1Acting-Lieutenant Hornblower was bringing the sloop Le Reve, prize of h.m.s. Indefatigable, to anchor in Gibraltar Bay. He was nervous; if anyone had asked him if he thought that all the telescopes in the Mediterranean Fleet were trained upon him he would have laughed at the fantastic suggestion, but he felt as if they were. Nobody ever gauged more cautiously the strength of the gentle following breeze, or estimated more anxiously the distances between the big anchored ships of the line, or calculated more carefully the space Le Reve would need to swing at her anchor. Jackson, his petty officer, was standing forward awaiting the order to take in the jib, and he acted quickly at Hornblower’s hail.

2“Helm-a-lee” said Hornblower next, and Le Reve rounded into the wind. “Brail up!”

3Le Reve crept forward, her momentum diminishing as the wind took her way off her.

4“Let go!”

5The cable growled a protest as the anchor took it out through the hawsehole—that welcome splash of the anchor, telling of the journey’s end. Hornblower watched carefully while Le Reve took up on her cable, and then relaxed a little. He had brought the prize safely in. The commodore—Captain Sir Edward Pellew of h.m.s. Indefatigable—had clearly not yet returned, so that it was Hornblower’s duty to report to the port admiral.

6“Get the boat hoisted out” he ordered, and then, remembering his humanitarian duty, “And you can let the prisoners up on deck.”

7They had been battened down below for the last forty-eight hours, because the fear of a recapture was the nightmare of every prizemaster. But here in the Bay with the Mediterranean fleet all round that danger was at an end. Two hands at the oars of the gig sent her skimming over the water, and in ten minutes Hornblower was reporting his arrival to the admiral.

8“You say she shows a fair turn of speed?” said the latter, looking over at the prize.

9“Yes, sir. And she’s handy enough” said Hornblower.

10“I’ll purchase her into the service. Never enough despatch vessels” mused the Admiral.

11Even with that hint it was a pleasant surprise to Hornblower when he received heavily sealed official orders and, opening them, read that ‘you are hereby requested and required’ to take h.m. sloop Le Reve under his command and to proceed ‘with the utmost expedition’ to Plymouth as soon as the despatches destined for England should be put in his charge. It was an independent command; it was a chance of seeing England again (it was three years since Hornblower had last set foot on the English shore) and it was a high professional compliment. But there was another letter, delivered at the same moment, which Hornblower read with less elation.

12“Their Excellencies, Major-General Sir Hew and Lady Dalrymple, request the pleasure of Acting-Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower’s company at dinner today, at three o’clock, at Government House.”

13It might be a pleasure to dine with the Governor of Gibraltar and his lady, but it was only a mixed pleasure at best for an acting-lieutenant with a single sea chest, faced with the need to dress himself suitably for such a function. Yet it was hardly possible for a young man to walk up to Government House from the landing slip without a thrill of excitement, especially as his friend Mr. Midshipman Bracegirdle, who came from a wealthy family and had a handsome allowance, had lent him a pair of the finest white stockings of China silk—Bracegirdle’s calves were plump, and Hornblower’s were skinny, but that difficulty had been artistically circumvented. Two small pads of oakum, some strips of sticking plaster from the surgeon’s stores, and Hornblower now had a couple of legs of which no one need be ashamed. He could put his left leg forward to make his bow without any fear of wrinkles in his stockings, and sublimely conscious, as Bracegirdle said, of a leg of which any gentleman would be proud.

14At Government House the usual polished and languid aide-de-camp took charge of Hornblower and led him forward. He made his bow to Sir Hew, a red-faced and fussy old gentleman, and to Lady Dalrymple, a red-faced and fussy old lady.

15“Mr. Hornblower” said the latter “I must present you—Your Grace, this is Mr. Hornblower, the new captain of Le Reve. Her Grace the Duchess of Wharfedale.”

16A duchess, no less! Hornblower poked forward his padded leg, pointed his toe, laid his hand on his heart and bowed with all the depth the tightness of his breeches allowed—he had still been growing when he bought them on joining the Indefatigable. Bold blue eyes, and a once beautiful middle-aged face.

17“So this ’ere’s the feller in question?” said the duchess. “Matilda, my dear, are you going to hentrust me to a henfant in harms?”

18The startling vulgarity of the accent took Hornblower’s breath away. He had been ready for almost anything except that a superbly dressed duchess should speak in the accent of Seven Dials. He raised his eyes to stare, while forgetting to straighten himself up, standing with his chin poked forward and his hand still on his heart.

19“You look like a gander on a green” said the duchess. “I hexpects you to ’iss hany moment.”

20She stuck her own chin out and swung from side to side with her hands on her knees in a perfect imitation of a belligerent goose, apparently with so close a resemblance to Hornblower as well as to excite a roar of laughter from the other guests. Hornblower stood in blushing confusion.

21“Don’t be ’ard on the young feller” said the duchess, coming to his defence and patting him on the shoulder. “ ’E’s on’y young, an’ thet’s nothink to be ashamed of. Somethink to be prard of, for thet matter, to be trusted with a ship at thet hage.”

22It was lucky that the announcement of dinner came to save Hornblower from the further confusion into which this kindly remark had thrown him. Hornblower naturally found himself with the riff-raff, the ragtag and bobtail of the middle of the table along with the other junior officers—Sir Hew sat at one end with the duchess, while Lady Dalrymple sat with a commodore at the other. Moreover, there were not nearly as many women as men; that was only to be expected, as Gibraltar was, technically at least, a beleaguered fortress. So Hornblower had no woman on either side of him; at his right sat the young aide-de-camp who had first taken him in charge.

23“Your health, Your Grace” said the commodore, looking down the length of the table and raising his glass.

24“Thank ’ee” replied the duchess. “Just in time to save my life. I was wonderin’ ’oo’d come to my rescue.”

25She raised her brimming glass to her lips and when she put it down again it was empty.

26“A jolly boon companion you are going to have” said the aide-de-camp to Hornblower.

27“How is she going to be my companion?” asked Hornblower, quite bewildered.

28The aide-de-camp looked at him pityingly.

29“So you have not been informed?” he asked. “As always, the man most concerned is the last to know. When you sail with your despatches tomorrow you will have the honour of bearing Her Grace with you to England.”

30“God bless my soul” said Hornblower.

31“Let’s hope He does” said the aide-de-camp piously, nosing his wine. “Poor stuff this sweet Malaga is. Old Hare bought a job lot in ’95, and every governor since then seems to think it’s his duty to use it up.”

32“But who is she?” asked Hornblower.

33“Her Grace the Duchess of Wharfedale” replied the aide-de-camp. “Did you not hear Lady Dalrymple’s introduction?”

34“But she doesn’t talk like a duchess” protested Hornblower.

35“No. The old duke was in his dotage when he married her. She was an innkeeper’s widow, so her friends say. You can imagine, if you like, what her enemies say.”

36“But what is she doing here?” went on Hornblower.

37“She is on her way back to England. She was at Florence when the French marched in, I understand. She reached Leghorn and bribed a coaster to bring her here. She asked Sir Hew to find her a passage, and Sir Hew asked the Admiral—Sir Hew would ask anyone for anything on behalf of a duchess, even one said by her friends to be an innkeeper’s widow.”

38“I see” said Hornblower.

39There was a burst of merriment from the head of the table, and the duchess was prodding the governor’s scarlet-coated ribs with the handle of her knife, as if to make sure he saw the joke.

40“Maybe you will not lack for mirth on your homeward voyage” said the aide-de-camp.

41Just then a smoking sirloin of beef was put down in front of Hornblower, and all his other worries vanished before the necessity of carving it and remembering his manners. He took the carving knife and fork gingerly in his hands and glanced round at the company.

42“May I help you to some of this beef, Your Grace? Madam? Sir? Well done or underdone, sir? A little of the brown fat?”

43In the hot room the sweat ran down his face as he wrestled with the joint; he was fortunate that most of the guests desired helpings from the other removes so that he had little carving to do. He put a couple of haggled slices on his own plate as the simplest way of concealing the worst results of his own handiwork.

44“Beef from Tetuan” sniffed the aide-de-camp. “Tough and stringy.”

45That was all very well for a governor’s aide-de-camp—he could not guess how delicious was this food to a young naval officer fresh from beating about at sea in an overcrowded frigate. Even the thought of having to act as host to a duchess could not entirely spoil Hornblower’s appetite. And the final dishes, the meringues and macaroons, the custards and the fruits, were ecstasy for a young man whose last pudding had been currant duff last Sunday.

46“Those sweet things spoil a man’s palate” said the aide-de-camp—much Hornblower cared.

47They were drinking formal toasts now. Hornblower stood for the King and the royal family, and raised his glass for the duchess.

48“And now for the enemy” said Sir Hew, “may their treasure galleons try to cross the Atlantic.”

49“A supplement to that, Sir Hew” said the commodore at the other end “may the Dons make up their minds to leave Cadiz.”

50There was a growl almost like wild animals from round the table. Most of the naval officers present were from Jervis’ Mediterranean squadron which had beaten about in the Atlantic for the past several months hoping to catch the Spaniards should they come out. Jervis had to detach his ships to Gibraltar two at a time to replenish their stores, and these officers were from the two ships of the line present at the moment in Gibraltar.

51“Johnny Jervis would say amen to that” said Sir Hew. “A bumper to the Dons then, gentlemen, and may they come out from Cadiz.”

52The ladies left them then, gathered together by Lady Dalrymple, and as soon as it was decently possible Hornblower made his excuses and slipped away, determined not to be heavy with wine the night before he sailed in independent command.

53Maybe the prospect of the coming on board of the duchess was a useful counter-irritant, and saved Hornblower from worrying too much about his first command. He was up before dawn—before even the brief Mediterranean twilight had begun—to see that his precious ship was in condition to face the sea, and the enemies who swarmed upon the sea. He had four popgun four-pounders to deal with those enemies, which meant that he was safe from no one; his was the weakest vessel at sea, for the smallest trading brig carried a more powerful armament. So that like all weak creatures his only safety lay in flight—Hornblower looked aloft in the half-light, where the sails would be set on which so much might depend. He went over the watch bill with his two watch-keeping officers, Midshipman Hunter and Master’s Mate Winyatt, to make sure that every man of his crew of eleven knew his duty. Then all that remained was to put on his smartest seagoing uniform, try to eat breakfast, and wait for the duchess.

54She came early, fortunately; Their Excellencies had had to rise at a most unpleasant hour to see her off. Mr. Hunter reported the approach of the governor’s launch with suppressed excitement.

55“Thank you, Mr. Hunter” said Hornblower coldly—that was what the service demanded, even though not so many weeks before they had been playing follow-my-leader through the Indefatigable’s rigging together.

56The launch swirled alongside, and two neatly dressed seamen hooked on the ladder. Le Reve had such a small free-board that boarding her presented no problem even for ladies. The governor stepped on board to the twittering of the only two pipes Le Reve could muster, and Lady Dalrymple followed him. Then came the duchess, and the duchess’s companion; the latter was a younger woman, as beautiful as the duchess must once have been. A couple of aides-de-camp followed, and by that time the minute deck of Le Reve was positively crowded, so that there was no room left to bring up the duchess’s baggage.

57“Let us show you your quarters, Your Grace” said the governor.

58Lady Dalrymple squawked her sympathy at sight of the minute cabin, which the two cots almost filled, and everyone’s head, inevitably, bumped against the deck-beam above.

59“We shall live through it” said the duchess stoically “an’ that’s more than many a man makin’ a little trip to Tyburn could say.”

60One of the aides-de-camp produced a last minute packet of despatches and demanded Hornblower’s signature on the receipt; the last farewells were said, and Sir Hew and Lady Dalrymple went down the side again to the twittering of the pipes.

61“Man the windlass!” bellowed Hornblower the moment the launch’s crew bent to their oars.

62A few seconds’ lusty work brought Le Reve up to her anchor.

63“Anchor’s aweigh, sir” reported Winyatt.

64“Jib halliards!” shouted Hornblower. “Mains’l halliards!”

65Le Reve came round before the wind as her sails were set and her rudder took a grip on the water. Everyone was so busy catting the anchor and setting sail that it was Hornblower himself who dipped his colours in salute as Le Reve crept out beyond the mole before the gentle south-easter, and dipped her nose to the first of the big Atlantic rollers coming in through the Gut. Through the skylight beside him he heard a clatter and a wail, as something fell in the cabin with that first roll, but he could spare no attention for the woman below. He had the glass to his eye now, training it first on Algeciras and then upon Tarifa—some well-manned privateer or ship of war might easily dash out to snap up such a defenceless prey as Le Reve. He could not relax while the forenoon watch wore on. They rounded Cape Marroqui and he set a course for St. Vincent, and then the mountains of Southern Spain began to sink below the horizon. Cape Trafalgar was just visible on the starboard bow when at last he shut the telescope and began to wonder about dinner; it was pleasant to be captain of his own ship and to be able to order dinner when he chose. His aching legs told him he had been on his feet too long—eleven continuous hours; if the future brought him many independent commands he would wear himself out by this sort of behaviour.

66Down below he relaxed gratefully on the locker, and sent the cook to knock at the duchess’s cabin door to ask with his compliments if all was well; he heard the duchess’s sharp voice saying that they needed nothing, not even dinner. Hornblower philosophically shrugged his shoulders and ate his dinner with a young man’s appetite. He went on deck again as night closed in upon them; Winyatt had the watch.

67“It’s coming up thick, sir” he said.

68So it was. The sun was invisible on the horizon, engulfed in watery mist. It was the price he had to pay for a fair wind, he knew; in the winter months in these latitudes there was always likely to be fog where the cool land breeze reached the Atlantic.

69“It’ll be thicker still by morning” he said gloomily, and revised his night orders, setting a course due west instead of west by north as he originally intended. He wanted to make certain of keeping clear of Cape St. Vincent in the event of fog.

70That was one of those minute trifles which may affect a man’s whole after life—Hornblower had plenty of time later to reflect on what might have happened had he not ordered that alteration of course. During the night he was often on deck, peering through the increasing mist, but at the time when the crisis came he was down below snatching a little sleep. What woke him was a seaman shaking his shoulder violently.

71“Please, sir. Please, sir. Mr. Hunter sent me. Please, sir, won’t you come on deck, he says, sir.”

72“I’ll come” said Hornblower, blinking himself awake and rolling out of his cot.

73The faintest beginnings of dawn were imparting some slight luminosity to the mist which was close about them. Le Reve was lurching over an ugly sea with barely enough wind behind her to give her steerage way. Hunter was standing with his back to the wheel in an attitude of tense anxiety.

74“Listen!” he said, as Hornblower appeared.

75He half-whispered the word, and in his excitement he omitted the ‘sir’ which was due to his captain—and in his excitement Hornblower did not notice the omission. Hornblower listened. He heard the shipboard noises he could expect—the clattering of the blocks as Le Reve lurched, the sound of the sea at her bows. Then he heard other shipboard noises. There were other blocks clattering; the sea was breaking beneath other bows.

76“There’s a ship close alongside” said Hornblower.

77“Yes, sir” said Hunter. “And after I sent below for you I heard an order given. And it was in Spanish—some foreign tongue, anyway.”

78The tenseness of fear was all about the little ship like the fog.

79“Call all hands. Quietly” said Hornblower.

80But as he gave the order he wondered if it would be any use. He could send his men to their stations, he could man and load his four-pounders, but if that ship out there in the fog was of any force greater than a merchant ship he was in deadly peril. Then he tried to comfort himself—perhaps the ship was some fat Spanish galleon bulging with treasure, and were he to board her boldly she would become his prize and make him rich for life.

81“A ’appy Valentine’s day to you” said a voice beside him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise. He had actually forgotten the presence of the duchess on board.

82“Stop that row!” he whispered furiously at her, and she pulled up abruptly in astonishment. She was bundled up in a cloak and hood against the damp air, and no further detail could be seen of her in the darkness and fog.

83“May I hask——” she began.

84“Shut up!” whispered Hornblower.

85A harsh voice could be heard through the fog, other voices repeating the order, whistles being blown, much noise and bustle.

86“That’s Spanish, sir, isn’t it?” whispered Hunter.

87“Spanish for certain. Calling the watch. Listen!”

88The two double-strokes of a ship’s bell came to them across the water. Four bells in the morning watch. And instantly from all round them a dozen other bells could be heard, as if echoing the first.

89“We’re in the middle of a fleet, by God!” whispered Hunter.

90“Big ships, too, sir” supplemented Winyatt who had joined them with the calling of all hands. “I could hear half a dozen different pipes when they called the watch.”

91“The Dons are out, then” said Hunter.

92And the course I set has taken us into the midst of them, thought Hornblower bitterly. The coincidence was maddening, heartbreaking, but he forebore to waste breath over it. He even suppressed the frantic gibe that rose to his lips at the memory of Sir Hew’s toast about the Spaniards coming out from Cadiz.

93“They’re setting more sail” was what he said. “Dagos snug down at night, just like some fat Indiaman. They only set their t’gallants at daybreak.”

94All round them through the fog could be heard the whine of sheaves in blocks, the stamp-and-go of the men at the halliards, the sound of ropes thrown on decks, the chatter of a myriad voices.

95“They make enough noise about it, blast’em” said Hunter.

96The tension under which he laboured was apparent as he stood straining to peer through the mist.

97“Please God they’re on a different course to us” said Winyatt, more sensibly. “Then we’ll soon be through ’em.”

98“Not likely” said Hornblower.

99Le Reve was running almost directly before what little wind there was; if the Spaniards were beating against it or had it on their beam they would be crossing her course at a considerable angle, so that the volume of sound from the nearest ship would have diminished or increased considerably in this time, and there was no indication of that whatever. It was far more likely that Le Reve had overhauled the Spanish fleet under its nightly short canvas and had sailed forward into the middle of it. It was a problem what to do next in that case, to shorten sail, or to heave to, and let the Spaniards get ahead of them again, or to clap on sail to pass through. But the passage of the minutes brought clear proof that fleet and sloop were on practically the same course, as otherwise they could hardly fail to pass some ship close. As long as the mist held they were safest as they were.

100But that was hardly to be expected with the coming of day.

101“Can’t we alter course, sir?” asked Winyatt.

102“Wait” said Hornblower.

103In the faint growing light he had seen shreds of denser mist blowing past them—a clear indication that they could not hope for continuous fog. At that moment they ran out of a fog-bank into a clear patch of water.

104“There she is, by God!” said Hunter.

105Both officers and seamen began to move about in sudden panic.

106“Stand still, damn you!” rasped Hornblower, his nervous tension releasing itself in the fierce monosyllables.

107Less than a cable’s length away a three-decked ship of the line was standing along parallel to them on their starboard side. Ahead and on the port side could be seen the outlines, still shadowy, of other battleships. Nothing could save them if they drew attention to themselves; all that could be done was to keep going as if they had as much right there as the ships of the line. It was possible that in the happy-go-lucky Spanish navy the officer of the watch over there did not know that no sloop like Le Reve was attached to the fleet—or even possibly by a miracle there might be one. Le Reve was French built and French rigged, after all. Side by side Le Reve and the battleship sailed over the lumpy sea. They were within point-blank range of fifty big guns, when one well-aimed shot would sink them. Hunter was uttering filthy curses under his breath, but discipline had asserted itself; a telescope over there on the Spaniard’s deck would not discover any suspicious bustle on board the sloop. Another shred of fog drifted past them, and then they were deep in a fresh fog bank.

108“Thank God!” said Hunter, indifferent to the contrast between this present piety and his preceding blasphemy.

109“Hands wear ship” said Hornblower. “Lay her on the port tack.”

110There was no need to tell the hands to do it quietly; they were as well aware of their danger as anyone. Le Reve silently rounded-to, the sheets were hauled in and coiled down without a sound; and the sloop, as close to the wind as she would lie, heeled to the small wind, meeting the lumpy waves with her port bow.

111“We’ll be crossing their course now” said Hornblower.

112“Please God it’ll be under their sterns and not their bows” said Winyatt.

113There was the duchess still in her cloak and hood, standing right aft as much out of the way as possible.

114“Don’t you think Your Grace had better go below?” asked Hornblower, making use by a great effort of the formal form of address.

115“Oh no, please” said the duchess. “I couldn’t bear it.” Hornblower shrugged his shoulders, and promptly forgot the duchess’s presence again as a new anxiety struck him. He dived below and came up again with the two big sealed envelopes of despatches. He took a belaying pin from the rail and began very carefully to tie the envelopes to the pin with a bit of line.

116“Please” said the duchess “please, Mr. Hornblower, tell me what you are doing?”

117“I want to make sure these will sink when I throw them overboard if we’re captured” said Hornblower grimly.

118“Then they’ll be lost for good?”

119“Better that than that the Spaniards should read ’em” said Hornblower with all the patience he could muster.

120“I could look after them for you” said the duchess. “Indeed I could.”

121Hornblower looked keenly at her.

122“No” he said “they might search your baggage. Probably they would.”

123“Baggage!” said the duchess. “As if I’d put them in my baggage! I’ll put them next my skin—they won’t search me in any case. They’ll never find ’em, not if I put ’em up my petticoats.”

124There was a brutal realism about those words that staggered Hornblower a little, but which also brought him to admit to himself that there was something in what the duchess was saying.

125“If they capture us” said the duchess “—I pray they won’t, but if they do—they’ll never keep me prisoner. You know that. They’ll send me to Lisbon or put me aboard a King’s ship as soon as they can. Then the despatches will be delivered eventually. Late, but better late than never.”

126“That’s so” mused Hornblower.

127“I’ll guard them like my life” said the duchess. “I swear I’ll never part from them. I’ll tell no one I have them, not until I hand them to a King’s officer.”

128She met Hornblower’s eyes with transparent honesty in her expression.

129“Fog’s thinning, sir” said Winyatt.

130“Quick!” said the duchess.

131There was no time for further debate. Hornblower slipped the envelopes from their binding of rope and handed them over to her, and replaced the belaying pin in the rail.

132“These damned French fashions” said the duchess. “I was right when I said I’d put these letters up my petticoats. There’s no room in my bosom.”

133Certainly the upper part of her gown was not at all capacious; the waist was close up under the armpits and the rest of the dress hung down from there quite straight in utter defiance of anatomy.

134“Give me a yard of that rope, quick!” said the duchess.

135Winyatt cut her a length of the line with his knife and handed it to her. Already she was hauling at her petticoats; the appalled Hornblower saw a gleam of white thigh above her stocking tops before he tore his glance away. The fog was certainly thinning.

136“You can look at me now” said the duchess; but her petticoats only just fell in time as Hornblower looked round again. “They’re inside my shift, next my skin as I promised. With these Directory fashions no one wears stays any more. So I tied the rope round my waist outside my shift. One envelope is flat against my chest and the other against my back. Would you suspect anything?”

137She turned round for Hornblower’s inspection.

138“No, nothing shows” he said. “I must thank Your Grace.”

139“There is a certain thickening” said the duchess “but it does not matter what the Spaniards suspect as long as they do not suspect the truth.”

140Momentary cessation of the need for action brought some embarrassment to Hornblower. To discuss with a woman her shift and stays—or the absence of them—was a strange thing to do.

141A watery sun, still nearly level, was breaking through the mist and shining in his eyes. The mainsail cast a watery shadow on the deck. With every second the sun was growing brighter.

142“Here it comes” said Hunter.

143The horizon ahead expanded rapidly, from a few yards to a hundred, from a hundred yards to half a mile. The sea was covered with ships. No less than six were in plain sight, four ships of the line and two big frigates, with the red-and-gold of Spain at their mastheads, and, what marked them even more obviously as Spaniards, huge wooden crosses hanging at their peaks.

144“Wear ship again, Mr. Hunter” said Hornblower. “Back into the fog.”

145That was the one chance of safety. Those ships running down towards them were bound to ask questions, and they could not hope to avoid them all. Le Reve spun around on her heel, but the fog-bank from which she had emerged was already attenuated, sucked up by the thirsty sun. They could see a drifting stretch of it ahead, but it was lazily rolling away from them at the same time as it was dwindling. The heavy sound of a cannon shot reached their ears, and close on their starboard quarter a ball threw up a fountain of water before plunging into the side of a wave just ahead. Hornblower looked round just in time to see the last of the puff of smoke from the bows of the frigate astern pursuing them.

146“Starboard two points” he said to the helmsman, trying to gauge at one and the same moment the frigate’s course, the direction of the wind, the bearing of the other ships, and that of the thin last nucleus of that wisp of fog.

147“Starboard two points” said the helmsman.

148“Fore and main sheets!” said Hunter.

149Another shot, far astern this time but laid true for line; Hornblower suddenly remembered the duchess.

150“You must go below, Your Grace” he said curtly.

151“Oh, no, no, no!” burst out the duchess with angry vehemence. “Please let me stay here. I can’t go below to where that seasick maid of mine lies hoping to die. Not in that stinking box of a cabin.”

152There would be no safety in that cabin, Hornblower reflected—Le Reve’s scantlings were too fragile to keep out any shot at all. Down below the waterline in the hold the women might be safe, but they would have to lie flat on top of beef barrels.

153“Sail ahead!” screamed the lookout.

154The mist there was parting and the outline of a ship of the line was emerging from it, less than a mile away and on almost the same course as Le Reve’s. Thud—thud from the frigate astern. Those gunshots by now would have warned the whole Spanish fleet that something unusual was happening. The battleship ahead would know that the little sloop was being pursued. A ball tore through the air close by, with its usual terrifying noise. The ship ahead was awaiting their coming; Hornblower saw her topsails slowly turning.

155“Hands to the sheets!” said Hornblower. “Mr. Hunter, jibe her over.”

156Le Reve came round again, heading for the lessening gap on the port side. The frigate astern turned to intercept. More jets of smoke from her bows. With an appalling noise a shot passed within a few feet of Hornblower, so that the wind of it made him stagger. There was a hole in the mainsail.

157“Your Grace” said Hornblower “those aren’t warning shots——”

158It was the ship of the line which fired then, having succeeded in clearing away and manning some of her upper-deck guns. It was as if the end of the world had come. One shot hit Le Reve’s hull, and they felt the deck heave under their feet as a result as if the little ship were disintegrating. But the mast was hit at the same moment, stays and shrouds parting, splinters raining all round. Mast, sails, boom, gaff and all went from above them over the side to windward. The wreckage dragged in the sea and turned the helpless wreck round with the last of her way. The little group aft stood momentarily dazed.

159“Anybody hurt?” asked Hornblower, recovering himself.

160“On’y a scratch, sir” said one voice.

161It seemed a miracle that no one was killed.

162“Carpenter’s mate, sound the well” said Hornblower and then, recollecting himself, “No, damn it. Belay that order. If the Dons can save the ship, let ’em try.”

163Already the ship of the line whose salvo had done the damage was filling her topsails again and bearing away from them, while the frigate which had pursued them was running down on them fast. A wailing figure came scrambling out of the after hatchway. It was the duchess’s maid, so mad with terror that her seasickness was forgotten. The duchess put a protective arm round her and tried to comfort her.

164“Your Grace had better look to your baggage” said Hornblower. “No doubt you’ll be leaving us shortly for other quarters with the Dons. I hope you will be more comfortable.”

165He was trying desperately hard to speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening, as if he were not soon to be a prisoner of the Spaniards; but the duchess saw the working of the usually firm mouth, and marked how the hands were tight clenched.

166“How can I tell you how sorry I am about this?” asked the duchess, her voice soft with pity.

167“That makes it the harder for me to bear” said Hornblower, and he even forced a smile.

168The Spanish frigate was just rounding-to, a cable’s length to windward.

169“Please, sir” said Hunter.

170“Well?”

171“We can fight, sir. You give the word. Cold shot to drop in the boats when they try to board. We could beat ’em off once, perhaps.”

172Hornblower’s tortured misery nearly made him snap out ‘Don’t be a fool’, but he checked himself. He contented himself with pointing to the frigate. Twenty guns were glaring at them at far less than point-blank range. The very boat the frigate was hoisting out would be manned by at least twice as many men as Le Reve carried—she was no bigger than many a pleasure yacht. It was not odds of ten to one, or a hundred to one, but odds of ten thousand to one.

173“I understand, sir” said Hunter.

174Now the Spanish frigate’s boat was in the water, about to shove off.

175“A private word with you, please, Mr. Hornblower” said the duchess suddenly.

176Hunter and Winyatt heard what she said, and withdrew out of earshot.

177“Yes, Your Grace?” said Hornblower.

178The duchess stood there, still with her arm round her weeping maid, looking straight at him.

179“I’m no more of a duchess than you are” she said.

180“Good God!” said Hornblower. “Who—who are you, then?”

181“Kitty Cobham.”

182The name meant a little to Hornblower, but only a little.

183“You’re too young for that name to have any memories for you, Mr. Hornblower, I see. It’s five years since last I trod the boards.”

184That was it. Kitty Cobham the actress.

185“I can’t tell it all now” said the duchess—the Spanish boat was dancing over the waves towards them. “But when the French marched into Florence that was only the last of my misfortunes. I was penniless when I escaped from them. Who would lift a finger for a onetime actress—one who had been betrayed and deserted? What was I to do? But a duchess—that was another story. Old Dalrymple at Gibraltar could not do enough for the Duchess of Wharfedale.”

186“Why did you choose that title?” asked Hornblower in spite of himself.

187“I knew of her” said the duchess with a shrug of the shoulders. “I knew her to be what I played her as. That was why I chose her—I always played character parts better than straight comedy. And not nearly so tedious in a long role.”

188“But my despatches!” said Hornblower in a sudden panic of realisation. “Give them back, quick.”

189“If you wish me to” said the duchess. “But I can still be the duchess when the Spaniards come. They will still set me free as speedily as they can. I’ll guard those despatches better than my life—I swear it, I swear it! In less than a month I’ll deliver them, if you trust me.”

190Hornblower looked at the pleading eyes. She might be a spy, ingeniously trying to preserve the despatches from being thrown overboard before the Spaniards took possession. But no spy could have hoped that Le Reve would run into the midst of the Spanish fleet.

191“I made use of the bottle, I know” said the Duchess. “I drank. Yes, I did. But I stayed sober in Gibraltar, didn’t I? And I won’t touch a drop, not a drop, until I’m in England. I’ll swear that, too. Please, sir—please. I beg of you. Let me do what I can for my country.”

192It was a strange decision for a man of nineteen to have to make—one who had never exchanged a word with an actress in his life before. A harsh voice overside told him that the Spanish boat was about to hook on.

193“Keep them, then” said Hornblower. “Deliver them when you can.”

194He had not taken his eyes from her face. He was looking for a gleam of triumph in her expression. Had he seen anything of the sort he would have torn the despatches from her body at that moment. But all he saw was the natural look of pleasure, and it was then that he made up his mind to trust her—not before.

195“Oh, thank you, sir” said the duchess.

196The Spanish boat had hooked on now, and a Spanish lieutenant was awkwardly trying to climb aboard. He arrived on the deck on his hands and knees, and Hornblower stepped over to receive him as he got to his feet. Captor and captive exchanged bows. Hornblower could not understand what the Spaniard said, but obviously they were formal sentences that he was using. The Spaniard caught sight of the two women aft and halted in surprise; Hornblower hastily made the presentation in what he hoped was Spanish.

197“Señor el tenente Espanol” he said. “Señora la Duquesa de Wharfedale.”

198The title clearly had its effect; the lieutenant bowed profoundly, and his bow was received with the most lofty aloofness by the duchess. Hornblower could be sure the despatches were safe. That was some alleviation of the misery of standing here on the deck of his waterlogged little ship, a prisoner of the Spaniards. As he waited he heard, from far to leeward, roll upon roll of thunder coming up against the wind. No thunder could endure that long. What he could hear must be the broadsides of ships in action—of fleets in action. Somewhere over there by Cape St. Vincent the British fleet must have caught the Spaniards at last. Fiercer and fiercer sounded the roll of the artillery. There was excitement among the Spaniards who had scrambled onto the deck of Le Reve, while Hornblower stood bareheaded waiting to be taken into captivity.

199Captivity was a dreadful thing. Once the numbness had worn off Hornblower came to realise what a dreadful thing it was. Not even the news of the dreadful battering which the Spanish navy had received at St. Vincent could relieve the misery and despair of being a prisoner. It was not the physical conditions—ten square feet of floor space per man in an empty sail loft at Ferrol along with other captive warrant officers—for they were no worse than what a junior officer often had to put up with at sea. It was the loss of freedom, the fact of being a captive, that was so dreadful.

200There were four months of it before the first letter came through to Hornblower; the Spanish government, inefficient in all ways, had the worst postal system in Europe. But here was the letter, addressed and re-addressed, now safely in his hands after he had practically snatched it from a stupid Spanish non-commissioned officer who had been puzzling over the strange name. Hornblower did not know the handwriting, and when he broke the seal and opened the letter the salutation made him think for a moment that he had opened someone else’s letter.

201‘Darling Boy’ it began. Now who on earth would call him that? He read on in a dream.

202‘Darling Boy,

203I hope it will give you happiness to hear that what you gave me has reached its destination. They told me, when I delivered it, that you are a prisoner, and my heart bleeds for you. And they told me too that they were pleased with you for what you had done. And one of those admirals is a shareholder in Drury Lane. Whoever would have thought of such a thing? But he smiled at me, and I smiled at him. I did not know he was a shareholder then, and I only smiled out of the kindness of my heart. And all that I told him about my dangers and perils with my precious burden were only histrionic exercises, I am afraid. Yet he believed me, and so struck was he by my smile and my adventures, that he demanded a part for me from Sherry, and behold, now I am playing second lead, usually a tragic mother, and receiving the acclaim of the groundlings. There are compensations in growing old, which I am discovering too. And I have not tasted wine since I saw you last, nor shall I ever again. As one more reward, my admiral promised me that he would forward this letter to you in the next cartel—an expression which no doubt means more to you than to me. I only hope that it reaches you in good time and brings you comfort in your affliction.