliza peered uncertainly out of the wheelhouse door.  As the two men
came level she coughed, extravagantly.  Mr.  Sondquist paused, "You have a
cold Eliza?" he said smiling.  "No... I," she stumbled.  "Madam," the young
man at the skipper's side said, bowing stiffly from the waist, "His name's
Kasemann," said the skipper, "Kasemann?  Meet Eliza Simpson.  She is taking
passage with us." "English?" said the Motorman, "pleased to meet you."
Eliza flushed, speechless.  This young man was without a doubt the
handsomest man she had ever met.

   Part 2 follows.