1Ghostlike in the moonlight, with the first puffs of the land breeze, the Lydia glided across the bay. Hornblower had not ventured to hoist sail, lest a gleam of canvas might be visible to the distant ship at sea. The launch and the cutter towed the ship, sounding as they went, into the deep water at the foot of the island at the entrance of the bay—Manguera Island, Hernandez called it when Hornblower had cautiously sketched out his plan to him. For an hour the men laboured at the oars, although Hornblower did his best to aid them, standing by the wheel and making as much use as possible of the leeway acquired by the ship through the force of the puffs of wind on the Lydia’s rigging. They reached the new anchorage at last, and the anchor splashed into the water.

2“Have that cable buoyed and ready to slip, Mr. Bush,” said Hornblower.

3“Aye aye, sir.”

4“Call the boats alongside. I want the men to rest.”

5“Aye aye, sir.”

6“Mr. Gerard, you have charge of the deck. See that the lookouts keep awake. I want Mr. Bush and Mr. Galbraith to come below with me.”

7“Aye aye, sir.”

8The ship was seething quietly with excitement. Everyone on board had guessed the captain’s plan, even though the details of its execution, which he was now explaining to his lieutenants, were still unknown. In the two hours which had elapsed since the arrival of the news of the Natividad’s approach Hornblower’s mind had worked busily at the perfection of his plan. Nothing must go wrong. Everything that could possibly contribute to success must be done.

9“That is all understood?” he asked, finally; he stood, stooping under the deck beams in his screened off cabin while his lieutenants fiddled awkwardly with their hats.

10“Aye aye, sir.”

11“Very good,” said Hornblower, dismissing them.

12But within five minutes impatience and anxiety drove him up on deck again.

13“Masthead, there? What can you see of the enemy?”

14“She’s just come up over the island, sir. She’s more than hull down. I can only see her tops’ls, sir, below her t’garns.”

15“What’s her course?”

16“She’s holding her wind, sir. She ought to make the bay on this tack.”

17“Ha—h’m,” said Hornblower, and went below again.

18It would be four hours at least before the Natividad reached the entrance, and before he could take any further action. He found himself pacing, stoop-shouldered, up and down the tiny limits of his cabin, and checked himself furiously. The iron-nerved captain of his dreams would not allow himself to work himself into this sort of fever, even though his professional reputation was to be at stake in four hours’ time. He must show the ship that he, too, could face uncertainty with indifference.

19“Pass the word for Polwheal,” he snapped, coming out through the screen and addressing a group by a maindeck gun; and when Polwheal appeared he went on, “My compliments to Mr. Bush, and tell him that if he can spare Mr. Galbraith and Mr. Clay and Mr. Savage from their duties I would be glad if they would sup with me and have a hand of whist.”

20Galbraith was nervous, too. Not merely was he anticipating a battle, but hanging over his head there was still the promised reprimand for his part in the skirmish of the afternoon. His rawboned Scotch figure moved restlessly, and his face was flushed over his high cheek bones. Even the two midshipmen were subdued as well as fidgety.

21Hornblower compelled himself to play the part of the courtly host, while every word he uttered was designed to increase his reputation for imperturbability. He apologised for his shortcomings of the supper—the ship being cleared for action involved the extinction of all fires and the consequent necessity for serving cold food. But the sight of the cold roast chickens, the cold roast pork, the golden cakes of maize, the dishes of fruit, roused Mr. Midshipman Savage’s sixteen year old appetite and caused him to forget his embarrassment.

22“This is better than rats, sir,” he said, rubbing his hands.

23“Rats?” asked Hornblower, vaguely. For all his appearance of attention his thoughts were up on deck, and not in the cabin.

24“Yes, sir. Until we made this harbour rats had become a favourite dish in the midshipmen’s berth.”

25“That they had,” echoed Clay. He carved himself substantial slices of cold pork, with plenty of crackling, and added them to the half chicken on his plate. “I was paying that thief Bailey threepence apiece for prime rats.”

26Desperately Hornblower jerked his mind away from the approaching Natividad and delved back into the past when he had been a half starved midshipman, homesick and seasick. His seniors then had eaten rats with gusto, and maintained that a biscuit-fed rat was far more delicate a dish than beef two years in cask. He had never been able to stomach them himself, but he would not admit it to these boys.

27“Threepence apiece for rats seems a trifle dear,” he said. “I can’t remember paying as much as that when I was a midshipman.”

28“Why, sir, did you ever eat them yourself?” asked Savage, amazed.

29In reply to this direct question Hornblower could only lie.

30“Of course,” he said. “Midshipmen’s berths were much the same twenty years ago as now. I always maintained that a rat who had had the run of the bread-locker all his life made a dish fit for a king, let alone a midshipman.”

31“God bless my soul!” gasped Clay, laying down his knife and fork. He had never thought for a moment that this stern and inflexible captain of his had once been a rat-eating midshipman.

32The two boys blinked at their captain with admiration. This little human touch had won their hearts completely, as Hornblower had known it would. At the end of the table Galbraith sighed audibly. He had been eating rats himself only three days ago, but he knew full well that to admit it would not increase the boys’ respect for him, but would rather diminish it, for he was that sort of officer. Hornblower had to make Galbraith feel at home, too.

33“A glass of wine with you, Mr. Galbraith,” he said, raising his glass. “I must apologise because this is not my best Madeira, but I am keeping the last two bottles for when I entertain the Spanish captain as our prisoner tomorrow. To our victories of the future!”

34The glasses were drained, and constraint dwindled. Hornblower had spoken of “our prisoner” when most captains would have said “my prisoner.” And he had said “our victories.” The strict cold captain, the stern disciplinarian, had for a moment revealed human characteristics and had admitted his inferiors to his fellowship. Any one of the three junior officers would at that moment have laid down his life for his captain—and Hornblower, looking round at their flushed faces, was aware of it. It gratified him at the same moment as it irritated him; but with a battle in the immediate future which might well be an affair of the utmost desperation he knew that he must have behind him a crew not merely loyal but enthusiastic.

35Another midshipman, young Knyvett, came into the cabin.

36“Mr. Bush’s compliments, sir, and the enemy is hull up from the masthead now, sir.”

37“Is she holding her course for the bay?”

38“Yes, sir. Mr. Bush says two hours ought to see her within range.”

39“Thank you, Mr. Knyvett,” said Hornblower, dismissing him. The reminder that in two hours he would be at grips with a fifty-gun ship set his heart beating faster again. It took a convulsive effort to maintain an unmoved countenance.

40“We still have ample time for our rubber, gentlemen,” said Hornblower.

41The weekly evening of whist which Captain Hornblower played with his officers was for these latter—especially the midshipmen—a sore trial. Hornblower himself was a keen good player; his close observation and his acute study of the psychology of his juniors were of great help to him. But to some of his officers, without card sense, and floundering helplessly with no memory for the cards that had been played, Hornblower’s card evenings were periods of torment.

42Polwheal cleared the table, spread the green tablecloth and brought the cards. When play began Hornblower found it easier to forget about the approaching battle. Whist was enough of a passion with him to claim most of his attention whatever the distraction. It was only during the intervals of play, during the deals and while marking the score, that he found his heart beating faster again and felt the blood surging up in his throat. He marked the fall of the cards with close attention, making allowance for Savage’s schoolboy tendency to dash out his aces, and for the fact that Galbraith invariably forgot, until it was too late, to signal a short suit. One rubber ended quickly; there was almost dismay on the faces of the other three as Hornblower proffered the cards for cutting for a second one. He kept his face expressionless.

43“You really must remember, Clay,” he said, “to lead the king from a sequence of king, queen, knave. The whole art of leading is based upon that principle.”

44“Aye aye, sir,” said Clay, rolling his eyes drolly at Savage, but Hornblower looked up sharply and Clay hurriedly composed his expression. Play continued—and to all of them seemed interminable. It came to an end at last, however.

45“Rubber,” announced Hornblower, marking up the score. “I think, gentlemen, that it is almost time that we went on deck.”

46There was a general sigh of relief and a scraping of feet on the deck. But at all costs Hornblower felt that he must consolidate his reputation for imperturbability.

47“The rubber would not be over,” he said, dryly, “if Mr. Savage had paid attention to the score. It being nine, Mr. Savage and Mr. Galbraith had only to win the odd trick to secure the rubber. Hence Mr. Savage, at the eighth trick, should have played his ace of hearts instead of risking the finesse. I grant that if the finesse had been successful he would have won two more tricks, but——”

48Hornblower droned on, while the other three writhed in their chairs. Yet they glanced at each other with admiration for him in their eyes as he preceded them up the companion ladder.

49Up on deck everything was deathly still as the crew lay at their posts. The moon was setting fast, but there was ample light still as soon as the eye grew accustomed to it. Bush touched his hat to the captain.

50“The enemy is still heading for the bay, sir,” he said hoarsely.

51“Send the crews into the launch and cutter again,” replied Hornblower. He climbed the mizzen rigging to the mizzen top gallant yard. From here he could just see over the island; a mile away, with the setting moon behind her, he could see the white canvas of the Natividad as she stood in, close-hauled, across the entrance. He struggled with his agitation as he endeavoured to predict her movements. There was small chance of her noticing, against the dark sky, the topgallant masts of the Lydia; and it was on the assumption that she would not that all his plans were based. She must go about soon, and her new course would bring her directly to the island. Perhaps she would weather it, but not likely. She would have to go about again to enter the bay, and that would be his opportunity. As he watched, he saw her canvas gleam brighter for a space and then darken again as she came round. She was heading for the middle of the entrance, but her leeway and the beginning of the ebb tide would carry back to the island. He went down again to the deck.

52“Mr. Bush,” he said, “send the hands aloft ready to set sail.”

53The ship was filled with gentle noises as bare feet padded over the deck and up the rigging. Hornblower brought the silver whistle out of his pocket. He did not trouble to ask whether everyone was ready for the signal and properly instructed in the part he had to play; Bush and Gerard were efficient officers.

54“I am going for’ard, now, Mr. Bush,” he said. “I shall try and get back to the quarterdeck in time, but you know my orders if I do not.”

55“Aye aye, sir.”

56Hornblower hurried forward along the gangway, past the forecastle carronades with their crews crouching round them, and swung himself over onto the bowsprit. From the sprit sail yard he could see round the corner of the island; the Natividad was heading straight for him. He could see the glimmer of phosphorescence foam about her cut water. He could almost hear the sound of her passage through the water. He swallowed hard, and then all his excitement vanished and he was left deadly cool. He had forgotten about himself, and his mind was making calculations of time and space like a machine. Now he could hear the voice of a man at the lead on board the Natividad, although he could distinguish no word. The Spaniard was coming very close. By now he could hear the babble of the Spanish crew, everyone busy talking, like every Spaniard, and no one looking out sufficiently well to catch sight of the Lydia’s bare spars. Then he heard orders being shouted from the Natividad’s deck; she was going about. At the very first sound he put the whistle to his lips and blew, and the whole of the Lydia sprang into activity. Sail was loosed from every yard simultaneously. The cable was slipped, the boats were cast off. Hornblower, racing aft again, collided with the hands at the braces as the ship paid off. He picked himself off the deck and ran on, while the Lydia gathered way and surged forward. He reached the wheel in time.

57“Steady!” he called to the quartermaster. “Port a little! A little more! Now, hard-a-starboard!”

58So quickly had it all happened that the Spaniard had only just gone about and had gathered no way on her new course when the Lydia came leaping upon her out of the blackness behind the island and rasped alongside. Months of drill bore their fruit in the English ship. The guns crashed out in a single shattering broadside as the ships touched, sweeping the deck of the Natividad with grape. Overhead the topmen ran out along the yards and lashed the ships together. On deck the cheering boarders came rushing to the portside gangway.

59On board the Spaniard there was utter surprise. One moment all hands had been engrossed with the work of the ship, and the next, seemingly, an unknown enemy had come crashing alongside; the night had been torn to shreds with the flare of hostile guns; on every hand men had been struck down by the hurtling shot, and now an armed host, yelling like fiends from the pit, came pouring onto the deck. Not the most disciplined and experienced crew could have withstood the shock of that surprise. During the twenty years the Natividad had sailed the Pacific coast no enemy had been nearer to her than four thousand miles of sea.

60Yet even then there were some stout hearts who attempted resistance. These were officers who drew their swords; on the high quarterdeck there was an armed detachment who had been served out with weapons in consequence of the rumours of rebellion on shore; there were a few men who grasped capstan bars and belaying pins; but the upper deck was swept clear immediately by the wave of boarders with their pikes and cutlasses. A single pistol flashed and exploded. The Spaniards who offered resistance were struck down or chased below; the others were herded together under guard.

61And on the lower deck the men sought blindly round for leaders, for means of resistance. They were gathering together in the darkness ready to oppose the enemy above them, and to defend the hatchways, when suddenly a new yelling burst out behind them. Gerard’s two boats’ crews had reached the Natividad’s port side, and prising open the lower deck ports, came swarming in, yelling like fiends as their orders bid them do—Hornblower had foreseen that the moral effect of a surprise attack would be intensified, especially against undisciplined Spaniards, if the attackers made as much noise as possible. At this new surprise the resistance of the lower deck broke down completely, and Hornblower’s prescience in detaching the two boats’ crews to make this diversion was justified.