“You do not mean—you are not asking us to fire on the British fleet?”
“No, no,” I reassured him.
“Ah, that is all right. For the moment I confess you frightened me. They say we shall have to pass Admiral Beresford!”
“What are you prepared to do?” I asked, concealing my deep interest in the reply.
Vassileffsky’s manner became slightly reproachful.
“You did not bargain with me to attack an armed ship,” he said in the tone of one who reminds another of his agreement. “It was understood that we were to attack merchantmen, like the Vladivostockers.”
At last I had a direct confirmation of my suspicions.
“And what is the tone of the fleet generally?” I inquired.
“I have done my best to make them all of the same mind. They will do their best, depend on it. I think there will be a few English vessels mysteriously lost at sea during the next two or three months! The prize courts cannot always be depended on.”
By an effort I restrained my indignation at these atrocious hints. The Baltic Fleet was about to seek the open sea, secretly intending to miss no chance of sinking a British merchantman that should be unlucky enough to cross its path.