The Happy Return

“The Natividad is the prize of my King,” he said. “Perhaps he would not be pleased if I let her go.”

“He certainly would be displeased if he knew you had offended me,” said el Supremo. His eyebrows came closer together, and Hornblower heard Hernandez beside him take a quick breath. “I have noticed before, Captain Hornblower, that you have verged upon disrespect towards me, and I have been mild enough to attribute it to your foreign breeding.”

Hornblower was still thinking hurriedly. A little more opposition would cause this madman to order him out for execution, and if her captain were killed the Lydia would certainly not fight for el Supremo. There would indeed be a complicated situation in the Pacific, and the Lydia, with friends neither among the rebels nor among the government, would probably never reach home again—especially with the unimaginative Bush in command. England would lose a fine frigate and a fine opportunity. He must sacrifice his prize money, the thousand pounds or so with which he had wanted to dazzle Maria’s eyes. But at all costs he must keep his prisoners alive.

“I am sure it is my foreign breeding which is to blame, Supremo,” he said. “It is difficult for me to express in a foreign tongue all the delicate shades of meaning which it is necessary to convey. How could it possibly be imagined that I could be lacking in respect to el Supremo?”

El Supremo nodded. It was satisfactory to see that a madman who attributed almightiness to himself was naturally inclined to accept the grossest flattery at its face value.

“The ship is yours, Supremo,” went on Hornblower, “she has been yours since my men first set foot on her deck last night. And when in the future a vast Armada sails the Pacific under el Supremo’s direction I only wish it to be remembered that the first ship of that fleet was taken from the Spaniards by Captain Hornblower at el Supremo’s orders.”

El Supremo nodded again, and then turned to Hernandez.

“General,” he said, “make arrangements for five hundred men to go on board the ships at noon. I will sail with them and so will you.”

Hernandez bowed and departed; it was easy to see that there was no chance of el Supremo doubting his own divinity as a result of disrespect or hesitation on the part of his subordinates. His lightest order, whether it dealt with a thousand pigs or five hundred men, was obeyed instantly. Hornblower made his next move at once.

“Is the Lydia,” he asked, “to have the honour of carrying el Supremo to La Libertad? My crew would greatly appreciate die distinction.”

“I am sure they would,” said el Supremo.

“I hardly venture to ask it,” said Hornblower, “but could my officers and I aspire to the honour of your dining with us before our departure?”

El Supremo considered for a moment.

“Yes,” he said, and Hornblower had to suppress the sigh of relief he was on the point of drawing. Once el Supremo was on board the Lydia it might be possible to deal with him with less difficulty.

El Supremo clapped his hands, and instantly, as though by clockwork, a knocking at the brass-studded door heralded the arrival of the swarthy major-domo. He received in a single sentence orders for the transfer of el Supremo’s household to the Lydia.

“Perhaps,” said Hornblower, “you will permit me to return to my ship now to make arrangements for your reception, Supremo.”

He received another nod in reply.

“At what time shall I be at the beach to receive you?”

“At eleven.”

Hornblower, as he came out into the patio, thought with sympathy of the oriental vizier who never came out of the royal presence without feeling to see if his head were still on his shoulders. And on the Lydia’s deck, the moment the twittering of the pipes had died away, Hornblower was giving his orders.

“Have those men taken below at once,” he said to Bush, pointing to the Spanish prisoners. “Put them in the cable tier under guard. Call the armourer and have them put in irons.”

Bush made no attempt to conceal his surprise, but Hornblower wasted no time on explanations to him.

“Señores,” he said, as the officers came by him. “You are going to be harshly treated. But believe me, if you are as much as seen during the next few days you will be killed. I am saving your lives for you.”

Next Hornblower turned back to his first lieutenant.

“Call all hands, Mr. Bush.”

The ship was filled with the sound of horny feet pattering over pine boards.

“Men!” said Hornblower. “There is coming aboard today a prince of this country who is in alliance with our own gracious King. Whatever happens—mark my words, whatever happens–he is to be treated with respect. I will flog the man who laughs, or the man who does not behave towards Señor el Supremo as he would to me. And we shall be sailing tonight with this gentleman’s troops on board. You will look after them as if they were Englishmen. And better than that. You would play tricks on English soldiers. The first man to play a trick on any of these men I shall flog within the hour. Forget their colour. Forget their clothes. Forget that they ca

Down in the cabin Polwheal was waiting faithfully with the dressing gown and towel for his captain’s bath, which ought according to time table have been taken two hours back.

“Put out my best uniform again,” snapped Hornblower. “And I want the after cabin ready for a state di

There was plenty to do. Bush and Rayner the first and fourth lieutenants, and Simmonds the marine officer, and Crystal the master, had to be invited to the di

Hornblower was just looking across to the Natividad, where she swung with her white ensign over the red and gold of Spain, wondering what steps he should take with regard to her, when a boat came ru

“I am Vice-Admiral Don Cristobal de Crespo,” he said.

Hornblower could not help but look him up and down. The Vice-Admiral wore gold earrings, and his gold embroidered coat did not conceal the raggedness of the grey shirt beneath. At least he wore boots, of soft brown leather, into which were tucked his patched white trousers.

“Of el Supremo’s service?” asked Hornblower.

“Of course. May I introduce my officers. Ship-captain Andrade. Frigate-captain Castro. Corvette-captain Carrera. Lieutenants Barrios and Barillas and Cerno. Aspirants Diaz—”

The dozen officers introduced under these resounding titles were barefooted Indians, the red sashes round their waists stuck full of pistols and knives. They bowed awkwardly to Hornblower; one or two of them wore expressions of brutish cruelty.

“I have come,” said Crespo, amiably, “to hoist my flag in my new ship Natividad. It is el Supremo’s wish that you should salute it with the eleven guns due to a vice-admiral.”

Hornblower’s jaw dropped a little at that. His years of service had grained into him despite himself a deep respect for the details of naval pageantry, and he was irked by the prospect of giving this ragged-shirted rascal as many guns as Nelson ever had. With an effort he swallowed his resentment He knew he had to go through with the farce to the bitter end if he was to glean any success. With an empire at stake it would be foolish to strain at points of ceremony.