“Boat or fire drill probably. They often exercise them at it on board passenger ships. Besides, I think you stated that it was dark.”
Dick pondered for a few moments. He had heard that Government officials were hard to move, and knew that, in hot countries, Englishmen who marry native wives sometimes grow apathetic and succumb to the climatic lethargy. But this was not all: he had to contend against the official dislike of anything informal and unusual. Had he been in the navy, his warning would have received attention, but as he was a humble civilian he had, so to speak, no business to know anything about such matters.
“Well,” he said, “you can make inquiries and see if my conclusions are right.”
The Vice-Consul smiled. “That is not so. You can pry into the coaling company’s affairs and, if you are caught, it would be looked upon as an individual impertinence. If I did anything of the kind, it would reflect upon the Foreign Office and compromise our relations with a friendly state. The Adexe wharf is registered according to the laws of this country as being owned by a native company.”
“Then go to the authorities and tell them what you know.”
“The difficulty is that I know nothing except that you have told me a somewhat improbable tale.”
“But you surely don’t mean to let the raider do what she likes? Her next victim may be a British vessel.”
“I imagine the British admiralty will attend to that, and I have already sent a cablegram announcing the loss of the French boat.”
Dick saw that he was doubted and feared that argument would be useless, but he would not give in.
“A raider must have coal and it’s not easy to get upon this coast,” he resumed. “You could render her harmless by cutting off supplies.”