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“Do not lecture me!” Encalada shouted it. He swallowed, took hold of himself and said more quietly, “She was not allowed to slip away. She escaped because of gross negligence and indiscipline on the part of one junior officer and he will be dealt with. And that gunboat’s violation of neutrality does not excuse yours, which preceded theirs and I believe made theirs possible. Cruisers there are but I refuse to accept their presence as proof that Gerda was a belligerent.” He took a breath. “I tell you this, Captain. Under International Law you may claim shelter in this port for twenty-four hours to make your repairs. That you may have, but nothing else. You will not be permitted to land nor to receive supplies of any kind, coal, water — nothing!”

Smith said equably, “Very well.” He would not beg. No, that was a lie. He would have begged for his ship and his crew if it would have done any good. But they did not need water or supplies. He had coal for only twenty-four hours’ steaming but that was sufficient because he would not be allowed to steam for twenty-four hours or anything like it. The cruisers waiting out in the darkness of the Pacific would see to that.

Encalada took his watch from his pocket and clicked open the case. “The time is twenty-one-ten hours. At this time tomorrow you will get under way and quit this port.”

“That is understood. I ask for nothing, except —”

“No exceptions!”

Smith carried on as if he had not heard. “There is a boy — a man — I must bury. He was killed in today’s action.”

Encalada stared at him. Smith’s face was grey under the lights, a tired face, a hard face, closed now, seeming to give nothing away, yet the Port Captain felt the stirring of an alien sympathy. But he kept his voice hard as he replied. “I see. That will be permitted but only a small party, the minimum necessary for due honours. Officers may wear swords, but other arms will not be permitted.”

“That, too, is understood.” Smith thought there might be an element of sympathy lurking in the eyes of Donoghue and Corrigan. It was obvious in their Flag-Lieutenant but his seniors were an impassive pair. The Port Captain’s fire and fury had turned to ice. Muller looked pleased.

The idea floated, bizarre, into Smith’s mind and he acted on it before cold propriety could make it look ridiculous as it was. He said straight-faced, apologetic but patiently sincere, “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled a very pleasant evening for many of you. In normal times I would have extended the hospitality of my ship, at least to attempt to make some recompense, but these are not normal times. However. Despite the times my officers and myself will be taking tea tomorrow afternoon and we would be delighted to welcome all of you. At, say, four in the afternoon?” Then he added, “With, of course, one obvious exception.” He grinned at Muller.

Those who understood him looked suspicious, as if this was some sort of practical joke, or like Encalada suspecting a trap, but not Donoghue and Corrigan. As Smith saluted and went down into the pinnace Donoghue thought it was almost an actor’s exit. An unusual young man. Corrigan wasn’t going to drink their goddam tea, but he wanted to look at that ship and her crew.

The pinnace sheered off and headed out towards Thunder, still functioning with a jaunty efficiency despite the dents in her stumpy funnel and her woodwork down one side showing charred-black through the blistered paint. Smith took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. Donoghue became aware that the women were a-twitter and gazing after the pinnace and he thought with surprise: Well, now.

* * *

Smith said, “They’ve given us twenty-four hours and at the end of that we sail. That’s all they’ll give us. No coal, no supplies, no assistance — nothing. It simplifies matters, anyway.”

Garrick breathed heavily. “They know what’s waiting for us outside and they’ll send us out with barely enough coal —”

“It will be enough.”

“Damn their bloody eyes!”

Smith blinked at this explosion from the stolid First Lieutenant, and said mildly, “You can’t blame them, you know. On the facts as they see them, as they know them, they’re more than justified.”

Vincent called, “Boat coming alongside, sir.”

It was Cherry, and Smith took him to the little sleeping cabin under the bridge. There was a certain amount of peace there. The deck cabin aft and the main cabin in the stern would be ringing like great bells to the hammering.

“I didn’t see you at the party.”

“No.” Cherry shrugged. “The British are in bad odour at the moment. But I heard and saw your meeting with Encalada.”

“Oh?”

Cherry nodded. “Twenty-four hours. And the rest of it. I’ll intercede and protest, of course. As soon as I’m ashore I’ll telegraph to Santiago, but frankly, I think their government will back him up.”

“So do I.”

Cherry said helplessly, “Well, is there anything I can do?”

Smith grinned sardonically, “You couldn’t rent Kansas for a couple of days?”

Cherry refused to be cheered and muttered, “And that damn battle-cruiser. Of all the luck!”

“One or two ways you can help —”

“Yes?”

Somers. They discussed the matter in practical terms and Cherry said he would see to all the necessary arrangements. “Anything else?”

“Newspapers, as always. Any English papers you can get hold of, we’ll be delighted to see.”

“Can do.”

“And last, but most important, the Gerda. The Chileans regard my action as indefensible, but if I can prove she was German they might change that to excusable.”

Cherry nodded agreement. “No doubt of it. They’d still hum and haw and they’d want an apology but the sting would be gone. Their old-fashioned looks would all be for the Herr Doktor.” He went on, “All her crew were in one hotel for one night only. Next day they were gone. I never had a chance to talk to any of them. I’ve sent word to Argentina but when, if, they find out anything there, it’ll be too late. I reckon the skipper might be in the German consulate but the others tucked away somewhere up-country, maybe on somebody’s farm so went out and scratched around but had no luck. I was on the way back tonight when I heard guns.”

Smith told Cherry the details of the boarding and sinking of the Gerda and the papers they had taken from her. “Somewhere aboard that ship there must be proof. Has a diver been down?”

Cherry shook his head, puzzled. “No. One of my men has been watching her. Nobody’s been near her.” He finished definitely, “But tomorrow I’ll see somebody goes down. If the proof is there we’ll have it.”

Cherry left, on his way to see Sarah Benson.

* * *

She was aboard Ariadne in a cabin of a comfortable size with a comfortable bunk. It called to her but she walked the deck away from its temptation and waited for Cherry, knowing he would come.

Smith had left her open-mouthed and speechless but when she went to Albrecht her protest was blistering. She received an icy reply, an apology, but: “The man didn’t know you were there for a start. He’d just fought a difficult and dangerous action, he’s been driven into a corner and there’s no help for him and he risked his ship to save yourself and a few more. On top of that he’d just learned that the boy who dragged you off the Elizabeth Bell had been killed. He may owe you an apology. You owe him a damned sight more than that, young lady.”