The Happy Return

The next letter was flamboyantly sealed and addressed—it was a letter of welcome from the Viceroy of Peru assuring him that all Spanish America was at his disposal, and hoping that he would make full use of all facilities so that he would speedily be ready to help the Spanish nation in its sacred mission of sweeping the French usurper back to his ke

“Ha-h’m,” said Hornblower—the Spanish viceroy did not know yet about the fate of the Natividad, nor about the new enterprise of el Supremo. He might not be so cordial when he heard about the Lydia’s part in these occurrences.

The third letter was sealed merely with a wafer and was addressed in a feminine hand. The Spanish officer had spoken about a letter from the English lady in Panama—what in the world was an English lady doing there? Hornblower slit open the letter and read it.

The Citadel,

Panama.

Lady Barbara Wellesley presents her compliments to the captain of the English frigate. She requests that he will be so good as to convey her and her maid to Europe, because Lady Barbara finds that owing to an outbreak of yellow fever on the Spanish Main she ca

Hornblower folded the letter and tapped it on his thumb nail in meditation. The woman was asking an impossibility, of course. A crowded frigate sailing round the Horn was no place for females. She seemed to have no doubt about it, all the same; on the contrary, she seemed to assume that her request would be instantly granted. That name Wellesley, of course, gave the clue to that. It had been much before the public of late. Presumably the lady was a sister or an aunt to the two well-known Wellesleys—the Most Hon. the Marquis Wellesley, K.P., late Governor General of India and now a member of the Cabinet, and General the Hon. Sir Arthur Wellesley, K.B., the victor of Assaye and now pointed at as England’s greatest soldier after Sir John Moore. Hornblower had seen him once, and had noticed the high arched arrogant nose and the imperious eye. If the woman had that blood in her she would be the sort to take things for granted. So she might, too. An impecunious frigate captain with no influence at all would be glad to render a service to a member of that family. Maria would be pleased as well as suspicious when she heard that he had been in correspondence with the daughter of an Earl, the sister of a Marquis.

But this was no time to stop and think about women. Hornblower locked the letters in his desk and ran up on deck; forcing a smile as he approached the Spanish captain.

“Greeting to the new allies,” he said. “Señor, I am proud to be serving with Spain against the Corsican tyrant.”

The Spaniard bowed.

“We were very much afraid, Captain,” he said, “lest you should fall in with the Natividad before you heard the news, because she has not heard it either. In that case your fine frigate would have come to serious harm.”

“Ha-h’m,” said Hornblower. This was more embarrassing than ever; he turned and snapped out an order to the midshipman of the watch. “Bring the prisoners up from the cable tier. Quickly!”

The boy ran, and Hornblower turned back again to the Spanish officer.

“I regret to have to tell you, señor, that by evil chance the Lydia met the Natividad a week ago.”

The Spanish captain looked his surprise. He stared round the ship, at the meticulous good order, the well set up rigging. Even a Spaniard frigate captain could see that the frigate had not been engaged in a desperate action lately.

“But you did not fight her, Captain?” he said. “Perhaps—”

The words died away on his lips as he caught sight of a melancholy procession approaching them along the gangway. He recognised the captain and the lieutenants of the Natividad. Hornblower plunged feverishly into an explanation of their presence; but it was not easy to tell a Spanish captain that the Lydia had captured a Spanish ship of twice her force without receiving a shot or a casualty—it was harder still to go on and explain that the ship was now sailing under the flag of rebels who had determined to destroy the Spanish power in the new world. The Spaniard turned white with rage and injured pride. He turned upon the captain of the Natividad and received confirmation of Hornblower’s story from that wretched man’s lips; his shoulders were bowed with sorrow as he told the story which would lead inevitably to his courtmartial and his ruin.

Bit by bit the newcomer from the lugger heard the truth about recent events, about the capture of the Natividad, and the success of el Supremo’s rebellion. He realised that the whole of the Spanish overlordship of the Americas was in jeopardy, and as he realised that, a fresh and harassing aspect of the situation broke in upon him.

“The Manila galleon is at sea!” he exclaimed. “She is due to arrive at Acapulco next month. The Natividad will intercept her.”

One ship a year crossed the wide Pacific from the Philippines, never bearing less than a million sterling in treasure. Her loss would cripple the bankrupt Spanish government hopelessly. The three captains exchanged glances—Hornblower was telling himself that this was why el Supremo had agreed so readily to the Lydia sailing south westward; he had doubtless been pleased at the thought of the Natividad to the north eastward acquiring this wealth for him. It would take the Spaniards months to bring round the Horn a ship capable of dealing with the Natividad, and in the interval el Supremo would enjoy all those advantages of sea power which Hornblower had foreseen for the Lydia. The rebellion would be so firmly rooted that nothing would put it down, especially as, apparently, the Spaniards of Spain were engaged in a life-and-death struggle with Bonaparte and would have neither ships nor men to spare for America. Hornblower could see where lay his duty.

“Very well,” he a

All the Spanish officers looked their relief at that.

“Thank you, Captain,” said the officer of the lugger. “You will call in at Panama to consult the Viceroy first?”

“Yes,” snapped Hornblower.

In a world where news took months to travel, and where complete upheavals of international relationships were not merely possible but likely, he had learned now by bitter experience to keep in the closest contact with the shore; his misery was in no way allayed by the knowledge that the present difficulties were occasioned merely by his strict obedience to orders—and he knew, too, that the Lords of the Admiralty would not allow that point to influence them in their opinion of a captain who could cause such terrible trouble.

“Then,” said the captain of the lugger. “I will bid you good-bye for the time. If I reach Panama first, I will be able to arrange a welcome for you. Perhaps you will allow my compatriots to accompany me?”

“No I won’t,” rasped Hornblower. “And you, sir, will keep under my lee until we drop anchor.”

The Spaniard shrugged and yielded. At sea one can hardly argue with a captain whose guns are run out and whose broadside could blow one’s ship out of the water, especially as all Englishmen were as mad and as domineering as el Supremo. The Spaniard had not enough intuition to enable him to guess that Hornblower still had a lurking fear that the whole business might be a ruse to inveigle the Lydia helpless under the guns of Panama.