He went to the engine-room speaking tube:
“Below there, heave any muck you think likely to make smoke in the furnaces; there’s a lot of old rubber and canvas waste on the cable deck. I’ll tell Mr. Harman to have it sent down to you. I want to ’pear as if we were doin’ more than our best—yes, we’re caught and bein’ led to port, and we mean to have a try to get loose; keep a good head of steam, and keep your eye on the engine-room telegraph. I’ll be altering the speed now and then.”
He sent Harman to do what he said; then he stood watching the distant Minerva. She was now about two and a quarter miles ahead. The two vessels were going at about equal speed, with the balance perhaps in favour of the Minerva. He ordered the engines to half speed, and kept them so for a couple of minutes, then put them on to full speed again. The result of this proceeding was an almost imperceptible gain on the part of the cruiser.
In the next two hours, by the skilful use of this device, the distance between the two ships was increased to at least three and a half miles. Blood was content with that; so gradually had the increase been made that the Minerva, suspecting nothing, stood it, but Blood instinctively felt that she would not stand any more. The man had a keen psychological sense.
He was reckoning on a change of weather.
The wind had fallen absolutely dead, and the heat was terrific, simply because the air was charged with moisture. The captain knew these latitudes.
“I don’t see what you’re after,” said Harman, coming up on the bridge. “What’s the good of stealin’ a few cable len’ths out of her? We can’t get rid of her by day, for her guns can hit us at six miles, and if we made a show to bolt she’d turn and be on us like a cat pouncin’. She can do twenty-five knots to our twelve. Then at sundown she’s sure to close with us and keep us tied tight to her tail.”
“Maybe,” said the Captain.
He said nothing more.
An hour later he had his reward.