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The cabin was soon crowded with people as the work was put in hand. Spendlove came first; after him Gerard was sent for, and then Sefton, the first-lieutenant. Next came the sail-maker, the armourer, the carpenter, and the boatswain. The sail-maker was an elderly Swede who had been forced into the British Navy twenty years ago in some conscienceless action of the press gang, and who had remained in the service ever since. His wrinkled face broke into a grin, like a shattered window, as the beauties of the scheme dawned upon him when he was told about it. He just managed to restrain himself from slapping his thigh with glee when he remembered he was in the august presence of his Admiral and his captain. Spendlove was busy sketching out with pencil and paper a drawing of the drogue, with Gerard looking over his shoulder.
“Perhaps even I might make a contribution to this scheme,” said Hornblower, and everyone turned to look at him; he met Spendlove’s eye with a glassy stare that forbade Spendlove to breathe a word to the effect that the whole scheme was his original idea.
“Yes, My Lord?” said Fell.
“A length of spun yarn,” said Hornblower, “made fast to the tail of the drogue and led for’rard and the other end secured to the chain. Just a single strand, to keep it tail end forward while Estrella gets under way. Then when she sets all sail and the strain comes—”
“The yarn will part!” said Spendlove. “You’re right, My Lord. Then the drogue will take the water—”
“And she’ll be ours, let’s hope,” concluded Hornblower.
“Excellent, My Lord,” said Fell.
Was there perhaps a mild condescension, a tiny hint of patronage, in what he said? Hornblower felt that there was, and was momentarily nettled at it. Already Fell was quite convinced that the whole scheme was his own—despite his handsome earlier admission that Spendlove had contributed—and he was generously allowing Hornblower to add a trifling suggestion. Hornblower allayed his irritation with cynical amusement at the weaknesses of human nature.
“In this stimulating atmosphere of ideas,” he said, modestly, “one can hardly help but be infected.”
“Y-yes, My Lord,” said Gerard, eyeing him curiously. Gerard was too sharp altogether, and knew him too well. He had caught the echo of mock-modesty in Hornblower’s tone, and was on the verge of guessing the truth.
“No need for you to put your oar in, Mr. Gerard,” snapped Hornblower. “Do I have to recall you to your duty? Where’s my di
“I beg pardon, My Lord,” spluttered Gerard, entirely taken aback. “I’d quite forgotten—you’ve been so busy, My Lord—”
His embarrassment was intense; he turned this way and that in the crowded cabin as if looking about him for the missing di
“No time now, Mr. Gerard,” said Hornblower. Until the need for distracting Gerard’s attention had arisen he had been equally forgetful of the need for di
“I really must beg your pardon, My Lord,” said Fell, equally embarrassed.
“Oh, no matter, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, waving the apologies aside testily. “You and I are in the same condition. Let me see that drawing, Mr. Spendlove.”
He was continually being led into playing the part of a peppery old gentleman, when he knew himself to be nothing of the sort. He was able to mellow again as they went once more through the details of the construction of the drogue, and he gave his approval.
“I believe, Sir Thomas,” he said, “that you have decided to entrust the work to Mr. Sefton during our absence ashore?” Fell bowed his agreement.
“Mr. Spendlove will remain under your orders, Mr. Sefton. Mr. Gerard will accompany Sir Thomas and me. I don’t know what you have decided, Sir Thomas, but I would suggest that you bring a lieutenant and a midshipman with you to His Excellency’s reception.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
“Mr. Sefton, I am sure I can trust you to have this work completed by the time of our return, early in the middle watch, I fancy?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
So there it was all settled, except for the dreary interval of waiting. This was just like war-time, standing by with a crisis looming in the near future.
“Di
“I’ll call for Giles if I want some,” he said, looking round the crowded cabin. He wanted to dismiss the horde of people, and sought words to do so politely.
“Then I’ll attend to my other duties, My Lord,” said Fell, suddenly and surprisingly tactful.
“Very well, Sir Thomas, thank you.”
The cabin emptied itself rapidly; Hornblower was able by a mere look to put an end to Gerard’s tendency to linger. Then he could sink back into his chair and relax, sturdily ignoring Giles when he came in with another lighted lamp for the darkening cabin. The ship was full of the sound of the business of watering, sheaves squealing in blocks, pumps clanking, hoarse orders; the noise was sufficiently distracting to prevent his thoughts maintaining any regular course. He was in half a doze when a knock on the door preceded the arrival of a midshipman.
“Cap’n’s respects, My Lord, and the shore boat is approaching.”
“My compliments to the captain, and I’ll be on deck at once.”
The shore boat was bright with a lantern hanging over the stern-sheets in the midst of the darkness of the harbour. It lit up Mendez-Castillo’s resplendent uniform. Down the side they went, midshipman, lieutenants, captain, Admiral, in the reversed order of naval precedence, and powerful strokes of the oars carried them over the black water towards the city, where a few lights gleamed. They passed close by the Estrella; there was a light hanging in her rigging, but apparently she had completed her watering, for there was no activity about her.
Nevertheless, there came a continuous faint wailing from up her open hatchways. Perhaps the slaves there were mourning the departure of those of them who had been taken from them; perhaps they were voicing their apprehension at what the future held in store for them. It occurred to Hornblower that these unfortunate people, snatched from their homes, packed into a ship whose like they had never seen before, guarded by white men (and white faces must be as extraordinary to them as emerald green ones would be to a European) could have no idea at all of what lay in store for them, any more than he himself would have if he were to be abducted to another planet.
“His Excellency,” said Mendez-Castillo beside him, “has had pleasure in deciding to receive Your Excellency with full ceremonial.”
“That is most kind of His Excellency,” replied Hornblower, recalling himself to his present duties with an effort, and expressing himself in Spanish with even more effort.
The tiller was put over and the boat turned abruptly round a corner, revealing a brightly-lit jetty, with a massive gateway beyond. The boat ran alongside and half a dozen uniformed figures stood to attention as the party climbed on shore.
“This way, Your Excellency,” murmured Mendez-Castillo.
They passed through the gateway into a courtyard lit by scores of lanterns, which shone on ranks of soldiers drawn up in two treble lines. As Hornblower emerged into the courtyard a shouted order brought the muskets to the present, and at the same moment a band burst into music. Hornblower’s tone-deaf ear heard the jerky braying, and he halted at attention with his hand to the brim of his cocked hat, his fellow officers beside him, until the deafening noise—echoed and multiplied by the surrounding walls—came to an end.
“A fine military appearance, Major,” said Hornblower, looking down the rigid lines of white cross-belts.