“If that’s the case,” said Hornblower, “then all we can hope for is that she carries something away.”

“We can at least hope for it, My Lord,” said Spendlove. The glance he directed upwards was indicative of his fear that it would be the Clorinda whose gear would give way. Clorinda now had wind and sea very nearly abeam. She was lying over very steeply under every inch of canvas she could carry, and lifting unwillingly to the seas which came rolling in upon her, swirling in through her open gun-ports. Hornblower realised that he had not a dry stitch of clothing on him, and probably no one else on board had, either.

“My Lord,” said Gerard, “you’ve had no breakfast as yet.”

Hornblower tried to conceal the discomfiture he felt at this reminder. He had forgotten all about breakfast, despite the cheerful anticipation with which he had once been looking forward to it.

“Quite right, Mr. Gerard,” he said, jocular, but only clumsily so, thanks to being taken by surprise. “And what of it?”

“It’s my duty to remind you, My Lord,” said Gerard. “Her Ladyship—”

“Her Ladyship told you to see that I took my meals regularly,” replied Hornblower. “I am aware of that. But Her Ladyship, owing to her inexperience, made no allowance for encounters with fast-sailing slavers just at mealtimes.”

“But can’t I persuade you, My Lord?”

The thought of breakfast, now that it had been reimplanted in his mind, was more attractive than ever. But it was hard to go below with a pursuit being so hotly conducted.

“Take that bearing again before I decide,” he temporised.

Gerard walked to the binnacle again.

“Bearing’s opening steadily, My Lord,” he reported. “She must be drawing ahead fast.”

“Clearly so,” said Spendlove, telescope trained out towards the Estrella. “And it looks—it looks as if she’s hauling in on her sheets. Maybe—”

Hornblower had whipped his telescope to his eye on the instant.

“She’s gibing over!” he pronounced. “See how she comes round, by George!”

Estrella must have a bold captain and a well-trained crew. They had hauled in on her sheets and had stood ready at her topsail braces. Then, with the helm hard over, she had spun round on her heel. Her whole beautiful profile was now presented to Hornblower’s telescope. She was headed to cross Clorinda’s bows from starboard to port, and not too far ahead, either.

“Damned insolence!” said Hornblower, but full of admiration for the daring and skill displayed.

Fell was standing close by, staring at the impertinent schooner. He was rigid, even though the wind was flapping his coat-tails round him. For a few seconds it seemed as if the two vessels were heading towards a common point, where they must meet. But the impression soon passed. Even without taking a compass bearing it became apparent that Estrella must pass comfortably ahead of the frigate.

“Run the guns in!” bellowed Fell. “Stand by to wear ship! Clear away the bow chasers, there!”

It might be just possible that the schooner would pass within range of the bow chasers, but to take a shot at her, at long range and on that heaving sea, would be a chancy business. Should they score a hit, it might as likely take effect in the hull, among the wretched slaves, as on the spars or rigging. Hornblower was prepared to restrain Fell from firing.

The guns were run in, and after another minute’s examination of the situation Fell ordered the helm to be put a-starboard and the ship laid right before the wind. Hornblower through his telescope could see the schooner lying right over with the wind abeam, so far over that she, as she heaved, presented a streak of copper to his view, pinkish against the blue of the sea. Clearly she was drawing across the frigate’s bows, as Fell tacitly acknowledged when he ordered a further turn of two points to port. Thanks to her two knots superiority in speed and thanks also to her superior handiness and weatherliness the Estrella was literally making a circle round the Clorinda.

“She’s built for speed, My Lord,” said Spendlove from behind his telescope.

So was Clorinda, but with a difference. Clorinda was a fighting ship, built to carry seventy tons of artillery, with forty tons of powder and shot in her magazines. It was no shame to her that she should be outsailed and outmanoeuvred by such a vessel as the Estrella.

“I fancy she’ll make for San Juan, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower.

Fell’s face bore an expression of helpless fury as he turned to his Admiral; it was with an obvious effort that he restrained himself from pouring out his rage, presumably in a torrent of blasphemy.

“It’s—it’s—” he spluttered.

“It’s enough to madden a saint,” said Hornblower.

Clorinda had been ideally stationed, twenty miles to windward of San Juan; Estrella had run practically into her arms, so to speak, and had yet dodged neatly round her and had won for herself a clear run to the port.

“I’ll see him damned, My Lord!” said Fell. “Quartermaster!”

There was now the long run ahead to San Juan, one point off the wind, in what was practically a race with an even start. Fell laid a course for San Juan; it was obvious that Estrella, comfortably out of range on the starboard beam, was heading for the same point. Both ships had the wind practically abeam; this long run would be a final test of the sailing qualities of the two ships, as though they were a couple of yachts completing a triangular course in a race in the Solent. Hornblower reminded himself that earlier this morning he had compared the present voyage with a yachting excursion. But the expression in Fell’s face showed that his flag-captain by no means looked on it in the same light. Fell was in the deadliest earnest, and not from any philanthropic feelings about slavery, either. It was the head money he wanted.

“About that breakfast, My Lord?” said Gerard.

An officer was touching his hat to Fell with the request that it might be considered noon.

“Make it so,” said Fell. The welcome cry of “Up spirits” rang through the ship.

“Breakfast, My Lord?” asked Gerard again.

“Let’s wait and see how we do on this course,” said Hornblower. He saw something of dismay in Gerard’s face and laughed. “It’s a question of your breakfast, I fancy, as well as mine. You’ve had nothing this morning?”

“No, My Lord.”

“I starve my young men, I see,” said Hornblower, looking from Gerard to Spendlove; but the latter’s expression was peculiarly unchanging, and Hornblower remembered all he knew about him. “I’ll wager a guinea that Spendlove hasn’t spent the morning fasting.”

The suggestion was answered by a wide grin.

“I am no sailor, My Lord,” said Spendlove. “But I have learned one thing while I have been at sea, and that is to snatch at any meal that makes its appearance. Fairy gold vanishes no faster than the opportunity of eating food at sea.”

“So, while your Admiral has been starving, you have been walking this deck with a full belly? Shame on you.”

“I feel that shame as deeply as the situation merits, My Lord.”

Spendlove obviously had all the tact that an Admiral’s secretary needed to have.

“Hands to the mainbrace,” bellowed Fell.

Clorinda was hurtling along over the blue sea with the wind abeam; it was her best point of sailing, and Fell was doing all he could to get the very best out of her. Hornblower looked over at Estrella.

“I fancy we’re falling behind,” he said.

“I think so, too, My Lord,” said Gerard after a glance in the same direction. He walked over and took a bearing, and Fell glared at him with irritation before turning to Hornblower.

“I hope you will agree, My Lord,” he said, “that Clorinda has done all a ship can do?”

“Certainly, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower. Fell real meant to say that no fault could be found with his handling the ship; and Hornblower, while convinced that he himself could have handled her better, had no doubt that in any case Estrella would have evaded capture.