'We shouldn't think we could,' we shouted, as he seized his cap and ran up on deck, for the Commander wanted him.
We cleared for action that afternoon and just before dark got under way and stood out into the open sea, past El Castellan.
This clearing for action made it certain that the Captain was doubtful whether she'd surrender without fighting, and of course made us all more excited than ever.
'If she does fight, I hope the Hercules will come and help; she'll be a bit of a handful to tackle single-handed,' Barton sang out, and Billums laughed sarcastically and said, 'I thought you'd rather die than let them help you,' which made us rather angry.
The 'Angel' and I went in to have a yarn with the fat little A.D.C. and hear what he thought about it. He was very excited, and said that Captain Pelayo would die sooner than surrender—he seemed to know him very well. That night the Captain had him taken down below in the 'tiller flat,'[#] so that he would be out of danger if anything did happen, and his being taken down there made us all feel a bit creepy.
[#] A space right aft, below the water-line, where the steering engine and emergency hand-steering mechanism are situated.
Well, nothing happened all night; we simply 'mooned' about, backwards and forwards, near the entrance, and La Buena Presidente must have been hovering round, too, waiting till it was light enough to see her way into La Laguna, for, as it grew light enough, she was sighted not five miles away, steaming leisurely in towards the entrance. Although she was painted white she looked enormous.
The Captain was called, and ran up on the fore bridge in a twinkling, and sent 'Blotchy' Smith down with a wireless message to the Hercules. He showed it to me as he passed along the upper deck, 'La Buena Presidente is eight miles off El Castellar steaming towards it. Shall prevent her entering. Come south and prevent her escaping to sea.'
'She'll be here in three hours and a half,' 'Blotchy' shouted, as he ran aft, and I felt jolly glad, but rather wished it was minutes instead of hours.
Then 'General Quarters' was sounded, and we all rushed to our stations. Mr. Bigge and I got through the back of our 9.2 turret—the for'ard starboard one just under the projecting end of the fore bridge—and when we'd reported everything 'cleared away' and had filled our 'ready' rack with more shells, we climbed out of the sighting-hood and squatted on top of the turret, whilst they trained it for'ard and aft as far as it would go and raised and lowered the long gun, to test the hydraulic machinery. It was a perfectly lovely morning, the sea like glass, and the Hector's bows seemed just to push the water aside, not even breaking the surface. It was so jolly clear that we could see thousands of jelly-fish—all the colours of the rainbow—floating past under our sponson. It really was grand, and we sat there and watched the big ship coming slowly towards us with the sun rising just behind her.