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In the dawn they had paddled out of one of the unguarded cha
HMS. Renounce.
Two long days of activity without rest, and Sebastian was groggy. Rosa sat beside him on the couch. She leaned across and touched his arm, her eyes dark with concern.
Neither of them was taking any part in the conference in which the other persons in the crowded cabin were deeply involved.
Joyce sat as chairman, and beside him an older heavier man with bushy grey eyebrows and a truculent jaw, hair brushed in streaks across his pate in an ineffectual attempt to conceal his baldness. This was
Armstrong, Captain of HMS. Pegasus, the other cruiser of the blockade squadron.
"Well, it looks as though Blitcher has made good her damage, then.
If she has fired her boilers, we can expect her to break out any day now von Kleine would not burn up good fuel to keep his stokers warm."
He said it with relish, a fighting man anticipating a good hard fight.
"There's a message I'd like to give her from Bloodhound and Orion an old account to settle." But Joyce also had a message, one that had its original the desk of Admiral Sir Percy Howe, Commander-in-Chief, South
Atlantic and Indian Oceans. In part this message read: "The safety of your squadron considered secondary to containing Blitcher. Risk involved in delaying until Blucher leaves the delta before engaging her is too high. Absolutely imperative that she be either destroyed or blocked at her present anchorage. Consequences of Blitcher ru
and failing also effective offensive action against B14cher before 30
July 1915, you are hereby ordered to scuttle Renounce and Pegasus in the cha
Bloodhound to deal with." His tone changed slightly. "We'll have to look lively. New moon in three days so Blitcher will have dark nights.
There could be a change in the weather..." Armstrong was looking a little worried now, we'll have to tighten up."
"Read this," said
Joyce, and passed the flimsy to Armstrong. He read it.
"My God!" he gasped. "Scuttle. Oh, my God!"
"There are two cha
"Jesus God!" swore
Armstrong in horror. "There must be another way.
"I think there is" said Joyce, and looked across at Sebastian.
"Mr. Oldsmith," he spoke gently, "would it be possible for you to get on board the German cruiser once again?" There were tiny lumps of yellow mucus in the corner of Sebastian's bloodshot eyes, but the stain that darkened his skin concealed the rings of fatigue under them.
"I'd rather not, old chap." He ran his hand thoughtfully over his shaven scalp and the stubble of new hair rasped under his fingers. "It was one of the most unpleasant hours of my life."
"Quite," said Captain
Joyce. "Quite so! I wouldn't have asked you, had I not considered it to be of prime importance." Joyce paused and pursed his lips to whistle softly the first bar of Chopin's "Funeral March', then he sighed and shook his head. "If I were to tell you that you alone have it in your power to save both the cruisers of this squadron from destruction and to protect the lives of fifteen thousand British soldiers and seamen. how would you answer then?" Glumly, Sebastian sagged back against the couch and closed his eyes.
"Can I have a few hours sleep first?" It was exactly the size of a box of twenty-four Monte Crista Havana Cigars, for that had been its contents before Renounce's chief engine room artificer and the gu
It lay on the centre of Captain Joyce's desk, while the artificer explained its purpose to the respectful audience that stood around him.
"It's very simple," started the artificer in an accent that was as bracing as the fragrance of heather and highland whisky.
"It would have to be. " commented Fly
"All you do is lift the lid." The artificer suited action to the words, and even Fly
With love, Iris.
Christmas 1914." Captain Arthur Joyce stilled a sentimental pang of regret with the thought that Iris would understand.