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“I understand,” said Hornblower.
Now what was this? Here were the old symptoms, as recognisable as ever, the quickened heartbeat, the feeling of warmth under the skin, the general restlessness. There was something just below the horizon of his mind, some stirring of an idea. And within a second the idea was up over the horizon, vague at present, like a hazy landfall, but as certain and as reassuring as any landfall. And beyond, still over the horizon, were other ideas, only to be guessed at. He could not help glancing over at the Estrella, sizing up the tactical situation, seeking further inspiration there, testing what he already had in mind.
It was all he could do to thank Stuart politely for his information, without betraying the excitement he felt, and without terminating the interview with suspicious abruptness. A word to Fell made certain that Stuart would receive the business of supplying the Clorinda, and Hornblower waved away Stuart’s thanks. Hornblower turned away with as great an appearance of nonchalance as he could manage.
There was plenty of bustle over there by the Estrella, just as there was round the Clorinda, with preparations being made for filling the water casks. It was hard to think in the heat and the noise. It was hard to face the cluttered deck. And darkness was approaching, and then would come eight o’clock, when he would be making his call upon the Captain-General, and obviously everything must be thought out before that. And there were complications. Successive ideas were arising, one out of another, like Chinese boxes, and each one in turn had to be examined for flaws. The sun was down into the hills, leaving a flaming sky behind, when he came to his final resolution.
“Spendlove!” he snapped; excitement made him curt. “Come below with me.”
Down in the big stern cabin it was oppressively hot. The red sky was reflected in the water of the harbour, shining up through the stern windows; the magnificent effect was dissipated with the lighting of the lamps. Hornblower threw himself into his chair; Spendlove stood looking at him keenly, as Hornblower was well aware. Spendlove could be in no doubt that his temperamental Commander-in-Chief had much on his mind. Yet even Spendlove was surprised at the scheme that was sketched out to him, and at the orders he received. He even ventured to protest.
“My Lord—” he said.
“Carry out your orders, Mr. Spendlove. Not another word.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
Spendlove left the cabin, with Hornblower sitting there alone, waiting. The minutes passed slowly—precious minutes; there were few to spare—before the knock came on the door that he expected. It was Fell, entering with every appearance of nervousness.
“My Lord, have you a few minutes to spare?”
“Always a pleasure to receive you, Sir Thomas.”
“But this is unusual, I fear, My Lord. I have a suggestion to make—an unusual suggestion.”
“Suggestions are always welcome too, Sir Thomas. Please sit down and tell me. We have an hour at least before we go ashore. I am most interested.”
Fell sat bolt upright in his chair, his hands clutching the arms. He swallowed twice. It gave Hornblower no pleasure to see a man who had faced steel and lead and imminent death apprehensive before him; it made him uncomfortable.
“My Lord—” began Fell, and swallowed again.
“You have all my attention, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, gently.
“It has occurred to me,” said Fell, growing more fluent with each word until at last he spoke in a rush, “that we still might have a chance at the Estrella.”
“Really, Sir Thomas? Nothing could give me greater pleasure, if it were possible. I would like to hear what you suggest.”
“Well, My Lord. She’ll sail tomorrow. Most likely at dawn, with the land breeze. Tonight we might—we might fix some kind of drogue to her bottom. Perhaps to her rudder. She’s no more than a knot or two faster than we are. We could follow her out and catch her at sea—”
“This is brilliant, Sir Thomas. Really ingenious—but nothing more than could be expected of a seaman of your reputation, let me add.”
“You are too kind, My Lord.” There was a struggle only too perceptible in Fell’s expression, and he hesitated before he went on at last—“It was your secretary, Spendlove, who put the idea in my mind, My Lord.”
“Spendlove? I can hardly believe it.”
“He was too timid to make the suggestion to you, My Lord, and so he came to me with it.”
“I’m sure he did no more than set the wheels of your thought turning, Sir Thomas. In any case, since you have assumed the responsibility the credit must be yours, of course, if credit is to be awarded. Let us hope there will be a great deal.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
“Now about this drogue. What do you suggest, Sir Thomas?”
“It need be no more than a large sea anchor. A bolt of No 1 canvas, sewn into a fu
“It would have to be reinforced even so. Not even No 1 canvas could stand the strain with Estrella going at twelve knots.”
“Yes, My Lord, I was sure of that. Bolt-ropes sewn in in plenty. That would be easy enough, of course. We have a spare bob-stay chain on board. That could be sewn round the mouth of the drogue—”
“And could be attached to the Estrella to take the main strain.”
“Yes, My Lord. That was what I thought.”
“It would serve to keep the drogue under water out of sight as well.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Fell found Hornblower’s quickness in grasping the technical points vastly encouraging. His nervousness was now replaced by enthusiasm.
“And where would you propose to attach this drogue, Sir Thomas?”
“I was thinking—Spendlove suggested, My Lord—that it might be passed over one of the lower pintles of the rudder.”
“It would be likely to tear the rudder clean away when exerting its full force.”
“That would serve our purpose equally well, My Lord.”
“Of course, I understand.”
Fell walked across the cabin to where the great cabin window stood open wide.
“You can’t see her from here as we lie now, My Lord,” he said. “But you can hear her.”
“And smell her,” said Hornblower, standing beside him.
“Yes, My Lord. They’re hosing her out at present. But you can hear her, as I said.”
Over the water came very plainly to them, along with the miasma of her stench, the continued wailing of the wretched slaves; Hornblower fancied he could even hear the clanking of the leg irons.
“Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, “I think it would be very desirable if you would put a boat overside to row guard round the ship tonight.”
“Row guard, My Lord?” Fell was not very quick in the uptake. In the peace-time Navy it was u
“Oh, yes, most certainly. Half these men would be overside swimming for the shore as soon as night falls. Surely you understand that, Sir Thomas. We must restrain their passion to desert from this brutal service. And in any case a guard-boat will prevent the sale of liquor through the gun-ports.”
“Er—yes, I suppose so, My Lord.” But Fell clearly had not grasped the implications of the suggestion, and Hornblower had to elaborate.
“Let us set a boat-rowing guard now, before nightfall. I can explain to the authorities why it is necessary. Then when the time comes—”
“We’ll have a boat ready in the water!” Enlightenment had broken in on Fell at last.
“Attracting no attention,” supplemented Hornblower.
“Of course!”
The red sunset showed Fell’s face lit up with animation.
“It would be best if you gave that order soon, Sir Thomas. But meanwhile there’s little time to spare. We must have this drogue in the making before we go ashore.”
“Shall I give the orders, My Lord?”
“Spendlove has figures at his fingertips. He can work out the measurements. Would you be kind enough to send for him, Sir Thomas?”