Part 15 (1/2)
”Was it all right?” said he, over the bulwarks.
”Vaccination ain't in it. She's took beautiful. But where's 267, Sir?”
Pyecroft replied.
”Gone. We came here as the fog lifted. I gave the _Devolution_ four. Was that you behind us?”
”Yes, sir; but I only got in three on the _Devolution_. I gave the _Cryptic_ nine, though. They're what you might call more or less vaccinated.”
He lifted me inboard, where Moorshed and six pirates lay round the _Agatha's_ hatch. There was a hint of daylight in the cool air.
”Where is the old man?” I asked.
”Still selling 'em fish, I suppose. He's a darling! But I wish I could get this filthy paint off my hands. Hallo! What the deuce is the _Cryptic_ signalling?”
A pale masthead light winked through the last of the fog. It was answered by a white pencil to the southward.
”Destroyer signalling with searchlight.” Pyecroft leaped on the stern- rail. ”The first part is private signals. Ah! now she's Morsing against the fog. 'P-O-S-T'--yes, 'postpone'--'D-E-P-' (go on)! 'departure--till-- further--orders--which--will--be com” (he's dropped the other m) ”'unicated--verbally. End,'.” He swung round. ”_Cryptic_ is now answering: 'Ready--proceed--immediately. What--news--promised--destroyer-- flotilla?'”
”Hallo!” said Moorshed. ”Well, never mind, They'll come too late.”
”Whew! That's some 'igh-born suckling on the destroyer. Destroyer signals: 'Care not. All will be known later.' What merry beehive's broken loose now?”
”What odds! We've done our little job.”
”Why--why--it's Two Six Seven!”
Here Pyecroft dropped from the rail among the fishy nets and shook the _Agatha_ with heavings. Moorshed cast aside his cigarette, looked over the stern, and fell into his subordinate's arms. I heard the guggle of engines, the rattle of a little anchor going over not a hundred yards away, a cough, and Morgan's subdued hail. ... So far as I remember, it was Laughton whom I hugged; but the men who hugged me most were Pyecroft and Moorshed, adrift among the fishy nets.
There was no semblance of discipline in our flight over the _Agatha's_ side, nor, indeed, were ordinary precautions taken for the common safety, because (I was in the Berthon) they held that patent boat open by hand for the most part. We regained our own craft, cackling like wild geese, and crowded round Moorshed and Hinchcliffe. Behind us the _Agatha's_ boat, returning from her fish-selling cruise, yelled: ”Have 'ee done the trick?
Have 'ee done the trick?” and we could only shout hoa.r.s.ely over the stern, guaranteeing them rum by the hold-full.
”Fog got patchy here at 12:27,” said Henry Salt Hinchcliffe, growing clearer every instant in the dawn. ”Went down to Brixham Harbour to keep out of the road. Heard whistles to the south and went to look. I had her up to sixteen good. Morgan kept on shedding private Red Fleet signals out of the signal-book, as the fog cleared, till we was answered by three destroyers. Morgan signalled 'em by searchlight: 'Alter course to South Seventeen East, so as not to lose time,' They came round quick. We kept well away--on their port beam--and Morgan gave 'em their orders.” He looked at Morgan and coughed.
”The signalman, acting as second in command,” said Morgan, swelling, ”then informed destroyer flotilla that _Cryptic_ and _Devolution_ had made good defects, and, in obedience to Admiral's supplementary orders (I was afraid they might suspect that, but they didn't), had proceeded at seven knots at 11:23 p. M. to rendezvous near Channel Islands, seven miles N.N.W. the Casquet light. (I've rendezvoused there myself, Sir.) Destroyer flotilla would therefore follow cruisers and catch up with them on their course.
Destroyer flotilla then dug out on course indicated, all funnels sparking briskly.”
”Who were the destroyers?”
”_Wraith, Kobbold, Stiletto_, Lieutenant-Commander A. L. Hignett, acting under Admiral's orders to escort cruisers received off the Dodman at 7 P.
M. They'd come slow on account of fog.”
”Then who were you?”
”We were the _Afrite_, port-engine broke down, put in to Torbay, and there instructed by _Cryptic_, previous to her departure with _Devolution_) to inform Commander Hignett of change of plans. Lieutenant-Commander Hignett signalled that our meeting was quite providential. After this we returned to pick up our commanding officer, and being interrogated by _Cryptic_, marked time signalling as requisite, which you may have seen. The _Agatha_ representing the last known rallying-point--or, as I should say, pivot- s.h.i.+p of the evolution--it was decided to repair to the _Agatha_ at conclusion of manoeuvre.”
”Is there such a thing as one fine big drink aboard this one fine big battles.h.i.+p?” ”Can do, sir,” said Pyecroft, and got it. Beginning with Mr.
Moorshed and ending with myself, junior to the third first-cla.s.s stoker, we drank, and it was as water of the brook, that two and a half inches of stiff, treacly, Navy rum. And we looked each in the other's face, and we nodded, bright-eyed, burning with bliss.
Moorshed walked aft to the torpedo-tubes and paced back and forth, a captain victorious on his own quarterdeck; and the triumphant day broke over the green-bedded villas of Torquay to show us the magnitude of our victory. There lay the cruisers (I have reason to believe that they had made good their defects). They were each four hundred and forty feet long and sixty-six wide; they held close upon eight hundred men apiece, and they had cost, say, a million and a half the pair. And they were ours, and they did not know it. Indeed, the _Cryptic_, senior s.h.i.+p, was signalling vehement remarks to our address, which we did not notice.