“Get away with you! And what enemy would that be?”
“The Americans.”
“Well — it’s not my business.” He reached up and took the fish box from the man on deck.
“Please do this. I will pay well.”
The captain dropped the box and looked up. “How much is well?”
“Fifty pounds.”
The fisherman rubbed his beard in thought. “Done. Can I unload my catch first?”
“No. There is no time. And you’ll be coming right back.”
The captain thought about this, then nodded. “Tie your horse up and get aboard.” He bent and untied the line. A squall came up and rain spattered on the deck as the sail filled and they headed out to sea.
More squalls were coming in from the west: they hid the coast from sight when they swept over the fishing boat. The sea was empty of ships and Otfried sincerely hoped that it would stay that way.
But his good luck did not last. The captain estimated that they had come halfway to Scotland when he pointed out to another squall coming down upon them.
“Did you see that — just before the rain come up. A large steamer coming our way.”
“No. Are you sure?”
The fisherman nodded. “In a moment you’ll see for yourself.”
What to do? How to escape capture? Otfried had a sudden inspiration. “Turn about,” he said. “Head back towards Ireland.”
“What?”
“Do as I say man — hurry.”
After a moment’s hesitation the wheel came over. Captain Otfried was suddenly conscious of his uniform.
“I’m going below. If the ship is American say that you are from Scotland — going to sell your fish in Ireland. Do it!”
The rain blew past and there was the warship — with the American flag flying from her mast. Otfried closed the door all the way. Strained to listen at the crack between the door and the frame.
“Heave to!” someone shouted and the fishing boat swung about into the wind and lay pitching in the waves. “What’s your destination?”
“Carrickfergus. Sell my fish there.”
And spoken with a thick North Irish accent! Could the Americans tell the difference between that and Scots? The silence lengthened — and then the voice called out again.
“Not today, Scotty. Just turn about and go back to Scotland.”
Otfried smothered his cry of happiness, pounded his fist into his palm. It had worked! A simple ruse — the Americans were sealing off Ireland from all communication with the outside world. He felt the boat go about again, waited below until he was sure it was safe.
“You can come on deck,” the captain called out. “They’re gone. And now is the time for you to tell me just what is happening with the Yanks and all.”
“We have been at war with the United States, still are, as I am sure you know. I do believe that the war has now widened and includes Ireland.”
“The divil you say! What would they want to be doin’ that for?”
“I’m afraid that I am not in their confidence. But I imagine that their aim would be to drive the British out.”
The captain looked up at the sail and made an adjustment on the wheel. Loyalist or Republican, he did not say. Otfried started to query him, then changed his mind. This was not his business. What he had to do was make sure that the warning did go out. He had to get to the telegraph. Whitehall must be informed of the invasion.