The diamond bags transferred, Bullock went to his cabin to get the revolver.
“I’D GIVE much to know what von Merkatz is up to,” Halfhyde said. Reports from the masthead lookout had indicated that the Aysgarth Falls, now identified as such by Halfhyde himself, who had gone aloft with a telescope, was still coming on under full sail for Breakup Island.
Graves said, “I don’t doubt we can expect him to weigh and steam south to lie off outside the Passage.”
“There’s been no apparent reaction to him from the Aysgarth Falls,” Halfhyde pointed out. He brooded, feeling savage. It might not be long before the German warship’s fighting top was sighted even if she didn’t steam out from the lee of Breakup Island; and when von Merkatz in his turn sighted another ship entering such desolate and unlikely waters, then he might smell a very large rat and see some connection with Lieutenant Halfhyde. If he acted in some as yet unknown fashion upon his suspicions, all kinds of trouble might ensue and it was only too likely that Jesson would get away in the confusion. Besides, Halfhyde, who disliked inactivity, was beginning to feel like a rat himself, one caught in a closing trap. His whole instinct was to force the issue now before it was too late, and he decided to act on that instinct. He said, “The time has come for something else, sir.”
Graves gave him an enquiring look.
“We must go to sea. We must intercept the Aysgarth Falls, immediately. I am sorry to sound peremptory and demanding, sir. But I have a duty to Captain McRafferty—and to the crown as well.”
“I gave you my promise of assistance,” Graves said mildly.
“Yes, sir. And I said I was grateful—I am. When we intercept the Aysgarth Falls I shall remove Jesson from the ship and bring him aboard you, relying once again on the effectiveness of the White Ensign against Admiral von Merkatz. Will you support me in that, sir?”
Graves nodded. “I don’t go back on my word, Halfhyde. You’ll have my full support in anything you find necessary.”
“Thank you, sir. I ask the loan of a revolver, and the availability of a boat’s crew for boarding.”
“And you shall have hands to board with you.”
Within the next five minutes the Tacoma had way upon her; with her paddles chunking through the water, she headed for the open Pacific seaward of Disaster Passage, with a boat ready at the davits, swung out for lowering and manned by a crew picked from among the hardest cases aboard.
“A BLOODY steamer,” Bullock said. He spoke vindictively: the steamer had come out from a point southerly of Breakup Island and looked set to cross the windjammer’s course inwards. The First Mate stared across the dismal grey of the sea as the sails, filled with a fair wind, carried the ship on towards the landing point. He gnawed at his lip, wondering if he should go below and tell Jesson; but decided not to. This wasn’t Jesson’s business and the man would only make difficulties, unnecessary ones. But the paddler was steering a dangerous course; one that was not so far off a collision course, in fact. McRafferty was worried now. “Blasted idiot!” he said. “There’s not a damned sailorman amongst the lot of them, in steam!” He watched the oncoming steamer closely, assessing her course which looked the more threatening as she came nearer. He shook with anger; the steamer had a lunatic in command. He shouted, “Mr Bullock, all hands at once, man the braces…stand by to go about!”
Bullock, who was studying the steamer in increasing concern, didn’t respond to the Captain’s order. McRafferty repeated it, taking the First Mate by the shoulder and wrenching him round to face him. Bullock said harshly, “Go about, my backside! We hold our course. She’s crossing us clear and she’s altering to starboard! I reckon she’s going to come down our side—didn’t you see—” He broke off in mid-,sentence, pushed McRafferty aside, and slid fast down the poop ladder to run along the waist, shouting for the hands. McRafferty, staring towards the steamer, now close and moving round his stern to come up on the port side, saw men mustered on her starboard paddle box.
One of them waved a hand and it was then that McRafferty recognized Halfhyde. His first reaction was one of sheer disbelief. After that, he moved fast. As he left the poop, Jesson emerged from the saloon hatch, his revolver in his hand.
HALFHYDE STARED across at the Aysgarth Falls as the Tacoma came round the stern of the windjammer, edging up to lie amidships for the jump across the gap. He had decided to board in naval fashion; he regretted only that the days of cutlasses were past. The manoeuvre would stand a
