The younger men were silent as they ate. Hornblower put his nose to his glass of wine and sipped thoughtfully.
“Six months in the tropics has done this Bordeaux no good,” he commented; it was inevitable that as host, and Admiral, and older man, his opinion should be received with deference. Spendlove broke the next silence.
“That length of spun yarn, My Lord,” he said. “The breaking strain—”
“Mr. Spendlove,” said Hornblower. “All the discussion in the world won’t change it now. We shall know in good time. Meanwhile, let’s not spoil our dinner with technical discussions.”
“Your pardon, My Lord,” said Spendlove, abashed. Was it by mere coincidence or through telepathy that Hornblower had been thinking at that very moment about the breaking strain of that length of spun yarn in the drogue; but he would not dream of admitting that he had been thinking about it. The dinner continued.
“Well,” said Hornblower, raising his glass, “we can admit the existence of mundane affairs long enough to allow of a toast. Here’s to head money.”
As they drank they heard unmistakable sounds on deck and overside. The guard-boat had returned from its mission. Spendlove and Gerard exchanged glances, and poised themselves ready to stand up. Hornblower forced himself to lean back and shake his head sadly, his glass still in his hand.
“Too bad about this Bordeaux, gentlemen,” he said.
Then came the knock on the door and the expected message.
“Cap’n’s respects, My Lord, and the boat has returned.”
“My compliments to the captain, and I’ll be glad to see him and the lieutenant here as soon as is convenient.”
One glance at Fell as he entered the cabin was sufficient to indicate that the expedition had been successful, so far, at least.
“All well, My Lord,” he said, his florid face suffused with excitement.
“Excellent.” The lieutenant was a grizzled veteran older than Hornblower; and Hornblower could not help but think to himself that had he not enjoyed great good fortune on several occasions he would be only a lieutenant, too. “Will you sit down, gentlemen? A glass of wine? Mr. Gerard, order fresh glasses, if you please. Sir Thomas, would you mind if I hear Mr. Field’s story from his own lips?”
Field had no fluency of speech. His story had to be drawn from him by questions. Everything had gone well. Two strong swimmers, their faces blackened, had slipped overside from the guard-boat and had swum unseen to the Estrella. Working with their knives, they had been able to prise off the copper from the second rudder-brace below the waterline. With an auger they had made a space large enough to pass a line through. The most ticklish part of the work had been approaching near enough in the guard-boat and putting the drogue overside after it had been attached to the line, but Field reported that no hail had come from the Estrella. The chain had followed the line and had been securely shackled. Now the drogue hung at Estrella’s stern, safely out of sight below the surface, ready to exert its full force on her rudder when—and if—the spun yarn which held the drogue reversed should part.
“Excellent,” said Hornblower again, when Field’s last halting sentence was uttered. “You’ve done very well, Mr. Field, thank you.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
When Field had left, Hornblower could address himself to Fell.
“Your plan has worked out admirably, Sir Thomas. Now it only remains to catch the Estrella. Iwould strongly recommend you to make all preparations for getting under way at daylight. The sooner we leave after the Estrella has sailed the better, don’t you think?”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
The ship’s bell overhead anticipated the next question Hornblower was about to ask.
“Three hours to daylight,” he said. “I’ll say goodnight to you gentlemen, then.”
It had been a busy day, of ceaseless activity, mental if not physical, since dawn. After a long, hot evening it seemed to Hornblower that his feet had swollen to twice their ordinary size and that his gold-buckled shoes had made no allowance for this expansion—he could hardly pry them off. He took off ribbon and star and gold-laced coat, and reluctantly reminded himself that he would have to put them on again for his ceremonial departure in three hours’ time. He sponged himself down with water from his washbasin, and sank down sighing with relief on his cot in the night cabin.
He woke automatically when the watch was called; the cabin was still quite dark and he was at a loss, for a couple of seconds, about why there should be this feeling of urgency within him. Then he remembered, and was wide awake at once, shouting to the sentry at the door to pass the word for Giles. He shaved by lamplight in feverish haste, and then, once more in the hated full-dress uniform, he sped up the ladder to the quarterdeck. It was still pitch dark; no, perhaps there was the slightest glimmering of daylight. Perhaps the sky was the smallest trifle brighter over the Morro. Perhaps. The quarterdeck was crowded with shadowy figures, more even than would be found there with the ship’s company at stations for getting under way. At sight of them he nearly turned back, having no wish to reveal that he shared the same weaknesses as the rest of them, but Fell had caught sight of him.
“Good morning, My Lord.”
“Morning, Sir Thomas.”
“Land breeze blowing full, My Lord.”
No doubt about that; Hornblower could feel it breathing round him, delightful after the sweltering stuffiness of the cabin. In these midsummer tropics it would be of short duration; it would be cut off short as soon as the sun, lifting over the horizon, should get to work in its brassy strength upon the land.
“Estrella’s making ready for sea, My Lord.”
There was no doubt about that either; the sounds of it made their way over the water through the twilight.
“I don’t have to ask if you are ready, Sir Thomas.”
“All ready, My Lord. Hands standing by at the capstan.”
“Very well.”
Undoubtedly it was lighter already; the figures on the quarterdeck—now much more clearly defined—had all moved over to the starboard side, lining the rail. Half a dozen telescopes were being extended and pointed towards the Estrella.
“Sir Thomas, put an end to that, if you please. Send that crowd below.”
“They’re anxious to see—”
“I know what they want to see. Send them below immediately.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
Everyone, of course, was desperately anxious to see if anything was visible at the Estrella’s waterline aft, which might reveal what had been done at night. But there could be no surer way of calling the attention of the Estrella’s captain to something suspicious under his stern than by pointing telescopes at it.
“Officer of the watch!”
“My Lord?”
“See to it that no one points a telescope for one moment towards the Estrella.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
“When there’s enough light to see clearly, you can sweep round the harbour as you might be expected to do. Not more than five seconds for the Estrella, but make sure you see all there is to see.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
The eastern sky was now displaying faint greens and yellows, against which the Morro silhouetted itself magnificently though faintly, but in its shadow all was still dark. Even before breakfast it was a romantic moment. It occurred to Hornblower that the presence of an Admiral in full dress on the quarterdeck so early might itself be a suspicious circumstance.
“I’m going below, Sir Thomas. Please keep me informed.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
In the day cabin Gerard and Spendlove sprang to their feet as he entered; presumably they had been among those driven below by Fell’s order.
“Mr. Spendlove, I am profiting by your admirable example of yesterday. I shall make sure of my breakfast while I may. Would you please order breakfast, Mr. Gerard? I presume you gentlemen will favour me with your company.”