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<1st attachment, "King Jakob4.txt" begin>

KING JAKOB (Part 4)


By KATZMAREK (C)


------------------------------------------------------------


This work is fiction. It remains the property of the author and
may not be used for profit without the author's express
permission in writing. It contains sex, so if this offends etc...


----------------------------------------------------------------


Part 4


The North German Lloyd liner 'Cap Trafalgar' was brand new at
the close of 1911. The magnificent three-funnel steamer was the
pride of the NDL fleet.  Governor Westermann and Jakob Herzberg,
alias Count Feodor Politovsky, sat sipping wine in the fabulous
'wintergarten' near the stern of the great liner. Through the
glass panels Apia was busy as lighters, canoes and craft of
every type hastened to service the ship and its passengers.


Finally, the rotund Governor had reached the end of his tenure
in the Samoan Islands. He had held on for 11 years, an unusually
long time, but now Berlin had assigned a replacement. Sullenly,
he watched his daughter Katalin explore the exotic fauna of the
conservatory with his two grandchildren and their Chinese nanny,
Qing Li.


"So how do you rate von Goeltz?" Jakob asked him. Shaken from
his thoughts, the old Governor furrowed his brow at the mention
of the new one.


"Old school Junker," Westermann told Jakob, "hard-headed, tread
lightly with him. He will be stubborn."


"I see," Jakob considered, "how will he get on then with the
Samoans?"


"Who knows?" he shrugged, "I have explained how everything
works. I've introduced him to old man Tamasese and the council.
He is aristocratic, but not stupid, I think. But be warned," the
man leaned forward, "he will not tolerate too many
irregularities. You must be careful about the way you do
business."


"I have little need of 'iregularities'," Jakob explained, "the
company is too big, particularly after being listed. I might
offer him a nominal seat on the board..."


"He will not take it," the Governor interrupted, "far to
scrupulous. Rich or no, he regards you as little more than a
shopkeeper. And Russian at that."


"Pity," Jakob subsided. 


"Feodor?" Westermann continued, "shall we go for a walk on
deck? There's something I wish to discuss, privately." The two
men got up and went outside. Under one of the lifeboats, lashed
to its davit, Westermann turned to face Jakob, his expression
serious. "So?" he addressed the younger man, seriously, "who
really *are* you?"


"What do you mean?"


"Don't play games, Count. Four years ago I received a request
from St Petersburg to place you under arrest for imposture. They
were unable to say, however, who you really were. Only, they had
no record of a Count Politovsky."


"You were suppose to arrest me?" Jakob asked him.


"Yes. Unfortunately I've seemed to have lost the letter. My
secretary, y'know..." Westermann replied, shaking his head. "I
have no sympathy for falsehoods, you understand, but my
daughter..."


"Yes, I understand," Jakob told him, gravely. Sighing heavily,
Jakob began to tell his story. Westermann listened attentatively
until Jakob mentioned the incident in Nossi Be' with the
aristocratic officer.


"You killed him?" the Governor asked.


"No, no. Out cold."


"Ah. Serves him right! So you deserted from your ship before
Tsushima? A very wise decision in retrospect."


Jakob finished his story filled with apprehension. Would
Westermann betray him to the Russian authorities? As a deserter
in time of war, surely there was but one sentence. 


Jakob felt he had the measure of the man. A happy drunk, a man
unable to live within his means, a man happy to have had his son-
in-law subsidise his extravagances, a man grateful to have such
a son-in-law who provided for his daughter in the style she was
growing accustomed to. Above all, a man who had not been
indisposed to a little corruption. But would he now discover his
sense of duty?


"You be careful of von Goeltz," Westermann warned, "he's a
military man, I can smell it. Now why would Berlin send an army
officer way out here do you suppose?" Jakob shook his head.
"There is no rebellion among the Samoans? No war? So why?" Jakob
waited for Westermann's conclusions. "Either he has been tucked
away out of sight by his big-shot friends because of some, ah,
indiscretions?" he chuckled, "or Berlin is planning war and he's
here to plan Samoa's defence."


"War? With whom?" Jakob asked. Westermann shrugged.


"Who knows? Take your pick, Russia, France, the English
perhaps? Maybe all three, God forbid? If only Bismarck was still
Chancelor, Bethmann-Holweg is a fool..."


"So will you betray me?" Jakob interrupted.


"Ah," the Governor replied, "now you've heard about glasshouses
and stone throwing?" Jakob nodded, "well..." he suddenly looked
serious, "just you look after my daughter, that's all I ask. And
my grandchildren, you do this for me and I will not say
anything." Jakob breathed a sigh of relief. "You're a good man,"
he continued, "oh, I know you are a rogue, but an honest one.
You never cheat your friends... and you have many of them, Herr
Count Politovsky. I am not without friends in Berlin either. If
you have any difficulties, please, send me word. Now, I will
send your family back to you at the end of the year. If war
comes, keep them safe here."


"I will, sir," Jakob assured him. Westermann extended his hand
and shook Jakob's firmly. With a tip of the head he brought the
conversation to an end.


---------------------------------------------------------------


Katalin and their two sons were to return to Germany with the
ex-Governor. They were to spend a year there before returning.
Katalin had been excited for weeks. At 18 she had spend most of
her life in Samoa and remembered little of her home country.
Their nanny Qing Li, and Jakob's occasional mistress, was to go
with them to assist with the children.


As the 'Cap Trafalgar' entered Apia, Jakob realised he was
going to miss his family. Katalin irritated him frequently with
her endless chatter about nothing-in-particular. Her privileged
life here in Samoa had bred a haughtiness, maybe an arrogance
towards those less fortunate. To Jakob, the son of a shoemaker,
it kindled a deep-seated resentment towards those who by
accident of birth, assumed a superior attitude.


But despite that, he had grown used to his pretty young wife
and little children. Did that mean he loved her? He still didn't
know for sure.


As a fraudster, he had always at the back of his mind a plan of
escape should he be exposed. The fraudster cannot afford to root
himself too fully because the next day he might have to flee
into the night. Emotionally he had to hold himself aloof. No
ties, nothing holding him anywhere, that is how it must be.
Carefully, he had opened bank accounts in other countries under
other assumed names. Making sure that he had a means to set
himself up elsewhere should he need to.


But like it or not, he *had* an emotional attachment to the
Samoan Islands. He regarded it as his home. Russia was merely a
distant nightmare filled with bad memories. As he strolled the
deck of the 'Cap Trafalgar' he began to take on a new confidence
about the future. He had *needed* to tell someone about his real
identity. To have a fellow conspirator in Westermann seemed to
make the burden lighter.


He had asked the Cap's 1st Officer if he could take a tour of
the ship. As usual, he wanted to meet the crew and see the
boiler and engine rooms. As the Officer, Mueller, conducted him
around the decks, he noticed peculiar round constructions, two
on each side of the ship. Strange wooden structures, like
upturned drums about two feet high appeared out of place and he
asked Mueller about them. The Officer was evasive, which fueled
Jakob's suspicions.


There was a little too much spit-and-polish about some of the
crew, Jakob observed. He was sure there was a fair number of
Naval reservists on the lower deck. Visiting the engine room, he
saw two immense triple expansion engines, one each on the outer
shafts, and a Germania Werft high-speed steam turbine on the
middle shaft. This baby was built for speed, he decided. Perhaps
25/26 knots with all boilers firing?


As he returned the the passenger deck, it suddenly dawned on
him the purpose for the strange constructions on the deck. They
were gun platforms. It chilled him.


He knew Russia had been building passenger steamships for years
that could be easily converted into commerce raiders in time of
war. But with Russia, the expedient had been chiefly economic,
she was unable to construct enough suitable warships compared to
Britain, France and Germany.


But Russia had no overseas possessions to defend. Her raiding
fleet was designed to interfere with a sea-going power. One who
depended on sea-born commerce, such as Great Britain. However
now, as close allies of France, who were in alliance with
Britain, the threat of a Russian/British conflict was unlikely.


If Germany was now building easily-convertable merchant ships
for commerce raiding, they too must be designed for a future war
with such a sea-going power. Should war come then what of Samoa?
The map of the world was pink with the British Empire. German
possessions were far-flung and impossible to defend. Australia,
New Zealand, Malaya, Singapore, Hong Kong all had detachments of
the Royal Navy. Germany had but a small squadron at Tsingtao in
China. Clearly Samoa would be on her own.


The only hope for the islands was the good sense of Imperial
politicians. That, through experience, could not be relied upon.


--------------------------------------------------------------


Katalin and her parents had adjoining suites in the first class
area. Katalin's accomodated her children and their Nanny as
well. She was on her own unpacking when Jakob came to say
goodbye.


She was dressed fashionably, her long dress was tight to her
body, the hem a good foot from the floor. Frilly blouses were
'de rigeur' for women nowadays. Katalin's was faced with Belgian
lace with the top two buttons undone in deference to the heat.


"What do you thing would be suitable for the Captain's table
tonight?" she asked him, "I'm to be seated next to Suzann von
Dalwyg zu Liechtenfels y'know. Her Father is a General in the
Prussian Cavalry. I must keep up with her, I can't be put to
shame." Jakob smiled indulgently. 'If that is all she had to
worry about. Having her clothes sense shown up by some spoiled,
silver-spoon-fed Prussian Junker's daughter...'


"I'd pick the burgundy one," he told her, "that you got for
Christmas. That New York number. I bet the Prussians haven't
cottoned on to America yet."


"No, they wouldn't have!" Katalin replied, excited, "you're so
clever. Yes, the burgundy it shall be. And the jewelry?"


"Pearls, obviously," Jakob advised, "with the emerald and
diamond cluster brooch. Simple yet elegant!"


"Not gold? On burgundy?"


"Too heavy, far too heavy and showy. *Real* money go for
simplicity. Only the middle classes wear gold these days." Jakob
grinned. In three years he knew what to say to his wife. 


She rushed to her hardwood and mother-of pearl-inlaid jewelry
box and plucked out the pearl necklace. Holding it up to her
neck, she asked Jakob to do it up for her. Moving behind her as
she stood in front of the full-length mirror, he fastened the
clasp and remained. Her long neck invited attention. He pushed
aside her hair and nudged it with his lips. Watching her in the
mirror, he saw her smile fetchingly. She adjusted the necklace
around her throat and turned this way and that, seeking the
light.


"Perfect!" he pronounced, running his fingertips over the
pearls, "and a perfect setting." Katalin bounced on her heels
excitedly. The Mother of two children, she was after all only 18
years old.


"I can't wait for tonight," she babbled, "Mama said we'd be
setting sail at three. Do you suppose there'll be a Ball
tonight?"


"I don't know," Jakob said, kindly, "perhaps it will say on the
Passenger information?"


"Oh that's too much to read," she told him, "it's over there on
the dresser. Really, it's the size of the Bible!"


"Allow me," Jakob replied, "I'll fetch it."


"No, don't go yet!" she said hurriedly, "will you miss me? I'll
be gone for a whole year. Willi will be three when he next sees
his Papa."


"Every hour, every minute of the day," Jakob assured her. His
hands fell to her waist and held her lightly around her tummy.


"You'll have Asmira!" she told him, accusingly. "You'll
probably have her with child before I get home again. Or someone
new perhaps?"


"And you?" he replied, "perhaps you'll find some English Lord,
or some bored young Prussian Graf. Hung like a donkey, he'll set
you up in some Mayfair mansion and..."


"Oh don't talk like that," she chided, "you're so crude
when..." Jakob stopped her mid-sentence with a kiss to the lips.


"How long till 'visitors ashore'?" he murmured into her neck.


"Perhaps it's in Passengers information?" she answered with no
hint of irony.


"I think an hour before sailing," he decided, "that gives us...
2 hours, by my watch."


"For?" she asked.


"For saying goodbye," he told her. Pulling her towards the bed,
he asked her where the children were.


"With Nanny Qing, at the swimming pool or the nursery, why?"


"And your parents?"


"The saloon, no doubt. Papa doesn't like sea voyages. He needs
a bit of... Prussian courage he calls it." Jakob didn't think
Westermann needed much excuse to get tanked, but he didn't tell
his wife that. Instead he continued to pull her towards the bed.


"We can't!" her eyes suddenly widened, "not here. It's too,
too... public, I mean..."


"Public?" he queried, "the door has a lock, no? The public has
a habit of visiting your cabin?" he grinned.


"No. The blinds, Feodor!" she complained.


"It's a private promenade outside," he assured her, "no-one can
see but the fishes. Come, lie down!" He pushed her so she fell
backwards over the bed. She looked back at him with a mixture of
surprise and anticipation. Jakob pushed up her dress to her
knees and slipped his hands underneath. Sliding up her smooth
thighs, he cupped her bottom before pulling at her panties. He
fell on her exposed pussy with his tongue.


Still mindful of being discovered, Katalin pushed her dress
down over Jakob's head. Shrouded in her tight garment he found
it hard to spread her knees wide enough. He roughly pushed the
dress back up, Katalin resisted, but Jakob won. Hooking her legs
over his shoulders, he eased her onto her back, legs in the air.


"Feodor!" she protested. However, Jakob ignored her. Her
complaints became weaker, she breathed heavily with arousal.
"Feodor, be quick, then," she told him. With two hours, Jakob
had every intention of taking his time.


Releasing his cock, he pushed quickly into her while standing
on the floor beside the high bed. Pushing back her legs so she
was trapped as he leaned over her, he commenced a slow stroke.
She squeezed him the way he liked, her pussy had grown very
talented over the years.


"Be quick!" she wimpered. Jakob, however, still ignored her.


"Over!" he ordered. She quickly complied, still complaining.
Jakob pulled her legs back over the edge of the bed and entered
her from behind.


"Oh," she cried, "hurry... Oh Feodor! Someone will come... oh..."


Jakob held her firmly by her shapely hips as he maintained a
steady, but slow rhythm. The sight of his pretty young wife,
helpless and growing more afraid of discovery was powerfully
erotic. He wanted to tease, wanted to make her frantic and
desperate.


"Do you like this?" he asked her.


"Don't be vulgar!" she chided, "Oh... uh... hurry!"


Jakob gave her a stinging slap on her buttock. She jerked in
pain, her vaginal muscles spasmed, squeezing his hard cock.


"OW! Don't! Please!"


"Then answer my question!" he insisted.


"No... OW, stop it!" Jakob slapped her again, this time on the
other cheek. He paused, grinding himself against her to retain
his erection. Katalin wriggled her arse back at him, clenching
and unclenching her pussy. Jakob hummed with the feeling.


"Do you like this?" he asked her again.


"No, I won't..." she started to say, "no! Don't hit me again,
please, don't be mean!" she pleaded.


"Answer!"


"Ok, ok... yes," she said finally.


"How much?"


She started to protest again, but stopped herself as Jakob
raised his hand.


"I like it... very much," she told him in a subdued voice,
"now, can we just do it!" Jakob pulled almost all the way out,
then slammed hard back into her. Katalin gasped, cried out in
surprise and excitement.


He caressed her sweet pale bottom, now sporting a nice red hand
mark on each cheek. He checked his watch, then continued a slow
steady stroke, achingly slow. Katalin tried to push back, tried
to persuade him to go faster. But Jakob held her arse in his
hands and continued to tantalise her.


"Beast!" 


Jakob laughed, slammed her again, then proceeded slowly. She
gasped again, then groaned in frustration.


"Up on the bed!" he commanded, "hands and knees, come on!" he
ordered. Growling, she complied.


"For God's sake, Feodor!"


Jakob stood, came around to the other side of the bed and slid
between his wife's arms, head first.


"What are you doing now?" she whined.


"Dress off!" he ordered, and pulled the bunched up garment down
over her flanks until it was around her knees. He shuffled down
till he was underneath her gaping sex. Holding her bottom, he
attacked it with his tongue once more. Shivering, Katalin took
his cock in her fist and lowered her mouth to it.


"Feodor, you know I don't like doing this when... oh! Uh...
baby!"


She sucked noisily on him, grinding her pussy against his
tongue. Mouth full, she could only moan in her throat. After
maybe five minutes, Katalin took her mouth of him, puffing and
gasping with lust.


"Feodor, please... uh... do me... oh... with this, please!"


He pushed her onto her back, legs in the air, and fell between
her thighs. His wife was red-faced, breathing heavily, and her
arms reached up to pull him down.


"Do it... fuck me!" she moaned to him in a hushed, intimate
voice. As he entered her again, her legs came over to lock over
his back. She thrust herself desperately against him. Jakob
stroked rapidly into his wife, rolling against her pubic bone in
the way he knew she liked. Katalin gasped and wailed, clung to
his back and pulled him down harder still.


Katalin finally came while Jakob held her face in front of him.
She clenched her teeth, grimaced and howled out her pleasure.
Jakob pumped into her while holding her head to his cheek
listening to her gasping and moaning.


"You will have no cock but mine," he told her, his softening
erection still buried deep in her teenage pussy.


"No, Feodor, of course not!" she told him emphatically.


If Jakob was aware of the hypocracy, it didn't occur to him at
that moment. Men erred occasionally, but a wife was a wife. That
was the way of it in 1911.


Afterwards they emerged from the cabin smiling and leaning upon
one another. Jakob played with his children a while, said an
emotional farewell to the Governor and his wife, his friends. He
gave Katalin a final embrace before stepping down the ladder to
the shore ferry. 


He stood on Apia's dock for half an hour watching the smoke
from the 'Cap Trafalgar' trail off into the horizon. It reminded
him of a similar moment some 6 years before at Nossi Be' in
French Madagascar. That time, however, he knew the ship would
never return.


----------------------------------------------------------------


That night Asmira came to him unbidden. Casually she tucked
herself into bed next to him. They didn't talk, nor make love,
but Jakob was grateful for the comfort of her warm body.


Mid-morning the next day, Jakob paid a call on the new
Governor, von Goeltz. The atrium of Government house had
changed. Two desks sat efficiently side by side, one occupied by
a bespectacled, small, weasel bearing an impressive waxed
moustache. The other by a severe-looking, spinstery woman with
her hair tied in a bun. She banged enthusiastically on an
immense 'Viktoria' typewriter. The tapping sounded like the
staccato drumming of a military parade ground. They both
studiously ignored Jakob when he entered. He stood directly in
front of the weasel until he peered over his specs at him.


"Yes?" he said in a irritated voice.


"Count Politovsky to see the Governor!" Jakob said in a
peremptory manner, annoyed at the man's disinterest.


"You have an appointment?" he asked, shuffling his papers.


"I need one?" Jakob asked.


"Of course. The Governor is a very busy man."


If he was busy Jakob wondered why. He never noticed Westermann
busy at anything unless it was a bottle of Cognac. Just then,
the office door swung wide. There in the doorway was a tall,
erect, bull of a man, fully 6 feet high, and wearing high
cavalry boots. His white uniform was correct in every detail and
must have been uncomfortably hot in Samoa's climate.


"Who's this?" he snapped at the weasel, who immediately jumped
to his feet.


"A Count Politovsky, Governor, so he says," the weasel replied.


The Governor spoke German with a clipped, precise Prussian
accent. 


"Ah Count!" the Governor looked at Jakob and extended his hand.
His heels clicked with the slight nod of the head. "We must get
together," he continued, "I want to get to know all the leading
citizens. I suggest a formal dinner, say, next Saturday?
Gretchen you will prepare the invitations?"


"Of course, Governor," the woman replied.


"Your servant." The Governor nodded at Jakob then spun on his
heels back through the door. It closed with a loud bang. The
weasel subsided slowly back into his seat, a smug expression on
his face. He bent his head back to his stack of papers leaving
Jakob to conclude the meeting was over.


'So this is the new regime?' Jakob thought as he climbed back
into his motor car, 'Prussian efficiency, forms, secretaries and
red tape. God help us all!' His Chinese chauffeur/footman
cranked the Mercedes into action and mounted the driver's seat.


"Home Joseph!" he ordered, and the car bumped and ground it's
way out of Apia down the coast road.


--------------------------------------------------------------


The invitation arrived that afternoon, neatly poster-scripted
with copperplate-style pen and ink. It was delivered by a Samoan
Sergeant of Police. 'So the man gets the police force to deliver
his mail,' Jakob sighed. A letter from the Governor accompanied
the RSVP. After explaining the nature of the 'get together'
dinner, there was attached a personal note to Jakob.


'I understand, Herr Count, that your wife is currently
overseas. As it is expected, nay required, that a partner
accompany you, perhaps you might consider my typist Gretchen as
a suitable substitute. She is from a good Brandenburg family and
most respectable. The woman's husband was killed in the service
of the Kaiser in the campaign against the Mafiti. Her husband
was a fine Officer of Marines and I have taken particular
interest in his widow's welfare. I look forward to your answer
and hope it is in the affirmative. Yours, General Armin von
Goeltz, Superintendant and Governor of the German colony of
Samoa.'


"Whew!" Jakob said aloud. Clearly he had to agree if for
nothing else, the establishment of a good relationship with the
authorities. In his mind, he had been thrown a key to the
Governor's good books. If he could charm this widow, and she was
of 'special interest' to von Goeltz, then...


Jakob's recollection of the woman was a rather dumpy, plain
person, her features made severe by her conservative hair style.
She was almost completely obscured by her typewriter. In his
mind's eye Jakob couldn't get the massive machine out of way of
her.


However, all female humans interested Jakob at some level. He
often found himself mentally undressing every female on the main
street of Apia. He particularly like the Samoan women. Often big-
boned and early developers, he sometimes wondered what it would
be like to bed one of them. A tall handsome race the Samoans,
very polite and usually of happy disposition. The villages
around Apia, though, were under the sway of the missionaries. In
the outer islands and in the remoter areas of Savai'i, the main
island, it was said the Islander's morals were a lot looser.
Every woman, however, seemed to have a dozen strong male
relatives, and those relatives were very handy spear-fisherman.
Jakob shivered at the gruesome thought.


'My dear Governor,' Jakob wrote, "it would be a pleasure to
accompany such an honourable lady to your soiree'. Please extend
to the lady Gretchen my sincere regrets over the news of the
passing of her husband and my admiration at his feats of
heroism. If there is one small thing I may do to lighten her
burden, then surely I cannot refuse. Yours, Count Feodor
Politovsky, Honourary Envoy and Charge d'affairs for the Tsar of
All the Russias.


Jakob wondered for a moment whether he had gone over the top,
considered altering it, then decided to send it as is. He longed
already for the easy informality of Westermann's Governorship.


-------------------------------------------------------


Jakob had been taking a less and less direct role in the
running of South Pacific Trading AG. The Company had been listed
on the Stock Exchange in Berlin with a board of Directors and
Jakob as Chairman. But by the end of 1910, Jakob had
relinquished his position, cashed up 15% of his shares and went
into semi-retirement. He still retained an 'advisory' role
however.


After five years he had begun to lose interest in the comapny.
Jakob desperately wanted something else to do. It didn't matter
that much whether it was profitable, Jakob had more than enough
money, so long as it was new and interesting.


In June last year he ordered a 30 metre, three masted, topsail
schooner with an auxiliary steam engine and 'lifting screw'. It
was being built in an Australian yard and was due for completion
in a month's time. The 'lifting screw' was a propellor that
could be raised clear of the water when not in use. This enabled
the yacht to take full advantage of sail power without the drag
of the propellor through the water.


Jakob had a name for it, the 'Borodino'. He didn't know what
quirk of his psychology made him choose the name of his old
ship. Perhaps some deep-seated guilt? Was he being blase? Or
just some kind of bizarre joke? Jakob didn't know, he just
thought it suited.


On Saturday Jakob dressed himself in his formal, albeit
tropical suit. Around his chest her wore the white/blue/red sash
of a representative of Imperial Russia. His driver deposited him
outside of the Council meeting hall that was to serve as the
venue. Two blue-coated Samoan Policemen snapped to attention
outside as he mounted the steps. The prussian blue jackets were
matched by their island lavalavas around their waists, all
recent innovations of the new Governor.


He spotted Gretchen among the throng of dignatories on the
other side of von Goeltz and his wife. Acknowledging the
greetings of the fortunate invitees it took Jakob some number of
minutes to make his way over to his escort. With a civil nod of
the head, he extended his hand to the lady with one of his
winning smiles.


She returned his smile warily, received his hand civilly but
without any warmth. Jakob concluded she'd be a hard nut to
crack. She was dressed in white, a long dress brushed the
parquet floor and buttoned to the collar. A fir wrap completed
the ensemble, strangely inapropriate in Samoa's balmy tropical
night. Nestled around her neck was an ornate damascene pendant
in the shape of the German eagle. 


"Were you a military man, Herr Count?" she asked, her voice
rasped and growled to his ears. Now used to the German accent,
she nevertheless reminded him of a drill Sergeant.


"Navy, Madam," Jakob replied.


"Ah, Russian?" Jakob nodded.


"I thought so," she told him, "you carry yourself well, like an
Officer. My husband Paul often dined with the Russians when they
visited Danzig. Do you know Danzig, Herr Count?"


"We called there briefly, in '04," he replied.


"Ah, the Baltic fleet!" her eyes widened, "Sorry business.
Those Japs, it wasn't right... against white people. Personally
I blame the English. Never trust the English, Herr Count, an
untrustworthy island. The diet, Herr Count, that is the problem,
not enough red meat. Never trust a people who don't eat red
meat..." She continued on in the same vein until Jakob's head
spun. He thought it was going to be a long night.


He wondered about the woman's age. If her husband was killed in
the Mafiti war, that would be about 1897/98. That means, he
thought, she'd be in her late thirties at least. Of course that
depends on whether she was married in her early 20s. 


They sat down to dine at two long tables. There was silver
service provided by an army of Chinese waiters. To Gretchen's
questions, Jakob told the same tale that had stood him in good
stead since stepping off the Thuringia. He had been an officer
on the 'Alexander the Third,' became dangerously ill with
Malaria while the fleet waited at Nossi Be'. He was left behind
and ultimately invalided out of the service.


After dinner, the men retired outside to smoke cigars, discuss
business, and belt down schnapps by the shot glass.


"You had much to talk about," von Goeltz told Jakob. Jakob
thought he detected the merest hint of an ironic smile.


"The lady Gretchen has many original ideas," Jakob told him.


"Quite!" he agreed. "A Navy man?" he asked.


"Yes, Governor, the Alexander..."


"Poor gunnery!" von Goeltz said shaking his head, "What was
your speciality?"


"Gunnery."


"Ah!" the Governor said, chuckling. "We may have need of
gunnery Officers soon, Count. But not I think, Russian ones."
The weasel standing next to his boss laughed with a high-pitched
cackle. Jakob's dignity was all that stood in the way of
punching the man.


----------------------------------------------------------


By midnight, the party was starting to break up. Gretchen found
Jakob, much to his chagrin, in the garden of Government House
talking to a couple of estate owners. She hooked her arm under
his and asked if he could escort her back to the house.


"Thank you, Count for you kindness in partnering me tonight. I
appreciate it," she said as they walked slowly up the limed
walkway.


"Feodor, madam."


"Feodor, ah! Theo, that was my Father's name. You must call me
Gretchen," she told him, "'Madam' seems so... formal, don't you
think?"


"Gretchen then," Jakob agreed.


"Your wife is German, I believe?"


"Yes, from Koblenz."


"Ah, the Rheinland! Far too French for my liking. And you from
St Petersburg? Far too cold. You are very gentlemanly for a
Russian, Feodor. I find the Russians are either peacocks or
vulgar peasants, but you are an exception. You carry yourself...
ah... erect. I like that in a man!"


Jakob was at a lost for words. He smiled weakly at the woman,
unsure of where the conversation was leading.


"Perhaps you would like to take tea with me one Sunday
afternoon. Would tomorrow be too soon?"


"Not at all, Gretchen." he replied.


"Good!" she breathed heavily, "then it's settled. Tomorrow at
three." She turned to face him. Staring at his chin, she shook
his hand warmly and again thanked him for the evening. "And,"
she added, "if there's anything I might do for you during your
wife's absence. Please don't hesitate to ask." 


Jakob was again thrown by her conversation. Unsure of what she
was meaning he looked into her eyes and found a look of absolute
innocence. She bobbed and retreated into the house, leaving
Jakob puzzled and intrigued, especially intrigued.


KATZMAREK (C)
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