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“You can understand, Captain,” he said, “that I would be glad to leave on the same tide and with the same land breeze that takes you out. After our experiences today I fear you need be under no apprehension.”
“None at all,” said Gomez. There was something of condescension in his smile. That agreement was all that Hornblower wanted. He was at pains to conceal his relief.
“It will be my duty to pursue you if you are still in sight when I leave,” he said, apologetically; by his glance he made it clear that the remark was addressed to the Captain-General as well as to Gomez, but it was Gomez who answered.
“I have no fear,” he said.
“In that case, Your Excellency,” said Hornblower, clinching the matter, “I can inform Your Excellency officially that His Majesty’s Ship in which my flag is being flown will leave harbour tomorrow morning as early as suits Captain Gomez’s convenience.”
“That is understood,” agreed Ayora. “I regret greatly that Your Excellency’s visit should be so brief.”
“In the life of a sailor,” said Hornblower, “duty seems invariably to interfere with inclination. But at least during this brief visit I have had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Your Excellency, and of Captain Gomez.
“There are numerous other gentlemen here also desirous of making Your Excellency’s acquaintance,” said Ayora. “May I be permitted to present them to Your Excellency?”
The real business of the evening had been transacted, and now it was only necessary to go through the other formalities. The rest of the reception was as dreary as Hornblower had expected and feared; the Puerto Rican magnates who were led up in turn to meet him were as dull. At midnight Hornblower caught the eye of Gerard and gathered his flock together. Ayora noted the gesture and gave, in courteous terms, the leave to depart which, as His Catholic Majesty’s representative, he had to give unless his guests were to be guilty of discourtesy.
“Your Excellency has doubtless need to rest in readiness for your early start tomorrow,” he said. “I will not attempt to detain Your Excellency in consequence, much as Your Excellency’s presence here has been appreciated.”
The goodbyes were said, and Mendez-Castillo undertook to escort the party back to the Clorinda. It was something of a shock to Hornblower to find that the band and the guard of honour were still in the courtyard to offer the official compliments on his departure. He stood at the salute while the band played some jerky tune or other; then they went down into the waiting boat.
The harbour was pitch dark as they rowed out into it, the few lights visible doing almost nothing to alleviate the blackness. They rounded the corner and passed astern of the Estrella again. There was a single lantern hanging in her main rigging, and she was quiet by now—no; in the still night, at one moment, Hornblower heard the faint rattle of leg-irons as some one of the slaves in her hold indicated that he was still awake and restless. That was good. Farther along, a quiet challenge came over the inky water, issuing from a nucleus of darkness even more solid than the darkness surrounding it.
“Flag,” answered the midshipman. “Clorinda.”
The two brief words were all that were needed to inform the guardboat that an Admiral and a captain were approaching.
“You see, Major,” said Hornblower, “that Captain Fell deemed it necessary to row guard round the ship during the night.”
“I understood that to be the case, Your Excellency,” answered Mendez-Castillo.
“Our seamen will go to great lengths to indulge themselves in the pleasures of the shore.”
“Naturally, Your Excellency,” said Mendez-Castillo.
The boat ran alongside the Clorinda; standing awkwardly in the stern-sheets Hornblower said his last goodbyes, and uttered his last words of thanks, to the representative of his host before going up the side. From the entry port he watched the boat shove off again and disappear into the darkness.
“Now,” he said, “we can make better use of our time.”
On the maindeck, just visible in the light from the lantern hanging from the mainstay, was a Thing; that was the only way to describe it, something of canvas and cordage, with a length of chain attached to it. Sefton was standing beside it.
“I see you’ve finished it, Mr. Sefton.”
“Yes, My Lord. A full hour ago. The sail-maker and his mates worked admirably.”
Hornblower turned to Fell.
“I fancy, Sir Thomas,” he said, “that you have in mind the necessary orders to give. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me about them before you issue them?”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
That eternal Navy answer was the only one Fell could make in the circumstances, even if Fell had not yet given full thought to the next problems. Down in the cabin alone with his Admiral, Fell’s unreadiness was a little apparent.
“I suppose,” prompted Hornblower, “that you will tell off the necessary perso
Little by little the details were settled. Powerful swimmers who could work under water; an armourer’s mate who could be relied upon to put the final shackle in the chain in the darkness; the boat’s crew was decided upon, summoned, and instructed in all the details of the plan. When the guard-boat came in for the relief of its crew there was another crew standing by all ready, who went down overside rapidly and quietly although encumbered with the Thing and the necessary gear.
It pushed off again into the darkness, and Hornblower stood on the quarterdeck to watch it go. There might be an international incident arising out of this, or he might be made to appear a fool in the eyes of the world, which would be just as bad. He strained his ears for any sounds in the darkness which would tell him how the work was progressing, but he could hear nothing. The land breeze had just begun to blow, gently, but strongly enough to swing Clorinda to her anchor; it would carry any sounds away from him, he realised—but it would also serve to obscure any suspicious noises if anyone in the Estrella was awake enough to hear them. She had a full counter, with, as was only to be expected, plenty of rake. A swimmer who reached her stern unobserved would be able to work at her rudder unobserved, certainly.
“My Lord,” said Gerard’s voice quietly beside him. “Would not this be a suitable time to rest?”
“You are quite right, Mr. Gerard. A most suitable time,” answered Hornblower, continuing to lean against the rail.
“Well, then, My Lord—?”
“I have agreed with you, Mr. Gerard. Surely you can be content with that?”
But Gerard’s voice went on, remorseless as the voice of conscience.
“There is cold beef laid out in the cabin, My Lord. Fresh bread and a bottle of Bordeaux.”
That was a different story. Hornblower suddenly realised how hungry he was; during the past thirty hours he had eaten one meagre meal, because the cold collation he had expected at the reception had failed to materialise. And he could still pretend to be superior to the weaknesses of the flesh.
“You would have made an excellent wet-nurse, Mr. Gerard,” he said, “if nature had treated you more generously. But I suppose my life will be unbearable until I yield to your importunity.”
On the way to the companion they passed Fell; he was striding up and down the quarterdeck in the darkness, and they could hear his hard breathing. It pleased Hornblower to know that even these muscular heroes could feel anxiety. It might be polite, even kind, to invite Fell to join them at this cold supper, but Hornblower dismissed the idea. He had had as much of Fell’s company already as he could bear.
Down below, Spendlove was waiting in the lighted cabin.
“The vultures are gathered together,” said Hornblower. It was amusing to see Spendlove was pale and tense too. “I hope you gentlemen will join me.”