The Commodore

“Make the signal, ‘anchor’,” said Hornblower to the signal midshipman, and then he darted a meaning glance at Bush, who nodded. He had everything ready. The ship crept forward, closer and closer under the guns.

“Haul down,” said Hornblower, and the signal to anchor came down in a flash, putting the order into force at that moment. Six cables roared through six hawseholes. In the six ships a thousand men poured aloft, and the canvas vanished as though by magic as the ships swung round to their cables.

“Pretty fair,” said Hornblower to himself, realizing, with an inward smile at his own weakness, that no evolution could ever be carried out to his perfect satisfaction. Forward the saluting gun began to crash out its marks of respect for the Russian flag; Hornblower saw a puff of smoke from the fortress and then the sound of the first gun of the return salute reached his ears. Eleven guns; they recognized his broad pendant, then, and knew what compliments were due to a Commodore. Here came the doctor’s boat to give them pratique; the doctor was a man with a large black beard who spoke limping French. His visit was a good opportunity to test Braun’s ability to speak Russian—Braun translated with facility Hornblower’s declaration that there was no infectious disease on board. Everyone in the ship was a little excited at this visit to Russia, and crowded the side to look down at the Russian boat’s crew, seated in their boat with the bowman hooking on to the chains, but they appeared no different from any other boat’s crew—much the same kind of coloured shirts and ragged trousers and bare feet, and they handled their craft capably enough. It was Bush who drove the Nonsuch’s crew from the side; he was hotly indignant about their blatant curiosity and the noise they made.

“Chattering like a herd of monkeys,” said Bush indignantly to the first lieutenant. “Making more noise than a tree full of jackdaws. What’ll these Russians think of us? Set the men to work and keep ‘em at it.”

In these conditions of doubtful neutrality it would be best for the first contact with the shore to be made by Basse. At least ostensibly the squadron had come to Kronstadt merely to bring him with his news to the Swedish Crown Prince. Hornblower had his barge hoisted out and sent Basse away in it, and the boat returned without him but with no other information. Basse had landed at the jetty, and the barge, in accordance with Hornblower’s orders, had immediately returned. Apart from the salute and the doctor’s visit the Russian Empire chose to ignore the British squadron’s existence.

“What sort of people do they think we are?” grumbled Bush, fretting, as usual, at inaction. Bush knew as well as Hornblower that in all matters of diplomacy it was best to display no eagerness at all, but he could not force himself to appear calm as Hornblower could. He gave a meaning glance at Hornblower’s full uniform and ribbon and star, do

“The telegraph hasn’t ceased working since Basse reached shore,” commented Bush, glass to eye. The three gaunt black arms of the semaphore on the top of the fortress were whirling busily round transmitting messages to the next station higher up the bay. Otherwise there was almost nothing to be seen; across the low land of the island were visible a few masts to mark the site of the naval dockyard; two or three merchant ships swung at anchor in that direction, and a few fishing-boats plied their trade.

“There goes a boat!” said Montgomery suddenly.

A smart pi

“Russian Imperial colours,” said Bush. “Can anyone see who’s onboard?”

But the pi

“I think I can see gold lace,” said Carlin, doubtfully.

“Much good that is,” said Bush. “A blind man would guess there was gold lace in a Russian navy pi

The pi

“Call me if anything happens, if you please, Captain Bush,” said Hornblower.

He went off below to his cabin; Brown relieved him of his heavy full-dress coat with the epaulettes, and, once more alone, he began to fidget about the cabin. He opened the case of pistols which Barbara had given him, read the card inside it—the last word he had received from her—and shut the case again. He stepped out into the stern gallery and returned to the cabin. The realization that he was worried a

“Bombast and fustian,” he said to himself, flipping through the pages.

He heard six bells strike; it was still no later than eleven in the morning, and he could not possibly dine before two.

He got up from his chair and made himself lie on his cot, shut his eyes and grimly clenched his hands and tried to force himself to doze. He could not possibly go up on deck again and walk up and down, as he wanted to—that would be a public admission that he was restless and nervous. The minutes passed on leaden feet; he felt he had never felt so caged and unhappy before in his life.

Eight bells went, and he heard the watch relieved; it was like an eternity before he heard a bustle on the half-deck outside and someone knocked on the door. Hornblower settled himself in an attitude of complete relaxation on his cot.

“Come in!” he called, and he blinked and peered at the midshipman as if he had just awakened from a sound sleep.

“Boat heading towards us, sir,” said the midshipman.

“I’ll come up,” said Hornblower. “Pass the word for my cox’n.”

Brown helped him into his dress-coat, and he reached the deck while the boat was still some distance off.

“The same pi

The pi

“Where’s Mr. Braun?” said Hornblower.

The hail was repeated, and Braun translated.

“He is asking permission to hook on to us, sir. And he says he has a message for you.”

“Tell him to come alongside,” said Hornblower, This dependence upon an interpreter always irritated him.

The boat’s crew was smart, dressed in something like a uniform with blue shirts and white trousers, and in the stern-sheets, ready to mount the side, was an officer in military uniform, frogged across the breast in Hussar fashion. The Hussar came clumsily up the side, and glanced round, saluting the mass of gold lace which awaited him. Then he produced a letter, which he offered with a further explanation in Russian.

“From His Imperial Majesty the Tsar,” translated Braun with a catch in his voice.

Hornblower took the letter; it was addressed in French—

M. LE CHEF D’ESCADRE LE CAPITAINE SIR HORNBLOWER,

VAISSEAU BRITANNIQUE NOONSUCH.