Two days later, Evans, listening on his specially prepared receiver at the appointed hour when Kendrick was wont to transmit intelligence from Gibraltar, recognized the significant combinations of sounds which meant there was news for him. Listening eagerly, with quickening pulse he followed the message which came from Heringham. Careful investigation, it said, had satisfied him that implicit trust was still placed in the genuineness of the stolen code. Evans breathed freely once more. The talisman was still good.
At last, early in April, orders were issued to the various units of the fleet to be ready for sea on a certain night, and a handful of men knew that this foreshadowed more than a practice cruise. This handful of men knew that, by dawn of the morning following the designated night, the entire fleet would be on the open sea.
Two days of feverish preparation followed, during which Evans made hasty visits in the rôle of family doctor, or rather chief consultant, to the radio apparatus of the fleet, diagnosing ailments, giving advice and, when necessary, applying radical treatment to disordered gear.
As the last day before the departure drew to a close, weary with his labors, but satisfied that the fleet was ready for its task, he went to the Borge garden at dusk and ascended the old watch-tower once more. The moon was rising over the sea, and its broad, shimmering wake on the water was broken in a hundred places by the dark forms of great ships, emblems of concentrated might. The moon rose higher till its outline was broken by the branches of the old cedar tree which formed a perfect frame for the great tableau of gallant ships on the shining water. Evans sat and drank in the glory of the picture before him, which for sheer beauty was almost unsurpassed in all his experience; its splendor took his breath away. And as he sat gazing far off over the moonlit sea with the soft air of the spring night fanning his cheek, a sense of the glamour of the great navy with its power and majesty, swept over him. A wild thrill went through him, and long-forgotten feelings of his boyhood seized him. He yearned passionately to do great deeds and play an heroic part in this war for civilization. And as the expansive feeling took hold of him he contemplated his own rôle as he saw it—a technical man fussing over small details in a small part of the great machine that was going forth to fight—a tiny cog in the works of a vast organization of men, almost a non-combatant compared with the men who would direct the battle, or the spotters in the fighting top. With a pang he told himself that perhaps his part in the war was already done, and the yearning to express the heroic impulse within him must die unfulfilled. Then he rebuked himself for thinking of his own paltry rôle as if it were of consequence. The sublimity of the scene before his eyes inspired him to a larger perspective in which self was submerged and the cause was all.
“If the cause only triumphs,” he thought, “that’s all that matters. And the cause will triumph.”
The majestic fleet dotting the silvery surface of the moonlit sea now seemed to him the symbol of a great hope, and yet, symbol though it was, it was something very personal and very dear to him. Then there came back to him another feeling, long buried deep in the remote past, a feeling once closely linked with the ardent yearning for great deeds, that had fired his youth. There rose before his eyes the vision of one who long ago had meant more to him than life itself, one who when his hopes seemed brightest had been snatched from him through the influence of a dominating and ambitious mother.... From this his thoughts turned to the memory of his own mother, unfailing in her sympathy, gone now, leaving him the priceless heritage of her devotion.
It was time to return to the flagship. Descending through the shadowy paths of the old garden, he came out at last and threaded his way through the picturesque streets of the town to the harbor front where the Old-World architecture around the landing seemed shrouded in mystery in the pale moonlight. And as he took his place in the motor-sailer, he felt that his spirit had been far away from the little things that make up the daily life in the fleet, now crowding in on his consciousness and dragging him rudely back from Olympian heights.
By dawn the next morning the vast fleet—battleships, cruisers, destroyers and all—had vanished.
CHAPTER XIV
THE BATTLE
At Communication Headquarters of the enemy in Gibraltar there were busy times. Radio experts, decoding experts, and Intelligence officers were especially active in analyzing Allied naval dispatches. The code system to which Bela procured the key had been verified by repeated observation of fleet maneuvers, thus completing their assurance that the Allies still placed confidence in it, and were changing code from month to month according to the schedule outlined in the key.