Hornblower in the West Indies h-12

by Cecil Scott Forester

  “I shall suggest to my government,” he went on, “that they request permission to take off the lines of the Star of the South, and study the plan of her sails, in order to build a similar vessel. She would be ideal for the work of the Navy in these waters. But, of course, it would be hard to find a suitable captain.”

  Gomez bowed once more. It was hard not to be self-satisfied when complimented by a seaman with the legendary reputation of Hornblower.

  “His Excellency,” put in Ayora, “is desirous of leaving the harbour tomorrow morning.”

  “So we understood,” said Gomez.

  Even Ayora looked a trifle disconcerted at the admission. Hornblower could see it plainly. Stuart, so helpful with his information, had not hesitated to help both sides, as Hornblower had expected he would. He had gone straight to the Spanish authorities with the intelligence Hornblower had supplied him with. But Hornblower had no desire to allow a jarring note to creep into the present conversation.

  “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 personnel for the expedition. Which officer can you trust fully to exercise discretion?”

  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.<
br />
  “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.”

  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 fa
int 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.”

  He threw himself negligently into a chair and watched the preparations. Half way through them a knock at the door brought in Fell himself.

  “Estrella’s clearly in sight now, My Lord. And there’s nothing visible under her stern.”

  “Thank you, Sir Thomas.”

  A cup of coffee was welcome at this time in the morning. Hornblower did not have to pretend eagerness to drink it. Daylight was creeping in through the cabin windows, making the lamplight garish and unnecessary. Another knock brought in a midshipman.

  “Cap’n’s respects, My Lord, and Estrella’s casting off.”

  “Very well.”

  Soon she would be under way, and their device would be put to the test. Hornblower made himself bite and masticate another mouthful of toast.

  “Can’t you young men sit still for even a moment?” he snapped. “Pour me some more coffee, Gerard.”

  “Estrella’s warping out into the channel, My Lord,” reported the midshipman again.

  “Very well,” said Hornblower, sipping fastidiously at his coffee, and hoping that no one could guess how much his pulse rate had accelerated. The minutes dragged by.

  “Estrella’s preparing to make sail, My Lord.”

  “Very well.” Hornblower put down his coffee cup, slowly, and as slowly as he could manage it rose from his chair, the eyes of the two young men never leaving him.