The Tacoma was examined by a number of telescopes and while this was in progress Captain Graves came back to the bridge.
“Good morning, Halfhyde. He’s still there, I see.”
Halfhyde nodded. “And planning something I don’t doubt.”
“But what?”
“Time will tell the way his mind is running, sir.” Halfhyde put forward his theory that von Merkatz might send away a boarding party.
Graves said, “We shall cut the grappling-irons loose if he tries that.”
“I see dangers if we do, sir. Germans could be drowned.”
“As a result of the Admiral’s order only.”
“True enough, but it could be an excuse for him—in his own eyes at any rate—to open fire.”
Graves snorted. “Are we permitted no defence at all, Halfhyde?”
“Well, as to that, I’m prepared to take the risk, but I have a very particular vested interest, as you know! I shall not put your ship and crew in jeopardy, sir. If von Merkatz comes for me, then go I must. I’ll rely on you to make Sydney with all despatch, and make your report to the authorities and ask for its immediate forwarding to London.”
“Of course, of course,” Graves said impatiently, “but it’s not going to come to that. There’s not a man aboard who’d give in to the damn Germans and never mind the risk.”
“But I insist I shall not—”
“A moment, Mr Halfhyde,” Graves interrupted crisply. “Mr Mortimer, I’m going below again. I shall not be long, but if there is any change in the Germans’ disposition, I’m to be called immediately.”
Disregarding Halfhyde, he went down the bridge ladder. Halfhyde, frowning, watched the German flagship. Very slowly now, she was drawing ahead; and soon there was a considerable signal traffic between her and the other two ships, both by flag hoist and by lamp. Unable to read the German flag code, Halfhyde could glean nothing from it but suggested to Mortimer that the Master should be informed.
Graves was quickly back on the bridge, and as he came up Halfhyde saw that he had shifted into his Royal Naval Reserve uniform and was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. As he came up to Halfhyde he patted the gold lace of his rank, the lace that included the straight half stripe between the two thicker intertwined ones in indication of his status as a senior lieutenant. Halfhyde, grinning back, took the hint.
“You out-rank me, sir, but this is highly unconstitutional, I fancy!”
Graves said, “Hoist with your own petard, Mr Halfhyde, Your White Ensign was also unconstitutional, but since it’s there we may as well make the fullest use of it.” He lifted his telescope towards the flagship, then added, “Just as you have, as it were, commissioned my ship, I for my part have decided to call myself up for war service!”
MCRAFFERTY’S FACE was like granite, but beneath it he was a very worried man. His passenger was a Jonah if ever there was one. The first report of trouble had come from that passenger when Goss had failed to appear with his early morning cup of tea; Jesson had stormed up from the saloon hatch with a sour face and a complaining voice. The pallor behind the heavy beard had been evidence, if such were needed, of the previous night’s drinking. McRafferty had ordered Goss to be looked for; Jesson had reported his cabin and the pantry empty. But Goss could not be found anywhere in the ship. To make matters worse, traces of blood had been found in the saloon alleyway, close to the for’ard door on the starboard side. Then Jesson had come back to report that he believed his belongings to have been disturbed; the cases were not quite as he had left them.
“Is anything missing?” McRafferty demanded.
“Not so far as I’ve been able to check—no. But that someone’s been at them I’ve no doubt at all.”
“Probably Goss, quite innocently. Cabins have to be cleaned, Mr Jesson, and Goss—”
“Well, that we’ll never know now, will we? Where’s Goss? Tell me that!” Jesson waved a hand over the side. “That’s where Goss went, if you ask me, Captain McRafferty. Thrown overboard, dead! It wasn’t Goss who searched my cabin. For my money, Goss disturbed whoever did and suffered for it with his life. And you know as well as I do who did it. That damned murderer of yours, Captain.” Jesson’s face had lost its pallor now; it was suffused with angry blood.
McRafferty snapped, “You are talking balderdash, Mr Jesson, since the man Float has been securely held in the sail locker all through the night. A murderer he may be, but he’s not responsible for what happened—”
“How sure are you?” Jesson demanded.
“Very sure. But to satisfy you, I shall check.” McRafferty did; an examination of the sail locker entry showed it to be securely locked; the First Mate confirmed that a man had been detailed to put the prisoner back in confinement the night before. When sent for, Althwaite confirmed that he had indeed done so. The hatch, he said, was one hundred per cent secure. When Float was brought out under guard, he looked as innocent as a baby; he hadn’t even heard anything. He’d been dead tired and had just slept. He was astonished to hear what had happened. Regretting even more the absence of Halfhyde, Captain McRafferty instituted an enquiry and got nowhere. No one aboard
