“They’re landing their cargo,” said Gerard.

“Some of it at least,” replied Hornblower. In nearly a year of study he had learned much about the slave trade. The demand for slaves here in Puerto Rico was small compared with that at Havana. During the Middle Passage the slaves he saw had been confined on the slave decks, packed tight ‘spoon fashion’, lying on their sides with their knees bent up into the bend of the knees of the next man. It was only to be expected that the captain of the Estrella would take this opportunity of giving his perishable cargo a thorough airing.

A hail from overside distracted them. A boat with the Spanish flag at the bow was approaching; sitting in the stern-sheets was an officer in a brilliant gold-laced uniform that reflected back the setting sun.

“Here comes Authority,” said Hornblower.

The side was manned and the officer came aboard to the trilling of the pipes of the bosun’s mates, very correctly raising his hand in salute. Hornblower walked over to join Fell in receiving him. He spoke in Spanish, and Hornblower was aware that Fell had none of that language.

“Major Mendez-Castillo,” the officer announced himself. “First and Principal Aide-de-Camp to His Excellency the Captain-General of Puerto Rico.”

He was tall and slender, with a thin moustache that might have been put on with grease paint; he looked cautiously, without committing himself, at the two officers in their red ribbons and stars, and glittering epaulettes, who were receiving him.

“Welcome, Major,” said Hornblower. “I am Rear Admiral Lord Hornblower, Commander-in-Chief of His Britannic Majesty’s ships and vessels in West Indian waters. May I present Captain Sir Thomas Fell, commanding His Britannic Majesty’s ship Clorinda.”

Mendez-Castillo bowed to each of them, his relief at knowing which was which faintly apparent.

“Welcome to Puerto Rico, Your Excellency,” he said. “We had, of course, heard that the famous Lord Hornblower was now Commander-in-Chief here, and we had long hoped for the honour of a visit from him.”

“Many thanks,” said Hornblower.

“And welcome to you and to your ship, Captain,” added Mendez-Castillo hastily, nervous in case it should be too apparent that he had been so engrossed in his meeting with the fabulous Hornblower that he had paid insufficient attention to a mere captain. Fell bowed awkwardly in reply—interpretation was unnecessary.

“I am instructed by His Excellency,” went on Mendez-Castillo, “to enquire if there is any way in which His Excellency can be of service to Your Excellency on the notable occasion of this visit?”

In Spanish, the phrasing of the pompous sentence was even more difficult than in English. And as Mendez-Castillo spoke his glance wavered momentarily towards the Estrella; obviously all the details of the Clorinda’s attempted interception were already known—much of the unavailing pursuit must have been visible from the Morro. Something in the Major’s attitude conveyed the impression that the subject of the Estrella was not open to discussion.

“We intend to make only a brief stay, Major. Captain Fell is anxious to renew the water supply of his ship,” said Hornblower, and Mendez-Castillo’s expression softened at once.

“Of course,” he said, hastily. “Nothing could be easier. I will give instructions to the Captain of the Port to afford Captain Fell every facility.”

“You are too kind, Major,” said Hornblower. Bows were exchanged again, Fell joining in although unaware of what had been said.

“His Excellency has also instructed me,” said Mendez-Castillo, “that he hopes for the honour of a visit from Your Excellency.”

“I had hoped that His Excellency would be kind enough to invite me.”

“His Excellency will be charmed to hear it. Perhaps Your Excellency would be kind enough to visit His Excellency this evening. His Excellency would be charmed to receive Your Excellency at eight o’clock, along with the members of Your Excellency’s staff, at La Fortaleza, the Palace of Santa Catalina.”

“His Excellency is too good. We shall be delighted, naturally.”

“I shall inform His Excellency. Perhaps Your Excellency would find it convenient if I were to come on board at that time to escort Your Excellency and Your Excellency’s party?”

“We shall be most grateful, Major.”

The Major took his leave after a final reference to the Captain of the Port and the watering of the ship. Hornblower explained briefly to Fell.

“Aye aye, My Lord.”

Here came another visitor, up the port side of the ship, a squat, heavily-built man in dazzling white linen, wearing a broad-brimmed hat which he took off with scrupulous politeness as he reached the quarterdeck. Hornblower watched him address himself to the midshipman of the watch, and saw the latter hesitate and look round him while trying to make up his mind as to whether he should grant the request.

“Very well, midshipman,” said Hornblower. “What does the gentleman want?”

He could guess very easily what the gentleman wanted. This might be an opportunity of making contact with the shore other than through official channels—something always desirable, and peculiarly so at this moment. The visitor came forward; a pair of bright, quizzical blue eyes studied Hornblower closely as he did so.

“My Lord?” he said. He at least could recognise an Admiral’s uniform when he saw it.

“Yes. I am Admiral Lord Hornblower.”

“I fear to trouble you with my business, My Lord.” He spoke English like an Englishman, like a Tynesider, perhaps, but obviously as if he had not spoken it for years.

“What is it?”

“I came on board to address myself to your steward, My Lord, and to the president of the wardroom mess, and to the purser. The principal ship chandler of the port. Beef cattle, My Lord, chickens, eggs, fresh bread, fruits, vegetables.”

“What is your name?”

“Eduardo Stuart—Edward Stuart, My Lord. Second mate of the brig Columbine, out of London. Captured back in 1806, My Lord, and brought in here as a prisoner. I made friends here, and when the Dons changed sides in 1808 I set up as ship chandler, and here I’ve been ever since.”

Hornblower studied the speaker as keenly as the speaker was studying him. He could guess at much of what was left unsaid. He could guess at a fortunate marriage, and probably at a change of religion—unless Stuart had been born a Catholic, as was possible enough.

“And I am at your service, My Lord,” went on Stuart, meeting his gaze without flinching.

“In a moment I’ll let you speak to the purser,” said Hornblower. “But tell me first, what impression has our arrival made here?”

Stuart’s face crinkled into a grin.

“The whole town was out watching your chase of the Estrella del Sur, My Lord.”

“I guessed as much.”

“They all rejoiced when they saw her escape you. And then when they saw you coming in they manned the batteries.”

“Indeed?”

The Royal Navy’s reputation for prompt action, both daring and high-handed, must still be very much alive, if there could be even a momentary fear that a single frigate would attempt to snatch a prize from out of the shelter of a port as well guarded as San Juan.

“In ten minutes your name was being spoken in all the streets, My Lord.”

Hornblower’s keen glance reassured him that he was not being paid an idle compliment.

“And what is the Estrella going to do now?”

“She has only come in to land a few sickly slaves and renew with water, My Lord. It’s a poor market for slaves here. She sails for Havana at once, as soon as she can be sure of your movements, My Lord.”

“At once?”

“She’ll sail with the land breeze at dawn tomorrow, My Lord, unless you are lying outside the port.”

“I don’t expect I shall be,” said Hornblower.

“Then she’ll sail without a doubt, My Lord. She’ll want to get her cargo landed and sold in Havana before Spain signs the Convention.”