.”
“Well,” blast her, he thought, she’s adding embarrassment to my frustration. “I adore Betty, but she’s six thousand miles away. Anyway—there’s a war on.”
“One wouldn’t think so, James, from your behaviour.” Illogically, that remark of her’s hurt, and he left in a temper, and then this long wait in the dark for Johan and David. Blast their eyes, too.
But they had a good excuse; they’d been watching the drill at Ponta Vermelha.
“Saw the whole thing from A to Z,” said Rohrbach. “It’s a piece of cake. The ships are blacked out except for navigation lights. When they’ve rounded number nine buoy and headed up the dredged channel, they make their signal letters by lamp to Ponta Vermelha and the signal station acknowledges. No permission to proceed or any bull like that. We saw four of them go through the same drill.”
“Fair enough,” said Johan. “They’ve got pilots on board at that stage, so there’s no need for anything else.”
The Newt lit a cigarette, the flare of the match illuminating their faces for a moment.
“I was swotting up the Admiralty sailing directions and charts this afternoon. The South Channel’s the normal oneout of this harbour but it’s fantastically complicated. Buoyed and lighted, but stinking with hazards. Navigator’s nightmare—shoals to the left of you, shoals to the right of you …”
“God, what a cliché,” said Johan.
The Newt sighed. “It’s not funny. Out towards Cabo da Inhaca, there’s a chain of shoals across the entrance to the bay. The channel runs through them—Canal do Sul—it’s a ninety degree turn on to it. Then a run up to Inhaca on a transit of two lights. Gave me the twitch reading about it. That’s where our troubles will start, unless Steve agrees to use the northern channel. Not buoyed and lighted and only used by fishing craft and Portuguese coasters, but there’s plenty of water.”
“My bet,” said Rohrbach quietly, “is that our troubles will start in the anchorage.”
The Newt puffed at his cigarette. “If you really want to be gloomy, remember that when we reach Inhaca there’s a pilot cutter waiting for us—slap in the fairway.”
Johan made a rude noise. “Let’s go the whole hog. Beyond the pilot cutter there are U-boats and Jerry raiders. So what!”
The Newt cleared his throat and fingered his moustache. “I checked up on the Hagenfels ’s gangway routine. She doesn’t keep a quartermaster on it all the time. Only when a boat comes off. When it’s gone, they hoist the foot about six feet clear of the water.”
“Could be a nuisance,” Rohrbach didn’t sound happy.
“Saw an interesting bod go off to the Hagenfels this afternoon, David.”
“Who was that, Newt?”
“The shipping agent—gent known as Herr Stauch. Got his name from Artur.”
“What did he look like?”
“Large, fat Hun, perspiring freely. Very busy, important character. He came ashore later with the Captain, this Lindemann chap. He looked a good type. Salt horse, I’d say.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
They told him about their night out with Mariotta and Cleo, the possibility of a party in the Hagenfels , and Mariotta’s remark: It will have to be soon or not at all .
The Newt said: “Doesn’t know how right she is. But is a party on board wise, David? Hell of a risk, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. She knows I’m German. She reckons Johan’s English-hater number one in these parts. It’ll be marvellous to get on board and have a look-see. With the vino flowing and the girls giggling, somebody’ll spill the beans.”
The Newt was sceptical. “Probably, Johan. I wonder what Steve’ll think?”
“He’ll be all for it,” Johan was emphatic. “Right up his alley. I know, we were shipmates.”
They decided they now had enough information for the rest of the party to come down. It was the fifteenth of November and the period of no moon was drawing closer.
Next morning Rohrbach
“Well,” blast her, he thought, she’s adding embarrassment to my frustration. “I adore Betty, but she’s six thousand miles away. Anyway—there’s a war on.”
“One wouldn’t think so, James, from your behaviour.” Illogically, that remark of her’s hurt, and he left in a temper, and then this long wait in the dark for Johan and David. Blast their eyes, too.
But they had a good excuse; they’d been watching the drill at Ponta Vermelha.
“Saw the whole thing from A to Z,” said Rohrbach. “It’s a piece of cake. The ships are blacked out except for navigation lights. When they’ve rounded number nine buoy and headed up the dredged channel, they make their signal letters by lamp to Ponta Vermelha and the signal station acknowledges. No permission to proceed or any bull like that. We saw four of them go through the same drill.”
“Fair enough,” said Johan. “They’ve got pilots on board at that stage, so there’s no need for anything else.”
The Newt lit a cigarette, the flare of the match illuminating their faces for a moment.
“I was swotting up the Admiralty sailing directions and charts this afternoon. The South Channel’s the normal oneout of this harbour but it’s fantastically complicated. Buoyed and lighted, but stinking with hazards. Navigator’s nightmare—shoals to the left of you, shoals to the right of you …”
“God, what a cliché,” said Johan.
The Newt sighed. “It’s not funny. Out towards Cabo da Inhaca, there’s a chain of shoals across the entrance to the bay. The channel runs through them—Canal do Sul—it’s a ninety degree turn on to it. Then a run up to Inhaca on a transit of two lights. Gave me the twitch reading about it. That’s where our troubles will start, unless Steve agrees to use the northern channel. Not buoyed and lighted and only used by fishing craft and Portuguese coasters, but there’s plenty of water.”
“My bet,” said Rohrbach quietly, “is that our troubles will start in the anchorage.”
The Newt puffed at his cigarette. “If you really want to be gloomy, remember that when we reach Inhaca there’s a pilot cutter waiting for us—slap in the fairway.”
Johan made a rude noise. “Let’s go the whole hog. Beyond the pilot cutter there are U-boats and Jerry raiders. So what!”
The Newt cleared his throat and fingered his moustache. “I checked up on the Hagenfels ’s gangway routine. She doesn’t keep a quartermaster on it all the time. Only when a boat comes off. When it’s gone, they hoist the foot about six feet clear of the water.”
“Could be a nuisance,” Rohrbach didn’t sound happy.
“Saw an interesting bod go off to the Hagenfels this afternoon, David.”
“Who was that, Newt?”
“The shipping agent—gent known as Herr Stauch. Got his name from Artur.”
“What did he look like?”
“Large, fat Hun, perspiring freely. Very busy, important character. He came ashore later with the Captain, this Lindemann chap. He looked a good type. Salt horse, I’d say.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
They told him about their night out with Mariotta and Cleo, the possibility of a party in the Hagenfels , and Mariotta’s remark: It will have to be soon or not at all .
The Newt said: “Doesn’t know how right she is. But is a party on board wise, David? Hell of a risk, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. She knows I’m German. She reckons Johan’s English-hater number one in these parts. It’ll be marvellous to get on board and have a look-see. With the vino flowing and the girls giggling, somebody’ll spill the beans.”
The Newt was sceptical. “Probably, Johan. I wonder what Steve’ll think?”
“He’ll be all for it,” Johan was emphatic. “Right up his alley. I know, we were shipmates.”
They decided they now had enough information for the rest of the party to come down. It was the fifteenth of November and the period of no moon was drawing closer.
Next morning Rohrbach
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