“Thank you,” von Dattenberg said, and walked off the flying bridge into the wheelhouse, then through it to the chart room, and from there to the door to the master’s cabin.
De Banderano waved him in. A table had been set with a crisp white tablecloth and silver. A steward—not the one who had given von Dattenberg the coffee—immediately began to deliver breakfast.
It was an impressive display of food. They were served a basket of breads and rolls, thin slices of ham rolled into tubes, a plate of curled butter, and another of jams and marmalades.
De Banderano poked at the ham tubes with his fork, then announced: “A ham steak, please, Ricardo. Two eggs, up.”
“Yes, sir,” the steward said, and looked at von Dattenberg. “Capitán?”
“Not for me, thank you,” von Dattenberg said, then immediately changed his mind. “Yes, please. Same thing.” He met de Banderano’s eyes. “God only knows when I’ll eat this well again.”
“Yes, sir.”
The steward had just poured von Dattenberg another cup of coffee—this time into a delicate Meissen cup sitting on a saucer—when the third mate, serving as officer of the deck, appeared at the door.
“Excuse me, Capitán. There is a submarine dead ahead at maybe three kilometers.”
“Can you read her flag?”
“No, sir. The submarine could be anything.”
“Perhaps it’s Swiss,” de Banderano said. “Have the Oerlikons manned just in case. I have never trusted the Swiss navy.”
Von Dattenberg chuckled.
The odds against any submarine but a U-boat not immediately submerging when spotting a ship were enormous. And there was no Swiss navy.
The Ciudad de Cádiz had a half-dozen Oerlikon 20mm machine guns mounted in various places in her superstructure, all but two of them behind false bulkheads that could be swung quickly out of the way.
“Yes, sir.”
The third mate returned before von Dattenberg and de Banderano had finished their coffee.
“The Oerlikons are manned, sir, and we have notified the U-405.”
“Very well,” de Banderano said. “Capitán von Dattenberg and I will be on the bridge shortly.”
“Send, Lie along our port side,” Capitán de Banderano ordered the seaman standing beside him with a signaling lamp.
“Lie alongside our port side. Aye, aye, sir,” the signalman said, and began tapping his key.
“That’s the U-409,” von Dattenberg said.
“You know her? Her master?”
“I don’t know if I do or not,” von Dattenberg said.
“Submarine sends, Will lie along your port,” the signalman reported.
“Very well,” de Banderano said. “Make all preparations to take passengers and cargo aboard, with refueling and replenishment of food supplies to follow. Have the galley prepared to feed her crew. Have the table set in the wardroom to feed officers. Alert the laundry.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the third mate responded.
“Take the helm, Señor Sanchez.”
“I have the helm, sir,” Third Mate Sanchez said.
“Why don’t we go below, Capitán, and greet our visitors?” Capitán de Banderano suggested.