Sianksey’S Snake

Copyright © 2013 by Ric Smit.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 12/09/2013

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CONTENTS

Prologue: The History of a Life Boat

October 1940

January 1943

March 1954

Chapter 1: (Extracts from ‘Sea Shell’ Journal)

A haunted lifeboat

Chapter 2: (Extracts from ‘Sea Shell’ Journal)

Chapter 3: (Four Years Later)

Kalahari van Straaten and the junk ‘Stella Maris’—September 2013

October 2013

October—November 2013

November 2013

Chapter 4: (Extracts from ‘Sea Shell’ Journal)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Adjunct—Glossary of Terms Used

PROLOGUE

The History of a Life Boat

October 1940

The year was 1940, the ‘Cormorant’, a non-descript Norwegian coaster sailing under a Panamanian flag slowly made her way north along the Danish coast. On the bridge, there was a group of men of which only two stood out, the helmsman and the officer of the watch. The others kept to the shadows near the back wall of the bridge. One of them said: Don’t look now, but, there is a periscope off to starboard I’m sure we are being watched. The First Officer, Frederick Herman Koster, moved up next to the helmsman as if to check the compass course the man was steering, he nodded his head and with a casual glance, he walked over to the window and pretended to look down at the coaster’s boat deck. After a short inspection, he returned to the centre of the bridge and while lightening a smoke he addressed the helmsman but his remarks were directed towards the other men as well: If that kraut was another fifty yards away we would not be able to see his periscope cutting the water. One of the others said: What are we going to do? What can we do? Officially we are Panamanian, our papers show that we are under contract to the German High Command, and that we are carrying classified cargo from Rotterdam to Oslo. One of the others had been watching the U-boat’s periscope and said with a doom-laden voice: Fred, you better get ready for a visit, the sub is coming up. OK, you lot know what to do I better go and get the captain! Two men disappeared down an internal stairwell while the First Officer came down from the bridge using the outside stairs on the starboard side. When he reported to the captain that a sub had surfaced near their ship, the captain asked: Have they made radio contact? No, not so far. Good, that means they do not want anybody to know they are looking at us. Keep course and speed until such time that they make their intentions clear, then protest mildly but give in; after all, supposedly, we have nothing to hide. If they do send a boarding party make it obvious that you do not wish to disturb me but eventually call me. The First Officer gave his captain a cheesy grin and said: Sure Skipper. With that, he turned around and made his way up to the bridge. It was not long before the U-boat was on the surface it was small and clearly not one of the machines that made up the wolf packs. It looked old but still well cared for. After the water had drained from the sub’s bridge deck, some officers showed their heads over the top of the conning tower coaming. By this time most of the ‘Cormorant’s’ regular crew—there were only four in the deck crew—had come on deck to see what was going on and Fred went out onto the open bridge wing and stared at the German. One of the sub’s officers spoke through a loudhailer and ordered the coaster to stop for an inspection. The officer of the watch shouted back in Spanish that he could not understand the order. Who does this young upstart think he is? Let’s see how he handles confusion! The I can only speak Spanish ploy was a pre-arranged signal that brought the strongest and meanest member of the crew, a man two metres tall with biceps bigger than most men’s thighs, into play. Samoa, that was his name, relayed the message to the First Officer in Spanish. Samoa was told to report to the bridge so he could translate but then it became evident that although Samoa spoke good Spanish, his German was shaky and it took quite some time to establish the fact that personnel from the U-boat wished to inspect the coastal freighter. It took another ten minutes of confused negotiation before the officer of the watch understood that he was ordered, in the name of the Fuhrer, to slow the ‘Cormorant’ to steerage speed. Meanwhile two members of the U-boat crew were inflating a rubber dinghy on deck. Once the dinghy was inflated the young officer climbed down from the conning tower and the three nearly swamped the dinghy in their attempts to get in the dinghy. The officer, a very young one, sat in the middle while his two underlings paddled and struggled to keep the dinghy from spinning around like a top. All in all, not a very dignified or impressive transfer. Once on-board the young lieutenant tried to recoup lost face and to establish the superiority of the German Reich by drawing his Luger and waving it about. His two underlings stood at the railing with their stubby submachine guns slung across their chests and their right hand on the pistol grip and trigger—nobody was going to steal their rubber ducky! Not that anybody would want to. What was a bit more alarming was that another couple of German matelots had pulled the cork, or whatever, out of the barrel of the cannon on the foredeck of the sub and were pointing it at the ‘Cormorant’. A slug from that thing at such close range would do some serious damage.

A long and painful exchange between the German U-boat officer, Samoa, and the First Officer, went something like this:

German: Your last port of call?

Samoa: I think he wanna know where we’s from.

First Officer: Rotterdam

German: What is your destination?

First Officer to Samoa: What’s he want?

Samoa: Where we is going.

First Officer: Oh, Oslo.

German: Where is your captain?

First Officer: Huh?

Samoa: Who is Boss?

First Officer: Tell him I’m the boss!

As The First Officer, Fred made his reply curt, authoritative and short tempered. Samoa played up to him and adopted the attitude of a man who had translated the question against his better judgement. The young German officer understood all about; intimidation, rankings, and placing on the social ladder. He recognised the How dare you! in the First Officer’s voice and the subservient expression and tone of Samoa. After another half hour of misinterpretation, miss direction and frustrations, the First Officer allowed the order, which by now had become a request, to become understood. The German wanted to see the ship’s papers and loading manifests. While Samoa escorted the German onto the bridge, Fred went below to the captain’s cabin to collect the ship’s papers and loading manifests. He knocked on the cabin door and the captain hurriedly dragged him inside. What’s going on? Why did it take you so long to come and get me? Well, actually, Skipper, I did not come to get you but the ship’s papers and the loading manifests. The Kraut thinks I’m the Skipper. Huh? Why the deception? Because I have the distinct impression that that Kraut has a better idea of what is in those sealed German High Command crates than what we have. My guess is that after inspecting the documents he will declare them false and, at gunpoint, demand that we tranship the cargo onto his sub. After that he will sink the ‘Cormorant’ and most likely with us in it. Any enquiry, if there is one, will report us missing, probably the victims of a floating sea-mine. So, why keep me out of it? Fred was silent for a while, how could he tell the old captain that ever since he knew him he had seen in him the father he never had. The old sea captain by his example had taught him that in this dog eat dog world there were more dogs content to lay in the sun than there were dogs eating other dogs. By the same token, he learned from the old man that the ship’s crew was family and dogs always protect those they care for. His voice was pensive when he answered: You and I have worked together for a great many years. During that time I have come to know you as a good and honest man and I am not about to let some jumped up Nazi fanatic kill you because he does not like the look of the false papers you produce even though they were falsified by his own people. Besides, what about our illegal passengers? What about them? You got two of your brothers and the daughter of another brother here on board. Not only is it my understanding that those men are important to the war effort but, by God man, they are family, real family! Save them if you can. I have no family so if that Kraut wants to put a bullet into me just to prove a point, let him try. I’m not saying that I agree with your notions or sentiments but tell me what you want to do before I tell you it won’t work. For a moment, Fred watched as the captain collected the ship papers and the German High Command dossier, and then he said: I’ve already sent two of the crew to prepare the port-side lifeboat. The boat is stocked with water and food and extra blankets as well as navigation gear. Your brothers and niece were told to sneak into the lifeboat and hide under the cover. I suggest that as soon as I go back to the bridge you join them. Shouldn’t the captain go down with his ship? Only if he wants to commit suicide or if it is his fault the ship is going down! Hmm! Anyway, what makes you think that the German will consider the papers false? Do they look right to you? I don’t know, they look a bit cheap and shabby, but then again, it is war-time and things are scarce. Yeah well, take a look at this eagle, the bloody bird is back to front and so is the swastika it perches on. Somebody got his negatives and positives mixed up while copying one of their rubber stamps. Hmm, you are right! I say that is a bit careless! That should qualify the copier and the printer for a one way, all expenses paid, trip to Siberia. Whoever prepared those documents may have wanted to warn us that not all is apple-strudel und sauerkraut. It also means that Heinrich up top is going to feel justified in confiscating our cargo. Yes, but would he be prepared to sink us, a Panamanian vessel? If he is on the up and up, he will call us dumkopf for not realising that the papers are false and then he might let us go. But, if our boy has plans that the top brass don’t know about, as I suspect he has, he will most definitely make sure we are not going to talk about it either in the harbour taverns or some stalag! After a long pause, the captain nodded his grey head and with a sigh asked: What have you got in mind? You know that wooden lifeboat the stevedores gave us to replace the one that got shot up in the last encounter with Jerry? The one on the portside? Hmm. I don’t know where they got it from but it is the most sound and well-built life boat I’ve ever seen. Solid, and of a good size. It has no engine so the Krauts are less likely to want it for themselves. It has a tarpaulin cover that can stay in place as the boat is being lowered. What I suggest is that you, your brothers and your niece, hide under the tarp in the boat and then, if the need arises I’ll get Daan and Jan to lower the boat. Once it is in the water they can jump in after it as well and join you as crew. What about the rest of the crew and you? Don’t worry, we’ll give em something to think about. Besides, we still got the motor launch on the starboard side. The sub is on that side as well and they may not even see you depart because they’ll be as busy as hell, transhipping the cargo as quickly as possible in case somebody comes flying over.

Just then there was a loud knocking on the cabin door. It was Samoa and he called in a dramatic voice and loud enough for Neptune to hear him: Skipper, the Kraut wants you to hurry! I thinks he wanna go potty. With a big grin, Fred replied: Tell him to hold his water, I’m on my way. On a premonition the First Officer motioned the captain to stand where the opening cabin door would hide him from anybody standing in the passageway. Just as well he did, because it was not only Samoa waiting for him but also one of the German sailors complete with sub-machine gun. The First Officer seemed clumsy and had problems controlling the files and dossiers he was carrying. He nearly dropped them and had it not been for Samoa coming across, and blocking the German’s view into the cabin, the First Officer would not only have tripped over the raised doorsill but he would have lost his hold on the all-important manifests. The rolling of the ship swung the cabin door closed before the German could have a gander inside. He looked at the cabin door and saw the brass plate with the word Captain engraved on it. Apparently that was all the proof he needed so he stood aside and waved on Fred and Samoa. Back on the bridge it did not take the German officer long to declare the paperwork false. Through a long and painful German-Spanish-German translation session, the abridged version of the exchange went something like this. The German, almost at once, declared the paper-work false. The Captain was not overly concerned and stated that he had accepted the cargo and the manifests in good faith the more so because the freight was paid in advance. The U-boat commander then demanded a visual inspection of the cargo. That was no problem and he was led into the hold where the crates were stored. At first he appeared somewhat over-awed by the number of seals plastered all over the crates but after a short while he demanded that one be opened for his inspection. This the Captain refused on the grounds that the crates were sealed and only contained articles of a non-aggressive nature but with historical value and that it was a stipulation in his contract that the crates would be delivered with the seals intact. A long and at times heated argument followed. On occasion Fred had to turn away to hide a smile because he could speak fluent German and Samoa only spoke a little and some of his translations were as far off the mark as Berlin is from Paris, but they allowed time to pass and helped to frustrate the enemy. In the end Fred felt he no longer could string along the U-boat officer. With ill grace, he gave in by saying: We will follow you to the nearest port where you can unload our cargo provided a properly authorised officer of the High Command is present to give us a letter outlining what has happened and absolving us of any further obligations in this matter. And, by the way, there is no refund on the freight.

Didn’t Samoa have some fun translating that lot!

The German was somewhat taken aback and began to rant and rave about the inefficiencies of the folk ashore. Here he was on a secret mission somewhere on the Engl . . . Atlantic Ocean and some bloody bureaucrat sends him a radio message ordering him to intercept the ‘Cormorant’, board the vessel and transfer the High Command cargo onto his sub! Gone is the secrecy of his movements, and his whereabouts, and, to top it all off, the ‘Cormorant’ demands that the exchange take place in a port After another lengthy tirade, the First Officer quietly suggested: As you know we are neutral and therefore not your enemy and I could make a suggestion that may get you out of this predicament. Oh yes? And what would that be? We both continue our journeys, you to the Atlantic, and me to Oslo. Then say tomorrow morning you radio in that you were not able to find the ‘Cormorant’. I will send out a general broadcast that our compass is malfunctioning so we are making our way closer to the coast and have just sighted this head-land. While Fred was speaking, he led the German over to the chart table where he now pointed at a headland some hundred miles further north. After some thought the U-boat man shook his head: That will not work! Your crew would tell the story in the first quay-side pub they would get to. The First Officer gave him a long and hard look and remarked There is a saying that goes something like this: The innkeeper trusts his guests only as far as he can trust himself. Samoa’s translation although accurate in context was too rude to be repeated here. The German glared hellfire at Fred but after a while he snarled: You will give me pen and paper and I will write the letter. Then you will transfer the four crates onto my U-boat and there will be no further discussion on the matter. And that is telling you! Samoa added to the translation. The First Officer gave the necessary orders to have the covers removed from the forward hold where the crates were located, and then he presented the U-boat officer with pen and paper. Next he winked at Samoa who walked out onto the bridge wing and shouted a few words in his own, Samoan, language at a member of the crew standing about on deck. The German turned to the First Officer and demanded in German: What is that man saying? It was on the tip of his tongue to answer but right at the last moment Fred realised, that to give the German a translation was tantamount to signing his own death warrant seeing as how he, supposedly, could not speak or understand German. To hide his near slip, he shrugged his shoulders and went out on the bridge wing to watch two deck hands working on the forward hold hatch covers. The ‘Cormorant’ had slowed down until she had nearly no steerage at all and the helmsman was fighting a constant battle with the rudder in trying to keep the ship and the sub more or less parallel. However, very deviously, he brought the ‘Cormorant’ around to head into wind and waves. By doing this the sub no longer lay in the lee of the freighter and the two German gunners on the foredeck of their U-boat were constantly doused in splashes and spindrift of the waves breaking over the foredeck. Every now and then, a larger wave would roll along the deck soaking the gunners up to their knees. Those boys were catching a cold for the Fatherland. After some unusual clumsy delays at number one hold, the covers were finally removed and Samoa started to work one of the freighter’s derricks. The German came out on the bridge wing to oversee the transfer. The first crate was swinging like a pendulum over the side of the ‘Cormorant’ but not quite over the open hatch of the U-boat. By this time both vessels were facing into wind and sea and a nice steep and sloppy set of waves ran between the two hulls, those of the waves that got jammed between the two vessels tried to find the way of least resistance and that was over the deck of the sub. Those in the sub were not very happy about the situation as at regular intervals gallons of cold seawater would sail through the open deck hatch. After some very irate and abusive German language coming from the open hold, the young German officer thought it his place to abuse the ‘Cormorant’s’ helmsman. Our boy was throwing a tantrum and spittle sprayed from his mouth, hitting the helmsman in the face. Before Fred could intervene, the helmsman barked at the German and in understandable German at that: What is your goddamn problem! he stepped away from the helm and shouted: Here, you come and try to keep her steady at this speed and in this wind. Fear blazed from the eyes of the German lieutenant; apparently he was better at giving abuse then at taking it. In a reflective action he reached for the helm but Fred now arced up, in Spanish he shouted at the helmsman: What the hell are you doing? Are you handing over the ship to this Kraut!? The helmsman pushed the German out of the way and grabbed the helm once more. To keep the charade going, Fred shouted: What did he say? What did he want? He berated me for letting the ‘Cormorant’ come up into the wind so losing the shelter for his sub! Who does he think he is! I don’t have to take his shit! I am not in his fascist navy! And what did you tell him? That we are going too slow to keep her in position. Without another word Fred went over to the telegraph and rang for Slow Ahead, then he went over to the helm and yanked the wheel for a hard turn to starboard—the side where the sub was tied up. With the sudden increase in trust from the prop and the pressure of the rudder, ‘Cormorant’ turned to starboard. A few seconds later they could hear screams from the Germans on the deck of the U-boat, closely followed by the screech and scream of tortured metal. The German sprinted to the starboard wing of the bridge to see what had happened. Fred gave the helmsman a wink and a pat on the shoulder: Hang in there Daan, you’re doing fine. The man smiled back and gave the wheel another half spoke as Fred too went out onto the bridge wing for a look. What he saw was more than what he had expected; the bows of the ‘Cormorant’ had slid onto and over the bows of the sub. As a result the sub listed to port and her conning tower now leaned against the side of the ‘Cormorant’. Fred nearly burst out laughing when he saw one of the officers in the conning tower pushing with his hands against the slab sided ‘Cormorant’, probably in an attempt to right the sub. Next he spotted the two gunners up to their waists in the sea trying to waterproof their gun. The gun now was aimed at the ship’s side no more than a meter away. The German officer was dumbfounded and screamed in German: Turn the other way! Turn back! Turn to Port! The helmsman kept the charade going by translating the German’s words for Fred. The First Officer threw his hands in the air and said: Do as he wants. then walked out onto the starboard bridge wing. The sub was still caught by the bow and the forty-five degrees list to port still allowed hundreds of gallons of sea-water to pour into its holds. Following the German’s orders, the ‘Cormorant’ turned to port, this had the unfortunate result that the sub’s list further increased and more water rushed into the vessel. Meanwhile Samoa had swung the crate back in board and lowered it on deck. He ran back to the bridge and arrived just in time to see the German officer, who had well and truly lost the plot, aim his luger at the helmsman and at point-blank range shoot the man in the head. As the luckless soul fell to the deck, the German swung around and aimed his weapon at the First Officer, but before he could pull the trigger Samoa came up behind him and a massive hand closed around the German neck. With a flick of the wrist accompanied by the sound of breaking bone he broke the German’s neck. As Samoa let the body drop to the deck, Fred shouted: Go aft and make sure the captain and the others get away. What about you? Samoa asked on his way to the port side ladder from the bridge. Don’t worry about me! The rest of us will take the motor launch if we have to. Samoa stopped: What do you mean? We is not the one that is sinking. As Fred spun the helm hard to starboard and rang for Full-Ahead, he looked at Samoa with an evil grin: You don’t think that Jerry will now apologise for the delay and wish us a safe and speedy journey do you? Samoa did not have to answer because at that precise moment the cannon on the foredeck of the sub opened up and blew a big hole in the side of the ‘Cormorant’. Samoa with one jump slid down the ladder and made for the after deck to warn the passengers but they had already made their way to the lifeboat. Together with two other crewmen they got the boat down. Samoa told the other two to jump into the sea and to stay with the lifeboat; he was going back for the First Officer. He was just about to turn around the corner of the main deckhouse when the two sailors who had come aboard with the German officer showed a rare flash of initiative and opened up with their sub-machine guns. Samoa could not figure out what they were shooting at because by that time there was nobody left on deck. He folded his arms and made himself comfortable leaning against the steel wall of the deck house. By this time the two German sailors must have figured out that they were the only representatives of the Reich left because it was obvious that their fearless, young leader had bought it and could no longer be relied on to lead by example. What was even more frightening was that their home away from home was slowly but surely being sunk with all hands on-board except for themselves and their fearless leader who was presumably KIA. The rounds the sub’s cannon pumped into the innards of the ‘Cormorant’ had started a fire in the hold. The seawater rushing in did not put the fire out but floated burning objects into other parts of the hold where they found more fuel. Due to the fact that Fred had slammed the telegraph to Full Ahead and the helm to hard a starboard, ‘Cormorant’ did her best to leap-frog over the top of the U-boat. For some reason the German could not, or would not, or perhaps forgot to close the hatches over the hold of the sub. With a lot of grinding and screeching metal the sub was being rolled over onto her starboard beam and water flooded in through the hold as well as the hatch on the conning tower. The sub was rolled onto her back until her keel rubbed shoulders with the ‘Cormorant’s’ bilges and keel. Meanwhile the ‘Cormorant’ began to settle lower and lower in the water. She was going down. The two Germans on deck realised that they were the only ones left and still dry at that. They also came to the startling conclusion that as long as they kept spraying bullets they were not endearing themselves, and that could seriously reduce their chances for survival. After a short council of war—like a nod of each head to indicate an anonymous decision—they threw their weapons on the deck and raised their hands. When the shooting stopped Samoa came around the corner of the deckhouse and saw the two standing there with their hands up in the air, he walked over to them and snapped: What is you standing there for? Go and join your mates! He grabbed one of the men by the front of his jacket and lifted him off the deck. Samoa took a step towards the railing and was in the process of pushing the whimpering man over the side when a voice from the bridge stopped him: What are you doing Samoa? Do you want to live by the same Godless rules they live by? They have surrendered and are now prisoners-of-war. None to gentle Samoa dropped the man on the deck and turned to face Fred who had come out onto the bridge wing when the shooting had stopped. By this time the ‘Cormorant’ was down by the head with a bad list to port, there was no doubt that the small freighter was going down and the time had come to vacate the premises. After a moment’s thought, the First Officer shouted: All hands abandon ship! He already had spoken to the engine room and the chief engineer and his offsider were just climbing out of the engine room hatch. The engineer looked up at the First Officer and shouted: I hope you’re not counting on engine power for any length of time, the water is two feet high and rising. Fred smiled and said: I heard that song before! Chief take the men to the motor launch and see if you can launch it. Samoa go and make sure the other lifeboat got away, I’ll join you as soon as I can but don’t wait for me. Launch the boat and stand off until you see me in the water then pick me up but don’t endanger the others in the boat. OK, Boss but what about this pair? Take them with you they can do a spot of rowing, like from here to Oslo. But what about the others in the boat? With you there those two won’t be any problem, but, should they become more obnoxious than what they are