“This child has been in a rare way since this morning,” said Hough, indulgently. “These young people—She was the only person in the island, I fancy, who gave a thought to the secretary as well as to the Commander-in-Chief.”

“Er—yes. These young people,” said Hornblower.

The butler entered with a tray at that moment.

“Pour His Lordship a glass of wine, Lucy, my dear,” said Hough, and then to Hornblower, “Mrs Hough has been considerably prostrated, but she will be down in a moment.”

“Please do not discommode her, I beg of you,” said Hornblower. His hand was shaking as he reached for the glass. Hough took up carving knife and fork and set about carving the cold chicken.

“Excuse me, please,” said Lucy.

She turned and ran from the room as quickly as she had entered it, sobbing wildly.

“I had no idea the attachment was so strong,” said Hough.

“Nor had I,” said Hornblower. He had gulped down the whole glass of wine in his agitation. He addressed himself to the cold chicken with all the calm he could muster.

“The carriage is at the door, sir,” announced the butler.

“I’ll take these with me,” said Hornblower, a slice of bread in one hand and a chicken wing in the other. “Would it be troubling you too much to ask you to send a messenger ahead of me to warn His Excellency of my coming?”

“That has already been done, My Lord,” answered Hough. “And I have sent out messengers to inform the patrols that you are safe.”

Hornblower sank into the cushioned ease of the carriage. The incident with Lucy had at least had the effect of temporarily driving all thought of fatigue from his mind. Now he could lean back and relax; it was five minutes before he remembered the bread and chicken in his hands and set himself wearily to eat them. The long drive was not particularly restful, for there were continual interruptions. Patrols who had not heard that he was safe stopped the carriage. Ten miles down the road they encountered the Highland battalion encamped at the roadside and the colonel insisted on coming and paying his respects to the Naval Commander-in-Chief and congratulating him. Farther on a galloping horse reined up beside the carriage; it was Gerard. The light of the carriage lamp revealed that he had ridden his horse into a lather. Hornblower had to listen to him say “Thank God, you are safe, My Lord”—everyone used those same words—and explain to him what had happened. Gerard abandoned his horse at the first opportunity and got into the carriage beside Hornblower. He was full of self-reproach at having allowed this to happen to his Chief—Hornblower rather resented the implication that he was incapable of looking after himself even though the event seemed to prove it—and at not having rescued him.

“We tried to use the bloodhounds they track runaway slaves with, My Lord, but they were of no use.”

“Naturally, since I was on muleback,” said Hornblower. “In any case, the scent must have been several hours old. Now forget the past and let me think about the future.”

“We’ll have those pirates dangling on ropes before two days are up, My Lord.”

“Indeed? And what about Spendlove?”

“Oh—er. Yes, of course, My Lord.”

Spendlove was very much of an afterthought with everyone, even with Gerard who was his friend. But to Gerard must be given the credit at least for appreciating Hornblower’s difficulty the moment it was pointed out to him.

“We can’t let anything happen to him, of course, My Lord.”

“And how do we prevent it? Do we grant those pardons—do we persuade His Excellency to grant them?”

“Well, My Lord—”

“There’s nothing I would not do to set Spendlove free,” said Hornblower. “Do you understand that? Nothing!”

Hornblower caught himself setting his jaw in grim determination; his ineradicable tendency to self-analysis revealed him to himself. He was cynically surprised at his own flow of emotion. Ferocity and tenderness intermingled; let those pirates touch one hair of Spendlove’s head and—but how was he to prevent it? How to free Spendlove from men who knew that their lives, their actual lives and not merely their fortunes, depended on keeping him prisoner? How could he ever live with himself if anything were to happen to Spendlove? If the worst came to the worst he would have to go back to the pirates and yield himself up to them, as that Roman—Regulus—returned to death at the hands of the Carthaginians; and the worst seemed likely to come to the worst.

“Government House, My Lord,” said Gerard, breaking in upon this train of nightmare thoughts.

Sentries at the gates, sentries at the door. A brightly-lit entrance-hall, where aides-de-camp looked at him curiously, curse them. So did Gerard. He was ushered through into an inner room, where after only a moment another door opened to admit His Excellency, and the escorting aide-de-camp discreetly retired. His Excellency was an angry man, angry as a man can only be who had been badly scared.

“Now, what is all this, My Lord?”

There was none of the usual deference displayed towards the man who had attained a peerage, the man of legendary fame. Hooper was a full General, far above a mere Rear-Admiral; moreover, as Governor he was absolute ruler throughout this island. His red face and bulging blue eyes—as well as the rage he was displaying—seemed to confirm the rumour that he was a grandson of the royal blood. Hornblower explained briefly and quietly what had happened; his fatigue—if not his common sense—prevented an angry reply.

“Do you realise the cost of all this, My Lord?” blared Hooper. “Every white man who can sit a horse is out. My last reserve—the Highlanders—are bivouacked at the roadside. What that will mean in malaria and yellow fever I do not dare guess. For two weeks every man of the garrison except for them has been out guarding fishing boats and watching beaches at your request. The sick-lists are enormous. And now this!”

“My instructions, and I believe Your Excellency’s as well, laid the greatest stress on the suppression of piracy, sir.”

“I don’t need any whipper-snapper jumped up Rear-Admiral to interpret my instructions,” roared Hooper. “What sort of bargain did you make with these pirates of yours?”

There it was. It was not an easy thing to explain to a man in this mood.

“I made no actual bargain, Your Excellency.”

“Hard to believe you had that much sense.”

“But my honour is pledged.”

“Your honour pledged? To whom? The pirates?”

“No, Your Excellency. To my secretary, Spendlove.”

“What was the pledge?”

“He was retained as a hostage when I was set free.”

“What did you promise him?”

What? He had said something about thinking about him.

“I made no verbal promise, Your Excellency. But one was implied, undoubtedly.”

“What was implied?”

“That I should set him free.”

“And how did you think you could do that?”

Nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns.

“I was released in order that I might solicit from Your Excellency pardons under seal for the pirates.”

“Pardons! Par—” Hooper could not even finish the word a second time. He could only gobble like a turkey for several seconds before with a gulp he was able to continue. “Are you insane, My Lord?”

“That was why I was released. And that is why Spendlove is still retained.”

“Then this Spendlove must take his chance.”

“Your Excellency!”

“Do you think I could grant pardons to a gang of pirates? What d’ye mean? So that they can live like lords on their booty? Rolling in coaches round the island? A fine way that would be of suppressing piracy! D’ye want the whole West Indies in a turmoil? Have you lost your senses?”

The effect of this speech was in no way modified by the fact that Hornblower had guessed long before, that Hooper would argue exactly along this line.