From Jonah's Hill, a lookout point 50m above the Israeli port of Ashdod, the view out to sea on Monday was one of implausible nautical tranquillity.

A handful of bathers dipped into the waves breaking onto the wide sandy beach in the baking sunshine; cargo boats unloaded onto the dock beneath towering cranes.

But out there – somewhere, beyond view – was the Mavi Marmara, the scene in the early hours of today of unexpected carnage which ended in the death of at least nine, possibly more, pro-Palestinian activists.

Jonah's Hill itself was heaving. Shirtless Israeli men draped in their national flag waved placards declaring "Well done IDF" in both Hebrew and English, chanting, singing and applauding their support for the military operation.

Thick cables snaked across the ground from thrumming generators, delivering power to dozens of international TV crews, broadcasting across the globe against the backdrop of the shimmering Mediterranean.

Amid the crowd, a sophisticated public relations operation was underway. Spinners and spokesmen from the Israeli military and government departments politely answered questions and offered their own narrative of the day's events. A barrage of emails and text message alerts firing into inboxes provided a background of electronic muzak.

Shahar Arieli, deputy spokesman for the ministry of foreign affairs, wearing a smart tie despite the heat, said two of the flotilla's boats had been brought into port.

All activists would be offered the chance of immediate deportation at Israel's expense "with their passports", he said. "We want them to leave as soon as possible," he added.

Those who declined would – "as long as they weren't involved in attacks on our troops" – be processed through Israel's justice system.

His patient courtesy was not matched by all those gathered on the hill. Chaim Cohen, a 52-year-old economic consultant from Givatayim, was dripping with both sweat and bile. "We have come to support our soldiers. It is obvious it [the Mavi Marmara] is a terrorist ship. We saw it on TV – they took out knives and put them in the stomachs of the IDF."

There was nothing to challenge the Israeli version of events. Repeated attempts to reach the cell and satellite phones of activists on board the flotilla were rebuffed; it was unclear whether their phones had been confiscated, jammed or if they were simply out of range.

By late afternoon on Monday, activists with lesser injuries were being brought to hospitals in coastal towns and cities from the smaller passenger ships. At the Barzilai medical centre in Ashkelon, just north of the Gaza Strip, a Greek man in a neck brace told reporters: "They hit me." Who? "Pirates," he answered.

A dazed man with a striking black eye was unloaded from an ambulance. There had been "some brutality" on board, he said, but the activists were non-violent. "We are all Palestinian now," he said as the doors of the ER closed behind him.