There was no sign of the German naval ratings who had formed the escort; not until two bodies drifted close to Halfhyde and he recognized the petty officer and one of the seamen, both with their chests stove in. There was a curious smell on the wind now, a sulphurous stench that caught at the breath. Halfhyde went down deep as, in another lightning flash, he saw von Merkatz’ eyes looking in his direction. The Admiral shouted an order: he had seen his quarry. Beneath the surface, Halfhyde swam as fast as he could and as far as he could before coming again to the surface; when he broke through he found himself about to bump the side of one of the steamers, a paddler, and thrust away with his legs just in time to save his life: there was a rush of water following upon a sound of engines; dollops of sea descended upon Halfhyde, and he realized that he was uncomfortably close to one of the steamer’s paddle boxes. There was a man on top of the box and Halfhyde raised a shout.
“Up top, there! Cast a line and bring me aboard. And hurry!”
THE SHIP was the paddle steamer Tacoma of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company; she was ship-rigged on her three masts, steam being used as an auxiliary to her sails. A tall, thin funnel rose blackly and with an alien look through her rigging. Halfhyde was taken at once to the Captain.
“Who the devil are you?” the Captain asked. “Were you thrown from one of the other ships, or what?”
“No,” Halfhyde said, wringing water from his clothing. “I am a lieutenant of Her Majesty’s Navy and was about to be shanghaied aboard the German flagship. I doubt if I can convince you quickly, Captain, but I ask you to take my word for what I’ve said and deny all knowledge of me if the Huns should board you.”
The Captain laughed. “I doubt if they’ll do that! They’ll be away to sea as soon as they can make it—like me!”
“You’re leaving now?”
“I am. You’ll have to come with me, I’m afraid—all the way to Australia.”
Halfhyde said, “I find that suitable enough, Captain. When there’s the time, you’ll have my story and my request for your continuing assistance.”
The Captain gave him a searching look, then said quietly, “We shall see what it is you ask. In the meantime, you’d better go below and get a change of clothing, and a hot drink inside you, well laced. I’ll send down for my steward.” He turned away, but before he could pass any orders, there was a shout from his Chief Officer.
“Captain, sir…German boat making alongside starboard.”
The Captain and Halfhyde looked to starboard; the picquet-boat was coming up. Von Merkatz, his uniform awry and filthy with the port scum, was waving a megaphone. They heard his shout, half snatched away by the wind.
“Tacoma ahoy. I am Vice-Admiral von Merkatz of the Imperial German Navy. You are harbouring a criminal. I demand to come aboard you!”
The Captain glanced at Halfhyde. “I know nothing about you. Have I your word that the German’s uttering lies?”
“You have, sir.”
There was a nod. “You have the ring of sincerity at all events. I’ll back you—I detest Huns in any case. What do you suggest?”
Halfhyde grinned. “Since you ask, I suggest hoses.”
“A man after my own heart, I see!” The Captain leaned over the fore guardrail of his bridge. “Mr Mortimer, the fire hoses. Turn them on the German.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Halfhyde said formally, “A request, sir.”
“Well?”
“I have two special attributes: an ability to aim a hose straight, and a particularly strong personal dislike of Admiral von Merkatz.”
The Captain clapped Halfhyde on the shoulder. “Then go to it!”
Halfhyde, delaying his change of clothing, for the time being, went fast down the ladder to the main deck and took up one of the hoses as they were connected and turned on. His aim was as good as his word to the Captain: a stream of water took von Merkatz in the chest, bowling him over. Sounds of fury came back, and in the continuing play of the lightning, Halfhyde saw the picquet-boat swing away under full helm and head towards the flagship.
VON MERKATZ would not be so easily disposed of, and Halfhyde said as much to Captain Graves once the Tacoma was clear of the port and headed on her course for Australia.
“A tenacious man, and one who detests being bested. In addition to which, I assume he has a roving commission—his squadron will be the German Special Service Squadron, which customarily roves the world upon its Emperor’s business and as often as not upon that of its Admiral—”
“I’m aware of the fact of the squadron’s mission, Halfhyde,” Graves paused and stuffed tobacco into his pipe. “I happen to be a senior lieutenant of the reserve—”
“A lieutenant RNR?” Halfhyde knew he had had a stroke of luck: the Royal Naval Reserve, formed in 1862, was composed of officers and men of the merchant service who did an annual training period with the Fleet and had contracted to be called up in time of
