Halfhyde Outward Bound

by Philip McCutchan

  Chapter 10

  THE CRASH and thunder of a single gun echoed across the darkening water and a splash appeared on the port side of the Tacoma, just off the bow. The German flagship had come up on their starboard side and had reduced speed a shade so as to hold her station.

  “That’s it, then,” Halfhyde said. “Run up the White Ensign, sir, if you please.”

  Graves nodded at a seaman standing by on the bridge. The man went off at the double and within three minutes the red St George’s cross with the Union flag in miniature was flying from the gaff. Halfhyde said, “Now we must hope that’ll put the cat among the pigeons of the Fatherland. I believe it will.”

  They waited; there was no more gunfire. Instead, the German flagship altered a little to port and came closer to the Tacoma’s starboard beam. A voice bawled at them through a megaphone. “Lieutenant Halfhyde!”

  Halfhyde grinned and also took up a megaphone. “Here, sir, present and correct!”

  “What does this mean, the White Ensign of your confounded Navy?”

  “The meaning is simple,” Halfhyde called back. “The Tacoma is now one of Her Majesty’s ships. As a commissioned officer of the Queen, I have exercised my prerogative to press her into the naval service—”

  “There is no such prerogative!”

  “I say there is, and that your knowledge of the British Fleet is inadequate.”

  “Such nonsense! So typically English! Your Admiralty will give no backing to such rubbish, Lieutenant Halfhyde.”

  “On the contrary, sir. They are always quick to appreciate initiative and are equally quick to deprecate offensive action against Her Majesty’s ships. You will be adjudged guilty before the world, sir, of–of piracy and even of lèse-majesté and—”

  “Do not be impertinent, Lieutenant Halfhyde! Your wretched Queen Victoria, she is nothing to me, to the Fatherland, and I am inferior to no one other than my Emperor. I command you to take down the White Ensign!”

  Halfhyde spoke aside to Graves. “This fish has taken the hook to some extent, sir.” He brought up the megaphone again. “Your commands are but words and will be disregarded. The White Ensign remains. If you open fire upon one of Her Majesty’s ships again, you will stand condemned in your Emperor’s eyes as well as those of all the world. I doubt if the Fatherland wishes to go to war, sir.”

  He lowered his megaphone. To Graves he said, “I think that’s enough for now, sir.” He was about to say something further when there was another shout from the German flagship.

  “If I were to sink you, Lieutenant Halfhyde, who is there to know?”

  Halfhyde answered, “Your ship’s company, sir, who would be sure to talk in time. And even they would not condone wholesale murder of British seamen, just for your personal revenge and satisfaction.”

  STILL SHADOW-LIKE, Float slid past the door of the steward’s cabin, which was shut. Unseen, he entered the passenger’s cabin; the door of it stood open and there was no one there. Softly he closed the door behind him and looked around in the light of a hanging lantern already lit by Goss against Jesson’s tumbling in due course, half drunken, into his bunk. Working in silence, Float tried the drawers beneath the bunk; all were unlocked save one. The unlocked drawers contained nothing beyond clothing. Float cursed beneath his breath and turned his attention to the leather cases that littered the small cabin. In point of fact, they had a more interesting look than the drawers. He moved towards them, eyes narrowed. Jesson’s booty, stolen goods?

  Float selected the smallest of the cases—not so small as all that, in fact, but heavy for its size. He pulled the knife and a length of wire from inside his seaman’s jacket. The picking of locks came easily to him; the case stood open and Float thrust a hand in.

  He felt a number of wash-leather bags of varying sizes, tied around their throats.

  He brought one out, excitement rising like a fever, His fingers trembled as he pulled the cord free and opened the neck. He held the bag beneath the lantern and looked at the contents.

  Diamonds!

  Lovely, beautiful diamonds. The bag was filled with them. Float’s throat went dry. He brought out more of the bags. All diamonds; and the case contained a score or more of such bags. Very likely the other leather cases also contained diamonds. It was a king’s ransom, a hundred kings’ ransoms.

  Float’s lips formed a whistle, but he managed to hold on to it. He had never expected to find wealth on this scale; and for the possessor of it to seek passage aboard the Aysgarth Falls when he could have booked a comfortable voyage in a steamer—or even bought his own steam yacht and done it in real style—positively confirmed to Float that Jesson was on the run with his loot.

  For a moment Float sat back, considering his own situation. The light from the lantern flickered from the diamonds. The temptation to delve in and take a handful or two was immensely strong; it had to be resisted. Certainly Jesson was unlikely to realize he had been burgled until he was away from the ship, perhaps not even then; and even if he did, then no suspicions of theft would come Float’s way if his friend Althwaite performed as promised and came along to lock him back into the sail locker. But Float wouldn’t have any use for a cache of diamonds once the ship reached the Australian coast and he was handed over to the peelers. The whole object of his current expedition had been, in fact, to find some way of not being handed over and he had to remember that and stick fast to it. He had found what he believed he would find: evidence that Jesson had something to hide. And what a something! Jesson would want to preserve that; in Float’s good time his knowledge of Jesson’s haul would be made use of to ensure that he got out with the passenger, that he wasn’t around when the Aysgarth Falls berthed in Sydney. Of course, he had no idea what Jesson’s plans might be in regard to final disembarkation, but he would find out and then work things his way.

  He restored the bags, re-tied, to the case, which he closed with a small snap. Gently he opened the door and looked along the alleyway.

  All clear.

  He emerged. Snores came from the saloon: that would be Jesson. Float padded along towards the door giving on to the open deck below the break of the poop. From that door it was just a step to the sail locker. Float waited inside the alleyway until he heard footsteps on the poop—McRafferty, who had the watch while Bullock slept. When the footsteps made aft, then Float would come out into the deck shadows.

  He was all set when Goss came out of his cabin.

  WHEN THE next dawn was up the German warships were still in company. They steamed in Line Ahead behind their Admiral, who was maintaining his station off the starboard beam of the Tacoma. Halfhyde examined the Admiral’s bridge through a telescope: there was no sign now of von Merkatz. Halfhyde paced the bridge; he had persuaded Captain Graves to go below to snatch some sleep, and the Chief Officer was on watch. Halfhyde pondered his next move, and the likely next move of the German. Von Merkatz would be beside himself with fury; it would not be in character for him to withdraw, but he was going to look a very foolish man if he remained in company all the way to Sydney, only to be refused entry through the Heads by the Australian authorities—which would surely be the case. Foreign navies were not expected to enter British or colonial ports other than by prior arrangement at diplomatic level.

  So what would he do?

  Not for the first time in his seagoing career Halfhyde wished there was means of communication between ships at sea and the Admiralty at home—or between a ship such as the Tacoma and other ships that might be somewhere in the vicinity. If only he could make contact with a British squadron, such as the Detached Cruiser Squadron which might or might not be in the Pacific, then he could have met any threat from von Merkatz with superior gun power. On the other hand, the Admiralty might well wish to steer clear of trouble and would do no more than shilly-shally…

  Would von Merkatz try to board? If he put an armed party aboard the Tacoma to seize Halfhyde, he would be in violation of sovereign territory, but at least he would not have
caused damage and loss of life. It would be a much easier situation for him to talk his way out of afterwards. But to board a ship steaming as fast as his own ships would be so difficult as to be virtually impossible. Yet would it? The German had a knot or two in hand, and, given time, could draw ahead and then let a boat drop back upon his quarry with orders to grapple and send armed men swarming up behind the grappling-irons. For a certainty, Nelson would have tried it.

  Meanwhile, there was a kind of stalemate. Halfhyde listened to the German bugles sounding throughout the squadron as the hands were called to fall in for the start of the day’s work. Soon after, the decks of the great wall-sided cruisers came alive with men, and the hoses and squeegees came out as the upper decks were washed down by barefoot seamen with their trousers rolled up to the knee. Hands were waved towards the British ships, and yells and catcalls came across, and much laughter. To the ships’ companies, if not to their Admiral, the affair was a joke. They could afford to laugh; Halfhyde lifted a fist in the air and shook it back at the flagship as he noted a stir on the Admiral’s bridge, much saluting, bowing and fawning as Vice-Admiral von Merkatz came up from his sea cabin.

  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 the ship knew anything, and to McRafferty their statements had the ring of truth. The only man who could have told him anything was Goss himself. Jesson once again made his point about the lunacy of Float being allowed his freedom; he made it loudly, insistently and rudely. McRafferty, all his obstinacy coming to the surface now, would have none of it. Every fit man, he said, was needed to work the ship and Float would continue to be available. With all the hands on deck, he wouldn’t be able to commit murder, McRafferty said frigidly, nor would he be able to steal from the cabins. And Jesson could make the best of it and take his own steps to protect his possessions.

  “WHAT THE devil is he up to now?” Graves asked in wonder. Halfhyde shrugged; von Merkatz was still drawing ahead, slowly but surely, and seemed to be manoeuvring to come across the Tacoma’s bows. Of the other two ships, the Stuttgart, next in the line, had altered a little to port and was coming up dead astern of the British ship. The Potsdam was also coming across to port of her original course and as Halfhyde watched she came across the Tacoma’s stern and then altered again to starboard to steam parallel with the clear intent of moving up on the Tacoma’s port beam.

  Suddenly it dawned on Halfhyde; he said, “I don’t think he means to board while he has way upon him. He’s trying to get us into a corner. To box us in!”

  “Force us to heave to?”

  “Exactly, sir. When he’s got all his ships into position, and dangerously close, he’ll reduce speed. We’ll be forced to follow suit. Then, when we’re stopped and surrounded, he’ll be able to board much more easily and with less risk to his seamen.”

  “Then we’ll have to stop him,” Graves said stoutly.

  “We shall be
impossibly outnumbered. You’ll have to hand me over.”

  “I shall not do that, Mr Halfhyde.”

  Halfhyde gave a faint smile. “It’s a noble gesture and I’m grateful. But I shall not put you to the risk.” He paced the deck, fists beating now at his forehead. “There must be a way. There always is. My kingdom, if I had one, for a stratagem!”

  But nothing would come. The German ships moved inexorably into their ordered positions. Graves handled his ship well, but every move he made to avoid the in-closing movement was at once countered by the Germans. His ship had not the speed in hand to make a dash away to port or starboard, while the Germans had just enough in reserve to use it to the best advantage, and as the Tacoma paid off to one side or the other, a cruiser was always there to turn her back again. Graves had taken all his canvas off so as to make for greater manoeuvrability and so as not to be forced to obey the wind; but it made no difference to his ability or lack of it to elude von Merkatz.

  Halfhyde watched the cruisers narrowly. Von Merkatz was taking a big risk, to his own ships as well as to the Tacoma. The fellow must be consumed with his hatred, his wish for revenge, and was pushing matters to the limit and beyond. That could, with luck, redound to the British advantage, if he, Halfhyde, could make it so. Possibly he could; he frowned in deep thought then smacked a fist into his palm, stopped his pacing and turned to Graves.

  “A favour, sir.”

  “Well?”

  “May I handle the ship myself, sir?”

  “Do you doubt my ability, Mr Halfhyde?”

  Hafhyde answered sincerely. “By no means, sir. You know your ship better than I. But I would feel more confident of myself if I were to have the handling…like the man who tries to drive the coach when not upon the box himself, it is harder to give directions than to have the reins in one’s own hands. I don’t know if you follow?”