Nat Nwe - Storm danger

Sailing ship Deutschland, 26 August 1944. 11 days after leaving Rio. Anchored at Villeneuve. Starting to warm up. Fair weather, coaling and running out. Filled with sand and closed the deck hatches for return to Rio. Rain expected in the evening.

(1)

Just as the 'Praja' reached the bend, a rumble of thunder came from the distant sea. The sky was ablaze with light. The harbor was briefly visible. As usual, small boats and three or four coastal ships were moored at the central pier. In the middle of the water, a "ditch" was anchored. There was only one dinghy in the entire harbor, a sailing ship, and it stood out.

Suddenly, it started to rain. Praja turned up his jacket collar, clipped his old leather handbag under his arm, and walked briskly toward a bar at the edge of the fishing pier.

A soft, melodious melody was coming from inside the cave. The night was getting darker. Praja climbed onto the verandah, took off his glasses and wiped the raindrops with his handkerchief. Then he carefully put them back on and looked inside the cave.

It was empty inside. Only the bartender and Helmut Richter were visible. Richter, the helmsman of the German schooner, was sitting at the end of the bar with a bottle and a glass. Richter was only 28 years old, but his large frame, long hair, and beard made him look older than he really was. He was wearing a heavy jacket and a hat.

Praja enters. The liquor seller looks up at Praja from where he is wiping a glass with a cloth. Praja ignores him and walks into the shop, shaking the raindrops from his hat. He places his large handbag on the floor at his feet.

"Good night, Helmut."

Helmut Richter nodded his head heavily and picked up the bottle.

"Have a drink, Hapraja."

"I don't drink."

"That's good. We don't have good alcohol, so we only drink 'Karaka'. It harms the brain and liver."

"They say that. But I haven't had 'Shnaat' since I was thirty-nine."

"Is Captain Vajra here?"

"Waiting for Hapraja on the ship"

Praja picked up the large handbag,

“So, shall we go? We don't have much time. Who else is looking for me?” Before Richard could answer, a voice spoke. In Portuguese.

"Oh.. Is it Sinnya Praja? How did you get here?"

Praja quickly turned around and saw the curtain of a room behind him open. A man was sitting with a bottle of wine. His khaki uniform was dripping with sweat and the seams were coming apart. Praja smiled and...

"Captain Mendoza, aren't you asleep yet?"

"I'm not sleeping yet. What's the matter? Is it work or just a visit?"

"I'd say both. The situation of the German men is quite problematic these days. The government is always urging regular reports, Captain."

"Yes? Is that why the Consul himself is meeting Captain Varja and his men?"

"Reports are due on the first day of each week. You people in Rio are very strict about this."

"What about you, Sir? I heard that your wife also came with you on the plane."

"I have a little time off. My wife has never been to this part of the country before, so I came along when I had the chance."

Richter left the bar without saying a word. Mendoza watched him leave, then...

"He said he was the helmsman on the U-Boat. Is that right?"

"Yes"

"Would you like a glass of water?"

“I have an appointment so I’ll just have a quick drink.”

"Do you have an appointment with Captain Vargas? When will he return to Rio? Tomorrow morning?"

"I think I'll be back tomorrow."

Praja took a sip of brandy. Things were getting worse. He was 65 years old. He had been assistant consul at the German embassy in Rio until August 1942. Brazil, unable to tolerate the torpedoing of their cargo ships by their U-boats, declared war. The problems of the Germans in Brazil were now becoming serious. Especially the problem of the large number of their sailors who had arrived after shipwrecks. Praja had lived in this country for twenty years and was on good terms with the higher authorities, so he was left to solve these problems. Brazil and Germany were separated by a vast ocean of five thousand miles, so the Brazilian government did not need to open expensive prison camps, but only asked Praja for a monthly report on the German citizens. Moreover, the Germans were happy to see that they were doing useful work without opposing the Brazilian government.

"I have been serving as the port master here for two years. During this time, the Deutsche Link has come regularly, about once every two months."

Mendoza said.

"Say it," Praja spoke up.

"For a ship this size, a captain, a sailor, a helmsman, six crew members, and a cook would be plenty."

"Yes, of course," Mendoza took a sip of wine...

"But I heard that there are about twenty sailors on the Baja this time."

"There are a lot of German sailors in Rio," Praja said cautiously.

"Yes. It's getting worse every day. It means the war situation is not good for you."

"As a Baja, I have to use people as much as I can," Mendoza said, smiling beautifully...

"I'm not thrilled with this solution. But I'm not saying anything. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"We will see you"

Praja quickly left. Ritchie was waiting near the verandah steps. Outside, it was raining heavily.

"What's up? Is everything okay?" Richard asked.

"It's not very good. He knows something. But he doesn't seem to know the truth. Who knows? Now.. let's go."

Praja patted Richter on the shoulder and said.

"I didn't say anything because I couldn't say it inside. Someone is asking for the consul."

Seeing movement behind them, the priest turned around. A nun dressed in white appeared in the light.

"Sister Angela"

Richard introduces.

"We don't need to be introduced. Sister Angela and I are old friends."

Praja took off his hat and held out his hand. Sister Angela shook it with all her strength.

"It's nice to see you again, Sister."

"I'm glad too. I thought you'd know what brought me here."

“Oh.. I know. I know.”

They crossed by boat. The first thing they saw was the anchor, which was tied to the bow of the ship according to the rules of the sea. Then, as they approached the ship, they saw the mast and sails against the dark sky.

As we climbed the ropeway, Praja looked up with satisfaction. The Deutschland was a three-masted sailing ship built in 1881. The ship had a beautifully curved bow.

It was already a world-class ship. It had transported all kinds of goods from the neighboring countries. It had crossed many oceans. It had reached all corners of the world. It had also changed owners and its name had changed three times, and finally it was bought by the Mayer Brothers Company in Brazil, and the owner of the company was of German descent, so he renamed it “Die Link”. It was used as a coastal cargo ship, sailing between Rio and Viñales. The ship had a draft of only eight feet even when fully loaded, so it was forced to sail to the mouth of the Amazon River.