Free Assassin's Honor (9781561648207) by Robert N. Macomber Page B

though, they asked the very same thing about this ship.”
    â€œDid they really? Anything else curious about them?”
    A gulp of coffee was followed by, “Nothing, except for the fellow our pilot boat brought out to them. Older European man, maybe German, maybe Russian, I don’t know. Said he missed the last launch out to the anchorage before the ship weighed, so he asked if the pilot boat could take him when they went out to get me.”
    I chuckled and shook my head. “Guess he was in trouble for missing ship’s movement, wasn’t he? Probably was passed out in a trollop’s bed when the sun came up. Did they put him under disciplinary arrest?”
    â€œNo, I think not. Officers weren’t upset with him a bit. He’s not in the navy, I can tell you that.”
    â€œHow do you know?” I asked.
    Rolle shook his head. “This fellow was dressed like a store clerk, and sober as a Baptist. Very quiet. No color in his skin. No sway to his walk. Uncomfortable on the boat out, my crew tells me, and when I saw him board the ship he looked out of place. Oh yes, he’s a landsman if ever I saw one, through and through. Acted untouchable, like a passenger. Carried a valise and case.”
    â€œDid you hear a name?”
    â€œNever got introduced to him. Neither did the pilot boat crew. You surely seem interested in him, Captain. Who was he?”
    Captain Rolle was no fool, and knew something was afoot, so I was semi-candid with him. “I have no idea. We don’t get German warships at Key West often. I was just wondering why they are here. And why they left so suddenly.”
    â€œSo was I, Captain. So was I,” agreed the pilot as he gulped down the last of the coffee. “Never learned why they got under way all of a sudden this morn. They were supposed to stay for three days.”
    I ended on a relaxed note. “Yeah, well, there’s probably nothing to it. They needed a liberty port for the men and Key West is convenient and safe. The fellow who came out to the ship is probably just some German merchant who missed his packetsteamer, saw the opportunity, and hitched a ride. Warships get those requests on distant stations all the time. I know we do.”
    â€œMaybe,” said Rolle.
    I could tell he didn’t believe it any more than I did.

14
The Yucatan
    Yucatán Channel
    Monday afternoon
    12 December 1892
    We lost sight of
Gneisenau
while off Cuba that first evening, shortly after sunset. I expected as much. Though we were faster under steam alone, she was larger and faster downwind under sail and engine.
    In order to escape the eastbound main current of the Gulf Stream and its progenitor, the northbound Yucatán Current,
Bennington
steamed close along the northwest coast of Cuba to use the westbound countercurrent—but not too close. We were careful to maintain at least four miles of distance offshore, a mile beyond the Spanish territorial limit. Each hourly position fix was double-checked by both officers on watch. Our vigilance in this regard was reinforced by a steam cutter from
La Guardia Costera
that paralleled us inshore as long as we were within sight of the island.
    No one on board
Bennington
except Rork knew why I wasso adamant about our exacting course. The others were not privy, and hopefully would never be privy, to the fact Rork and I were considered personae non gratae by the Spanish authorities, following a rather violent end to our last ONI mission there four years earlier. In fact, there might even be warrants for murder waiting for us there.
    Once we left the Cuban coast at Cabo de San Antonio and headed southwest across the Yucatán Channel, the seas built to gigantic proportions, every bit of twenty feet high. This was the product of a thirty-knot northwesterly wind, which arrived later that day. Blowing across the Gulf of Mexico, it collided with the strong current coming up from the Caribbean to the south.