by Peter Watt
‘I think that Captain Macintosh may be planning to use it to fly over our east coast, sir,’ Hirsch countered. ‘That way we would have little warning of it being in our territory. I strongly suspect that they will take photographs from the air – if that is possible.’
‘It is,’ Pfieffer replied. ‘Our navy is examining ways to use aircraft with the fleet to provide early warning of enemy naval locations. It would assist an enemy to have detailed photographs of possible landing areas should they decide to invade.’
‘Would it be possible to have one of our cruisers offshore when the English send their ship?’ Hirsch asked.
‘I doubt that would be approved,’ Pfieffer replied. ‘It would be better to use your local gunboat to assist in our counter-operation rather than a cruiser. If we task a cruiser it might alert the English and they could cancel their operation. No, better we catch them in the act and embarrass the English before the rest of the world, show them up as a warmongering nation bent on destroying the peace that currently exists. The situation plays into our hands.’ Hirsch dutifully nodded. ‘I believe that you have a very good officers’ mess at the Rabaul Club, Herr Hauptmann,’ the senior officer said with a smile. ‘Shall we retire for the afternoon to avail ourselves of its comforts?’
Dieter Hirsch was surprised at the senior officer’s invitation. The man was a likeable type, not the autocratic Prussian type of soldier he was used to. ‘It would be an honour and pleasure, sir,’ Hirsch replied.
The most expensive hotel in Sydney provided the venue for the regimental ball. The huge room flickered with candlelight that highlighted the jewels worn by the ladies with their sweeping long dresses. Their military partners had donned brightly coloured mess dress, and those who had seen service wore miniature medals on their chests.
A bagpipe and drum band provided the music while smartly dressed waiters circulated with trays of champagne and sherry in crystal goblets. It was a grand affair where civilian guests and their partners mixed with the soldier and sailor officers of Australia and those foreign powers who were able to accept the invitations.
Alex wore his mess dress of jacket and Scottish kilt. He was alone; although he had the opportunity to invite a partner, his memory of Giselle stopped him from doing so. His father was annoyed that he had not invited one of the many eligible young ladies from their social circle but Alex simply replied that he had been so occupied by his work after returning from German territory that he did not have time to do as his father suggested. In fact, Alex could only think of one person who should have been by his side.
Father and son were standing side by side, flutes of champagne in their hands, discussing mundane matters when they heard the announcement of Mr Randolph Gates and Miss Fenella Macintosh by a regimentally dressed sergeant at the entrance to the hotel ballroom.
Both Patrick and his son looked utterly surprised.
‘Damn!’ Patrick swore. ‘When did that happen?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I thought that Nellie would be with that actor, Wilkes,’ he replied.
Both men thought that Fenella’s choice of man to accompany her to the ball was a pleasant surprise; they both loathed the actor they considered a cad. As far as they knew, the American was a man of honour, quite acceptable as a beau for the woman they felt most protective of.
The next to be announced was Mr Matthew Duffy. Matthew also appeared alone. He wore a beautifully tailored dinner suit with the miniatures of his South African campaign on the left lapel. He muttered something to the sergeant standing rigidly by the door accepting invitations and the sergeant smiled briefly.
Matthew glanced around the ballroom. From the top of the stairs he could see Patrick and Alex. He immediately made his way to them through the swirling crowd of colour.
‘Good evening, Colonel, Alex,’ Matthew said, accepting a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘I see that it must be bachelors’ night at the ball.’
Alex grinned, pleased to have an ally in his choice to attend alone. ‘I am surprised that you have not been able to convince some young lady to accompany you,’ he said to his cousin whom he had immediately taken to after so many years of not seeing him. They had met when Alex was a mere boy and his cousin only a little older, on his way to enlist for the South African campaign, albeit underage. Upon meeting up again when Alex returned they seemed to have forged an immediate friendship. Alex eyed Matthew’s two miniature medals with some envy for the fact that he had seen action fighting for the Queen against the Boers. Here Alex was, a captain in an infantry regiment with no combat experience, although his father had often cautioned him not to be in any haste to go to war.
‘Just been a bit too busy to look for any young lady foolish enough to accept any invitation I might offer,’ he shrugged off. ‘One never knows – the evening lies ahead.’
The next announcement caught their attention.
‘Mr George Macintosh and Miss Louise Gyles.’
‘So, George has a new lady in his life,’ Patrick muttered. ‘I wonder what happened to the last one?’
Matthew glanced at the young lady beside George. She wore a long silk dress that flowed around her ankles and a string of sparkling jewels around her neck. Her raven hair was piled on her head and interwoven with pearls. The effect seemed to accentuate her slender neck. Matthew’s breath was taken away and the impact she had on him was noticed by his cousin.
‘Rather a stunning woman,’ Alex said beside him. ‘I don’t know how my wretched brother finds them.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Matthew answered absentmindedly, already considering how he might get his name on her dance card. ‘Truly a beautiful young lady. Do you know who she is?’
‘She is the daughter of a very good friend of mine,’ Patrick cut in. ‘Sir Keith Gyles. I am not surprised that she is here.’
Matthew made no further comment. He had the feeling that Louise Gyles was not a woman easily swayed by the flattering words of mere mortals such as himself. She moved across the highly polished floor with the grace of a royal princess.
‘I suppose that I should pay my compliments to Sir Keith’s daughter,’ Patrick said. ‘The last time I saw Louise was during her school days. She was just a freckled young lady then. All legs and gangly like a young filly.’
Matthew watched Colonel Duffy stride away and wished that he had volunteered to go with him. But he remained with Alex, looking around for Randolph and Fenella to greet them. The old dog, Matthew chuckled to himself. Texas Slim had not confided that he had been able to convince Fenella to accompany him to the ball. Come to think of it, Matthew thought further, Randolph had spent very little time at their hotel. He would be either working at Arthur’s studio or find an excuse to disappear on the weekend. Matthew suspected that he had met a lady but never guessed it was Fenella.
When Colonel Hughes and his wife were announced Patrick met them at the bottom of the stairs. ‘You are looking particularly regal tonight, Gladys,’ Patrick said, taking Gladys Hughes’ gloved hand. She returned his compliment with a warm smile. Gladys was the epitome of an English rose and although in her late fifties she had the complexion of a much younger woman.
‘You are looking very dashing, Patrick. Do you have a lady on your arm tonight?’ she asked.
‘I did not invite any other lady. I knew that you would be coming with this old war horse and felt that I would be able to sweep you off your feet before the night was gone from the sky,’ he replied.
‘You are welcome, old chap,’ Hughes said, entering into the banter. ‘All she does is nag me about spending all my time at the barracks.’
‘If you two gentlemen will excuse me,’ Gladys said, ‘I see an old friend that I have not seen for a long time. I shall go and speak with her.’ With this she departed, leaving the two soldiers standing together.
‘Have you heard the news?’ Hughes asked, reverting to a serious tone. ‘Your PM is calling a double dissolution in parliament. Apparently it is the first time that this has been done i
n your new government.’
‘I have read about it in the papers,’ Patrick replied. ‘What do you think it will mean to our plans?’
Hughes nodded at a junior officer passing by. ‘If there is a change of government it could mean that our plan will be cancelled. Or it may mean that we have to convince the new PM – whoever he may be, although I suspect that it will be the little Welshman, Billy Hughes – that it is essential to carry on with what we know about German intentions in this part of the world.’
The next guest to be announced caused both men to put aside their political speculation.
‘Major von Fellmann of the Imperial German Army,’ the sergeant announced.
‘I think that we should personally welcome my distant relative,’ Patrick said. ‘I am sure that you would like to meet him.’
Both men moved forward as the German officer stepped into the crowded room. He was dressed in full ceremonial uniform and his smart, foreign appearance caused one or two curious heads to turn.
‘Major von Fellmann,’ Patrick said, offering his hand, ‘I am Colonel Patrick Duffy, and the gentleman with me is Colonel Hughes, on secondment to us from the British army.’
Kurt snapped his heels together, accepting Patrick’s courteous gesture.
‘Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to meet you both,’ he said. ‘My mother has told me much about you, Colonel Duffy.’
‘Ah, Penelope,’ Patrick said. ‘How is your mother?’
‘She is well and, from time to time, missing the warmer climate of Sydney,’ he replied. ‘But I know she would expect me to pass on her compliments to her Australian relatives.’
‘I am glad that you were able to be here,’ Patrick said, guiding Kurt towards a waiter carrying a silver tray. ‘Can I interest you in a drink?
‘I would like that,’ Kurt answered, taking a flute. ‘A toast to friendship between Australia and Germany,’ he said, raising his drink. Both Patrick and Colonel Hughes echoed his words.
‘Well, Colonel Duffy,’ Hughes said after sipping his wine, ‘I think that I should leave you two to catch up on family business and find my wife before some young cavalry officer sweeps her off her feet.’
The two men watched him depart and Patrick turned his attention back to his guest. ‘I must say that you are very much like your brother, Karl. But he is your twin brother.’
‘People say that,’ Kurt replied. ‘I have yet to catch up with Karl but I have been informed he will be here tonight.’
‘I have heard that you have been on an inspection tour of the Pacific,’ Patrick said. ‘I hope that all has gone well.’
Kurt looked at Patrick. ‘I believe that your son, Captain Macintosh, has just returned from one of our territories.’
Patrick could see that Kurt was diplomatically deflecting the conversation away from his official duties. ‘Yes, I must introduce you to him,’ he said, glancing around to find his son and was lucky to see him only a short distance away. Patrick gestured to Alex to join them and introduced the two men.
‘So, this is your first visit to Australia,’ Alex said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I like what I have experienced so far,’ Kurt replied. ‘I think that your ladies are very pretty.’
The two men were on ground they could agree upon – women. Patrick left them chatting together and wandered off to see if he could get another drink before making his official speech as commanding officer of the regiment to welcome guests and fellow officers. Around him couples swirled as the band played martial tunes. It was a truly wonderful evening inside the ballroom and for some reason Patrick had a fleeting thought that on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo British officers had attended a gala ball. There would be no battles in the morning, he reassured himself – except with hangovers. But he was acutely aware that they were teetering on the edge of global conflict, although the general public was oblivious to the tenuous peace. In the murky world of intelligence he was waging a war to gather information that would be critical to Australia’s survival if Germany confronted the British Empire in the Pacific.
Matthew did not wait to be introduced to George Macintosh’s beautiful partner for the ball. He made his way across the dance floor to where she sat at a table with George.
‘George,’ Matthew said, acknowledging his presence.
‘Matthew,’ George responded, without any enthusiasm. Neither man liked each other.
‘Miss Gyles, I am hoping that you have a space on your dance card for me,’ Matthew said, ignoring George’s cold stare. ‘If I may be as bold as to introduce myself, I am Matthew Duffy.’
When Louise looked up Matthew had to admit to himself that he could feel sweat on the palms of his hand. His nervousness was not apparent, however, as he had long learned to control signs of fear. ‘Are you related to Colonel Duffy?’ she asked in a well-modulated voice.
‘Colonel Duffy is my mother’s nephew, so I suppose that makes Patrick my first cousin.’
‘I thought that I could see a family resemblance when I first saw you some minutes ago,’ she said with just the hint of a smile. Matthew was aware that he was staring into her eyes and felt that he could easily be lost in them. They were deep and mauve and he could see just a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks which only made her more appealing. That she had noticed him earlier caused his spirit to soar. ‘That makes George a cousin, too,’ he added.
‘Don’t you have a young lady to attend to,’ George growled, sensing that his cousin was paying more than passing interest in his partner.
‘I had to come alone,’ Matthew retorted. ‘Your father has had me a bit tied up with work for him.’
‘What is your occupation, Mr Duffy?’ Louise asked, realising that the two men were vying for her attention.
‘I am an aviator,’ Matthew responded.
‘An aviator!’ Louise exclaimed. ‘I saw Mr Houdini demonstrate flying only recently. It looked very exciting – and dangerous.’
‘It can be both,’ Matthew said, feeling that he may just have an edge on his cousin who was now glowering at him from the table. ‘But we could discuss it if you can make a place for me on your dance card.’
Louise glanced at her card and, with a small pencil, wrote in Matthew’s name. ‘I think that the next dance would be available, Mr Duffy,’ she said sweetly. ‘George can use the time to talk to his business colleagues.’
The band had struck up a Scottish reel and Matthew extended his hand. Louise rose and he led her onto the dance floor. With whoops and yells the dancers swung around the floor. Louise was light on her feet. All the time, Matthew did not take his eyes off his dance partner.
When the dance was over, Matthew reluctantly escorted her back to the table. George was not there and Louise invited Matthew to sit and talk to her.
‘I can see that you have served in the army,’ she said, glancing at the medals on his dinner suit. ‘Are you still connected with the military?’
‘No,’ Matthew lied, putting aside his links with the colonel’s covert operation. ‘I am involved in exploring the possibilities of flight for our country’s rural needs.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Louise replied. ‘Why have you chosen to be an aviator?’
Matthew thought about her question for just a moment. No one had asked him so directly before why he loved to fly. ‘Do you ever sometimes sit and look up at the clouds?’ he asked.
‘Often,’ she replied. ‘I imagine the clouds are creatures with their different shapes.’
‘Well, so did I and now I am able to go close enough to touch those creatures.’
Louise laughed lightly at his explanation. ‘How exquisite!’ she said. ‘I would love to do that.’
‘With all going well, I may be able to make your wish come true,’ Matthew said. ‘I actually own an aircraft but alas, it is a single seater, but I intend to soon purchase a twin seater.’
‘I would love to fly with you,’ Louise said, leaning forward so closely that Matthew could smell her perfume. He w
as about to reply when George suddenly loomed above them.
‘I believe the next dance is mine,’ he said to Louise as the band struck up once again. ‘If you will excuse us, Matthew.’
Matthew watched as Louise accompanied George onto the dance floor. Deep in his heart he knew that he had established a rapport with the beautiful young woman. He would see her again. What the bloody hell could she see in that fool George? But his question was gloomily answered as he watched them dance together. George was good-looking, rich and a very eligible catch for any woman, whereas he was not independently rich and led a life that left little time for a permanent relationship.
‘Are you about to join the bachelor regiment?’ a voice asked from behind him. Matthew turned to see Alex in company with a German officer.
‘Major von Fellmann, I presume,’ Matthew said, rising from the table and extending his hand.
‘Matthew Duffy, at your service.’
Kurt accepted the extended hand. ‘I have heard of you,’ he responded warmly. ‘You fought our Dutch cousins in Africa.’
‘You are well informed,’ Matthew answered. ‘Welcome to Australia.’
‘The way things are going between my sister and Texas Slim,’ Alex said, the effects of just one or two many champagnes becoming apparent as he spied the couple dance past, ‘I doubt that we can include him in the bachelor regiment anymore. Who would have guessed?’
‘Not me,’ Matthew said, shaking his head. ‘Your sister might be responsible for breaking up a grand team of men if Randolph keeps going the way he is.’
‘Uncle Arthur has offered Texas a full-time job with his studio, doing the dangerous stunts for Guy Wilkes,’ Alex continued. ‘But that won’t be possible until you two complete your mission for Father.’
‘What mission is that?’ Kurt asked.
Alex suddenly realised that the alcohol had loosened his tongue and that he was saying things in front of an officer from the very country that they were planning to spy on. He also noticed the warning in Matthew’s eyes.
‘Oh, nothing much,’ Alex corrected himself. ‘It’s just a job filming some farmland west of here.’