Lieutenant Hornblower

“I’d read those orders,” said Hornblower instantly. “I’d rather be in trouble for having done something than for not having done anything.”

“I wonder,” said Bush. On the other hand a definite action could be made the subject of a courtmartial charge far more easily than the omission to do something; Bush felt this, but he had not the facility with words to express it easily.

“Those orders may detach us on independent service,” went on Hornblower. “God, what a chance for Buckland!”

“Yes,” said Bush.

The eagerness in Hornblower’s expression was obvious. If ever a man yearned for an independent command and the consequent opportunity to distinguish himself it was Hornblower. Bush wondered faintly if he himself was as anxious to have the responsibility of the command of a ship of the line in troubled waters. He looked at Hornblower with an interest which he knew to be constantly increasing. Hornblower was a man always ready to adopt the bold course, a man who infinitely preferred action to inaction; widely read in his profession and yet a practical seaman, as Bush had already had plenty of opportunity to observe. A student, yet a man of action; a fiery spirit and yet discreet—Bush remembered how tactfully he had acted during the crisis following the captain’s injury and how dexterously he had handled Buckland.

And—and—what was the truth about that injury to the captain? Bush darted a more searching glance than ever at Hornblower as he followed up that train of thought. Bush’s mind did not consciously frame the words ‘motive’ and ‘opportunity’ to itself—it was not that type of mind—but it felt its way along an obscure path of reasoning which might well have been signposted with those words. He wanted to ask again the question he had asked once before, but to do so would not merely invite but would merit a rebuff. Hornblower was established in a strong position and Bush could be sure that he would never abandon it through indiscretion or impatience. Bush looked at the lean eager face, at the long fingers drumming on the chart. It was not right or fit or proper that he should feel any admiration or even respect for Hornblower, who was not merely his junior in age by a couple of years—that did not matter—but was his junior as a lieutenant. The dates on their respective commissions really did matter; a junior was someone for whom it should be impossible to feel respect by the traditions of the service. Anything else would be u

“I’ll put these things away,” said Hornblower, rising from his chair. “I’m exercising my lowerdeck guns’ crews after the hands have had their di

Chapter VI

The lowerdeck guns had been secured, and the sweating crews came pouring up on deck. Now that the Renown was as far south as 30° north latitude the lower gundeck, even with the ports open for artillery exercise, was a warm place, and hauling those guns in and ru

The guns’ crews wiped their steaming foreheads and flung jests—jagged and unpolished like the flints in the soil from which they had sprung—back at their tormentors. It was exhilarating to an officer to see the high spirits of the men and to be aware of the good temper that prevailed; in the three days that had elapsed since the change in command the whole atmosphere of the ship had improved. Suspicion and fear had vanished; after a brief sulkiness the hands had found that exercise and regular work were stimulating and satisfactory.

Hornblower came aft, the sweat ru

“But what about the deck, Mr. Hornblower?” asked Roberts.

“A hand can swab it off in two minutes, sir,” replied Hornblower, wiping his face and looking at the blue sea overside with a longing that was obvious to the most casual glance. “I have fifteen minutes before I relieve you, sir—plenty of time.”

“Oh, very well, Mr. Hornblower.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hornblower, and he turned eagerly away with another touch of his hat, while Roberts and Bush exchanged glances which were as much amused as puzzled. They watched Hornblower give his orders.

“Captain of the waist! Captain of the waist, there!”

“Sir?”

“Get the washdeck pump rigged at once.”

“Rig the washdeck pump, sir?”

“Yes. Four men for the handles. One for the hose. Jump to it, now. I’ll be with you in two minutes.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The captain of the waist set about obeying the strange order after a glance at the receding figure. Hornblower was as good as his word; it was only two minutes before he returned, but now he was naked except for a towel draped sketchily round him. This was all very strange.

“Give way,” he said to the men at the pump handles.

They were dubious about all this, but they obeyed the order, and in alternate pairs they threw their weight upon the handles. Up—down, up—down; clank—clank. The seaman holding the hose felt it stir in his hands as the water from far overside came surging up along it; and next moment a clear stream of water came gushing out of it.

“Turn it on me,” said Hornblower, casting his towel aside and standing naked in the sunshine. The hoseman hesitated.

“Hurry up, now!”

As dubiously as ever the hoseman obeyed orders, turning the jet upon his officer, who rotated first this way and then that as it splashed upon him; an amused crowd was gathering to watch.

“Pump, you sons of seacooks!” said Hornblower; and obediently the men at the pump handles, now gri

Buckland had been standing aft at the taffrail, lost in thought and gazing down at the ship’s wake, but the clanking of the pump attracted his attention and he strolled forward to join Roberts and Bush and to look at the strange spectacle.

“Hornblower has some odd fancies,” he remarked, but he smiled as he said it—a rather pathetic smile, for his face bore the marks of the anxieties he was going through.

“He seems to be enjoying himself, sir,” said Bush.

Bush, looking at Hornblower revolving under the sparkling stream, was conscious of a prickling under his shirt in his heavy uniform coat, and actually had the feeling that it might be pleasurable to indulge in that sort of shower bath, however injurious it might be to the health.

“’Vast pumping!” yelled Hornblower. “Avast, there!”

The hands at the pumps ceased their labours, and the jet from the hose died away to a trickle, to nothing.

“Captain of the waist! Secure the pump. Get the deck swabbed.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Hornblower grabbed his towel and came trotting back along the maindeck. He looked up at the group of officers with a grin which revealed his exhilaration and high spirits.