“Well,” said Mortimer, “you’ve got away with lots of things a warrant officer’s got no business to, and they haven’t had to court-martial you yet. Go ahead and fix up your secret code and make your plans, and let me know when you’re ready to start.”
A few days later they met again. Evans reported himself ready to leave for the destroyer flotilla.
Mortimer said: “I wish you would look over the dramatis personæ in the fleet and size up who’s who as far as you can, especially when the main fleet gets out there, which will be some time in August. It’s hard for me to size them up from my desk in the department. If you are convinced that there’s anything radically wrong with the men at the top, give me one of your magic hints and I’ll send for you to come and tell me about it.”
They conferred at length over many phases of the great problem, arriving at a close and harmonious understanding on the main points of the task confronting the navy. It was arranged that Evans should be temporarily attached to a new destroyer that was about to sail for Punta Delgada, and on arrival, be attached to the mother-ship of the destroyer flotilla, a vessel similar to the old Melville that lay at Queenstown in 1918, equipped with repair shops and other facilities for the care of the destroyers. Here he was to be technical assistant to the radio material officer; and in a letter from the Bureau of Engineering it was explained that he was to visit the shore stations and see that everything was installed according to the latest engineering developments.
“What about your method of communicating with me?” asked Mortimer.
“There are two expert radio aides (civilians) in the Bureau of Engineering, who are highly intelligent and preeminently discreet,” answered Evans. “Their names are Tompkins and Rand. Keep those men on the job in the Bureau, and if I have anything to tell you they’ll pass it on to you.”
“How will you manage that?”
“I’ll fix it somehow. All you’ll have to do is to keep those two men there. If anything happens to either of them, notify the Intelligence Bureau at once, and tell them to lose no time and spare no pains probing the matter; then watch your step. If one dies, let the remaining one choose his successor and teach him the technique.”
Four days later Evans reported on board a new destroyer setting out to join the flotilla at Punta Delgada. During the first part of the journey she assisted a cruiser serving as ocean escort for a great convoy of merchant ships loaded with munitions and food for the armies of Northern Europe; but when in mid-ocean, she was detached from the convoy, and, speeding up to twenty knots, laid her course for Punta Delgada.
It was in the middle of a beautiful June afternoon as the destroyer was gliding over a glassy sea bathed in sunshine, when the lookout first sighted the cloud-capped mountains of Saint Michael’s. As they approached and coasted along the southern shore of the island, the clouds rolled away revealing the soft yet striking outline of the range clad in semi-tropical verdure. Presently, some miles ahead, they could discern the town of Punta Delgada shining in the afternoon sun; then across the breakwater the masts of many ships, destroyers, and auxiliary craft. The town took shape, scattered over the steep, sloping hillsides around the old harbor. Nearer they came, and at last slid smoothly through the opening in the net into the great new harbor. Before them spread a panorama that might well gladden the eyes of all on board after nine long days on the barren ocean. Gay-colored houses in pink, yellow, and white stucco, in brilliant relief of sun and shadow, breathing an Old-World atmosphere, lined the shore, while strange and picturesque trees and gardens dotted the slopes receding to the capricious outline of the green hills beyond. It seemed as if a magician’s wand had conjured out of the sea a city of a far-off age and of another world. And in the foreground, tied two by two at mooring buoys, the long, lean American destroyers spoke of the grim business of war.