1Hornblower came walking into his office at Admiralty House at half past five o’clock in the morning exactly. Now that the summer was come, there was just enough daylight at that time to transact business and it was a fairly cool moment as well. Gerard and Spendlove, his flag lieutenant and secretary, were waiting for him there—it would have gone hard with them if they had not been—and they pulled themselves erect, without any clicking of heels (for in three years they had found that their chief discountenanced the practice), and they said, “Good morning, my lord,” “Good morning, my lord,” as if they were the two barrels of a shotgun.

2“Morning,” said Hornblower. He had not had his breakfast coffee yet; otherwise he would have put “good” in front of “morning.”

3He sat down at his desk, and Spendlove came to hover over his shoulder with a sheaf of papers while Gerard made the dawn report.

4“Weather conditions normal, my lord. High water today at eleven-thirty. No arrivals during the night, and nothing in sight this morning from the signal station. No news of the packet, my lord, and no news of Triton.”

5“A negative report if ever there was one,” said Hornblower. The negatives in the last two phrases balanced each other; H.M.S. Triton was bringing out his successor to relieve him of his command at the end of his three years’ appointment, and Hornblower was not happy over the prospect of ceasing to be commander-in-chief in the West Indies; but the West Indian packet was bringing out his wife, whom he had not seen during all this time, and to whose arrival he was eagerly looking forward. She was coming out so as to make the return voyage to England with him.

6“The packet’s due any day, my lord,” said Gerard soothingly.

7“Your business is to tell me things I don’t know, Mr. Gerard,” snapped Hornblower. It annoyed him to be soothed like a child, and it annoyed him still more that his personal staff should think him human enough to be anxious to see his wife. He looked over his shoulder at his secretary. “What do you have there, Spendlove?”

8Spendlove made a hasty rearrangement of the papers in his hand. Hornblower’s morning coffee was due at any moment, and Spendlove had something he did not want to show his chief until the coffee had come and was half drunk at least.

9“Here are the dockyard returns to the thirty-first ultimo, my lord,” he said.

10“Can’t you say ‘to the end of last month’?” demanded Hornblower, taking them from him.

11“Aye aye, my lord,” said Spendlove, passionately hoping the coffee would come soon.

12“Anything in these?” asked Hornblower, glancing over them.

13“Nothing for your special attention, my lord.”

14“Then why trouble me with them? Next?”

15“The warrants for the new gunner in Clorinda, my lord, and for the dockyard cooper.”

16“Your coffee, my lord,” said Gerard at this moment, the relief in his voice perfectly apparent.

17“Better late than never,” snapped Hornblower. “And for God’s sake don’t fuss round me. I’ll pour it for myself.”

18Spendlove and Gerard were busily making room on his desk for the tray to be put down, and Spendlove hastily withdrew his hand from the coffeepot handle.

19“Too damned hot,” said Hornblower, taking a sip. “It’s always too damned hot.”

20Last week the new system had been begun, whereby coffee was brought in to him after his arrival in his office, instead of awaiting him there, because he had complained then that it was always too cold, but neither Spendlove nor Gerard saw fit to remind him of this.

21“I’ll sign those warrants,” said Hornblower. “Not that I think that cooper’s worth his salt. His barrels open up into birdcages.”

22Spendlove scattered sand from the caster over the wet ink of Hornblower’s signatures, and put the warrants aside. Hornblower took another sip of coffee.

23“Here’s your refusal of the Crichtons’ invitation, my lord. In the third person, so your signature isn’t necessary.”

24If that had been said to him a little while before, Hornblower would have demanded why in that case he was being bothered with it, forgetful of his own standing order that nothing was to go out in his name without his seeing it. But even two sips of coffee had done their work.

25“Very well,” he said, glancing over it, and taking up his cup again.

26Spendlove watched the level of the liquid sink in the cup, and judged the moment to be more propitious now. He laid a letter on the desk.

27“From Sir Thomas, my lord.”

28Hornblower uttered a small groan as he picked it up; Captain Sir Thomas Fell of H.M.S. Clorinda was a fussy individual, and a communication from him usually meant trouble—unnecessary trouble, and therefore to be grudged. Not in this case, though. Hornblower read the official document and then craned over his shoulder at Spendlove.

29“What’s all this about?” he demanded.

30“It’s rather a curious case, I hear, my lord,” answered Spendlove.

31It was a “circumstantial letter,” a formal request from Captain Fell for a court-martial to be held on Bandsman Hudnutt of the Royal Marines, for “wilful and persistent disobedience to orders.” Such a charge if substantiated meant death, or else such a flogging that death would be preferable. Spendlove was perfectly well aware that his admiral detested hangings and floggings.

32“The charges are preferred by the drum-major,” commented Hornblower to himself.

33He knew the drum-major, Cobb, perfectly well, or at least as well as the peculiar circumstances permitted. As admiral and commander-in-chief, Hornblower had his own band, which was under the command of Cobb, holding warrant rank. Previous to all official occasions where music had to be provided Cobb reported to Hornblower for orders and instructions, and Hornblower would go through the farce of agreeing with the suggestions put forward. He had never publicly admitted that he could not tell one note from another; he could actually distinguish one tune from another by the jigginess or otherwise of the time. He was a little uneasy in case all this was more common knowledge than he hoped.

34“What d’you mean by ‘a curious case,’ Spendlove?” he asked.

35“I believe an artistic conscience is involved, my lord,” replied Spendlove cautiously. Hornblower was pouring, and tasting, his second cup of coffee; that might have a bearing on the breaking of Bandsman Hudnutt’s neck, thought Spendlove. At the same time Hornblower was feeling the inevitable irritation resulting from having to listen to gossip. An admiral in his splendid isolation never—or only rarely—knew as much about what was going on as his most junior subordinate.

36“An artistic conscience?” he repeated. “I’ll see the drum-major this morning. Send for him now.”

37“Aye aye, my lord.”

38He had received the one necessary clue, and need not demean himself by prying further unless the interview with Cobb should prove unfruitful.

39“Now let’s have that draught report until he comes.”

40Drum-Major Cobb did not arrive for some time, and his resplendent uniform when he did arrive hinted that he had taken care about his appearance; tunic and pantaloons were freshly ironed, his buttons glittered, his sash was exactly draped, his sword hilt shone like silver. He was an enormous man with an enormous moustache, and he made an enormous entrance into the room, striding over the resounding floor as if he were twice as heavy as he actually was, clashing his boot heels together as he halted before the desk and swept his hand upward in the salute fashionable at the moment among the Royal Marines.

41“Good morning, Mr. Cobb,” said Hornblower mildly; the “Mr.,” like the sword, was an indication that Cobb was a gentleman by virtue of his warrant even though he had risen from the ranks.

42“Good morning, my lord.” There was as much flourish in the phrase as there had been in the salute.

43“I want to hear about these charges against this bandsman—Hudnutt.”

44“Well, my lord—” A sideways glance from Cobb gave Hornblower a hint.

45“Get out of here,” said Hornblower to his staff. “Leave Mr. Cobb alone with me.”

46When the door was shut Hornblower was all good manners.

47“Please sit down, Mr. Cobb. Then you can tell me at your ease what really happened.”

48“Thank you, my lord.”

49“Well, now?”

50“That young ’Udnutt, my lord, ’e’s a fool if ever there was one. I’m sorry this ’as ’appened, my lord, but ’e deserves all ’e’s going to get.”

51“Yes? He’s a fool, you say?”

52“ ’E’s a downright fool, my lord. I’m not saying ’e isn’t a good musician, ’cause ’e is. There ain’t no one ’oo can play the cornet the way ’e does. That’s the truth, my lord. ’E’s a boy wonder at it. The cornet’s a newfangled instrument, my lord. We ain’t ’ad it in our bands for more’n a year. Blow it like a trumpet, you do; you ’ave to ’ave a lip for it, although it ’as keys as well, my lord. An’ ’e’s a marvel at it, or ’e was, my lord.”

53That change to the past tense indicated that in Cobb’s positive opinion Hudnutt, through death or disablement, would never play the cornet again.

54“He’s young?”

55“Nineteen, my lord.”

56“And what did he do?”

57“It was mutiny, my lord, flat mutiny, although I’ve only charged him with disobedience to orders.”

58Mutiny meant death by the Articles of War; disobedience to orders meant “death, or such less punishment . . .”

59“How did it happen?”

60“Well, my lord, it was like this. We was rehearsing the new march that come out in the last packet. ‘Dondello,’ it’s called, my lord. Just the cornet an’ the drums. An’ it sounded different, an’ I had ’Udnutt play it again. I could ’ear what ’e was doin’, my lord. There’s a lot of B flat accidentals in that march, an’ ’e wasn’t flatting them. I asked ’im what ’e meant by it, an’ ’e said it sounded too sweet. That’s what ’e said, my lord. An’ it’s written on the music. Dolce, it says, and dolce means sweet, my lord.”

61“I know,” lied Hornblower.

62“So I says, ‘You play that again and you flat those B’ s.’ An’ ’e says, ‘I can’ t.’ An’ I says, ‘You mean you won’t?’ An’ then I says, ‘I’ll give you one more chance’—although by rights I shouldn’t ’ave, my lord. An’ I says, ‘This is an order, remember,’ an’ I gives ’em the beat an they starts off and there was the B natural s. So I says, ‘You ’eard me give you an order?’ An’ ’e says, ‘Ye s.’ So there wasn’t nothing I could do after that, my lord. I calls the guard an’ I ’ad ’im marched to the guard’ouse. An’ then I ’ad to prefer charges, my lord. ”

63“This happened with the band present?”

64“Yes, my lord. The ’ole band, sixteen of ’em.”

65Wilful disobedience to an order, before sixteen witnesses. It hardly mattered if there were six or sixteen or sixty; the point was that every one in Hornblower’s command knew by now that discipline had been defied, an order deliberately disobeyed. The man must die, or he must be flogged into a crippled wreck, lest other men defy orders. Hornblower knew he had his command well in hand, but he knew, too, of the turbulence that lay below the surface. And yet—if the order that had been disobeyed had been something different, if there had been a refusal to lay out along a yard, say, however perilous the conditions, Hornblower would not have given all this thought to the matter, despite his detestation of physical cruelty. That sort of order must be instantly obeyed. “Artistic conscience,” Spendlove had said. Hornblower had no idea of any difference between B and B flat, but he could dimly understand that it might be important to some people. A man might be tempted to refuse to do something that offended his artistic sensibilities.

66“I suppose the man was sober?” he demanded suddenly.

67“As sober as you an’ me, my lord.”

68Another idea crossed Hornblower’s mind.

69“What’s the chances of a misprint in the music?” he asked; he was struggling with things he did not understand.

70“Well, my lord, there is such things. But it’s for me to say if there’s a misprint or not. An’ although ’e can read music I don’t know if ’e can read print, my lord, an’ if ’e can I don’t expect ’e can read Eyetalian, but there it says dolce, it says, on the official music, my lord.”

71In Cobb’s eyes this aggravated the offense, if aggravation were possible. Not only had his order been disobeyed, but Hudnutt had not respected the written instructions sent by whoever was responsible in London for sending out music to marine bands. Cobb was a marine first and a musician second; Hudnutt might be a musician first and a marine second. But—Hornblower pulled himself up sharply—that made Hudnutt’s condemnation all the more necessary. A marine had to be a marine, first, foremost, and all the time. If marines started to choose whether they could be marines or not, the Royal Regiment would cease to be a military body, and it was his duty to maintain it as a military body.

72Hornblower studied Cobb’s expression intently. The man was speaking the truth, at least as far as the truth was apparent to him. He was not wilfully distorting facts because of personal prejudice or as a result of some old feud. If his action, and his report on it, had been influenced by jealousy or natural cruelty, he was unaware of it. A court-martial would be impressed by his reliability as a witness. And he remained unperturbed under Hornblower’s steady stare.

73“Thank you, Mr. Cobb,” said Hornblower at last “I am glad to have had such a clear statement of the facts. That will be all for the present.”

74“Thank you, my lord,” answered Cobb, shooting his great bulk up out of the chair with an astonishing mixture of agility and military rigidity. His heels clashed as his hand swept up in the salute; he turned about with parade precision, and marched out of the room with resounding steps as precise as if timed by his own metronome.

75Gerard and Spendlove came back into the room to find Hornblower staring at nothing, but Hornblower shook off his preoccupation instantly. It would never do for his subordinates to guess that he was moved by human feelings over a mere administrative matter.

76“Draft an answer to Sir Thomas for my signature, if you please, Mr. Spendlove. It can be a mere acknowledgment, but then add that there is no possibility of immediate action, because I cannot assemble the necessary number of captains at present with so many ships detached.”

77Except in emergency a court where sentence of death might be passed could not be convened unless there were at least seven captains and commanders available as judges. That gave him time to consider what action he should take.

78“This man’s in the dockyard prison, I suppose,” went on Hornblower. “Remind me to take a look at him on my way through the dockyard today.”

79“Aye aye, my lord,” said Gerard, careful to betray no surprise at an admiral allotting time to visit a mutinous marine.

80Yet it was not far out of Hornblower’s way. When the time came he strolled slowly down through the beautiful garden of Admiralty House, and Evans, the disabled sailor who was head gardener, came in a jerky hurry to open the wicket gate in the fifteen-foot palisade that protected the dockyard from thieves, in this portion of its course dividing the Admiralty garden from the dockyard. Evans took off his hat and stood bobbing by the gate, his pigtail bobbing at his back, and his swarthy face split by a beaming smile.

81“Thank you, Evans,” said Hornblower, passing through.

82The prison stood isolated at the edge of the dockyard, a small cubical building of mahogany logs, set diagonally in a curious fashion, possibly—probably—more than one layer. It was roofed with palm thatch a yard or more thick, which might at least help to keep it cool under the glaring sun. Gerard had run on ahead from the gate—with Hornblower grinning at the thought of the healthful sweat the exercise would produce—to find the officer in charge and obtain the key to the prison, and Hornblower stood by while the padlock was unfastened and he could look into the darkness within. Hudnutt had risen to his feet at the sound of the key, and when he stepped forward into the light he was revealed as a painfully young man, his cheeks hardly showing a trace of his one day’s beard. He was naked except for a waistcloth, and the officer in charge clucked with annoyance.

83“Get some clothes on and be decent,” he growled, but Hornblower checked him.

84“No matter. I’ve very little time. I want this man to tell me why he is under charges. You others keep out of earshot.”

85Hudnutt had been taken by surprise by this sudden visit, but he was a bewildered person in any case, obviously. He blinked big blue eyes in the sunlight and wriggled his gangling form with embarrassment.

86“What happened? Tell me,” said Hornblower.

87“Well, sir—”

88Hornblower had to coax the story out of him, but bit by bit it confirmed all that Cobb had said.

89“I couldn’t play that music, sir, not for nothing.”

90The blue eyes looked over Hornblower’s head at infinity; perhaps at some vision invisible to the rest of the world.

91“You were a fool to disobey an order.”

92“Yes, sir. Mebbe so, sir.”

93The broad Yorkshire which Hudnutt spoke sounded odd in this tropical setting.

94“How did you come to enlist?”

95“For the music, sir.”

96It called for more questions to extract the story. A boy in a Yorkshire village, not infrequently hungry. A cavalry regiment billeted there, in the last years of the war. The music of its band was like a miracle to this child, who had heard no music save that of wandering pipers in the ten years of his life. It made him conscious of—it did not create, for it already existed—a frightful, overwhelming need. All the children of the village hung round the band (Hudnutt smiled disarmingly as he said this) but none so persistently as he. The trumpeters noticed him soon enough, laughed at his infantile comments about music, but laughed with sympathy as time went on; they let him try to blow their instruments, showed him how to cultivate a lip, and were impressed by the eventual result. The regiment returned after Waterloo, and for two more years the boy went on learning, even though those were the hungry years following the peace when he should have been bird scaring and stone picking from dawn to dark.

97And then the regiment transferred and the hungry years went on, and the boy labourer began to handle the plough, still yearning for music, while a trumpet cost more than a year’s full wages for a man. Then an interlude of pure bliss—the disarming smile again—when he joined a wandering theatrical troupe, as odd-job boy and musician; that was how he came to be able to read music although he could not read the printed word. His belly was empty as often as before; a stable yard meant a luxurious bed to him; those months were months of flea-bitten nights and footsore days, and they ended in his being left behind sick. That happened in Portsmouth, and then it was inevitable that, hungry and weak, he should be picked up by a marine recruiting sergeant marching through the streets with a band. His enlistment coincided with the introduction of the cornet-à-pistons into military music, and the next thing that happened to him was that he was shipped off to the West Indies to take his place in the commander-in-chief’s band under the direction of Drum-Major Cobb.

98“I see,” said Hornblower; and indeed he could dimly see.

99Six months with a travelling theatrical troupe would be poor preparation for the discipline of the Royal Marines; that was obvious. But he could guess at the rest, at this sensitiveness about music which was the real cause of the trouble. He eyed the boy again, seeking for ideas regarding how to deal with this situation.

100“My lord! My lord!” This was Gerard hastening up to him. “The packet’s signalled, my lord. You can see the flag at the lookout station masthead!”

101The packet? Barbara would be on board. It was three years since he had seen her last, and for three weeks now he had been awaiting her from minute to minute.

102“Call away my barge. I’m coming,” he said.

103A wave of excitement swept away his concern regarding the Hudnutt affair. He was about to hurry after Gerard, and then hesitated. What could he say in two seconds to a man awaiting trial for his life? What could he say, when he himself was bubbling with happiness, to this man caged like an animal, like an ox helplessly awaiting the butcher?

104“Good-bye, Hudnutt.” That was all he could say, leaving him standing dumbly there—he could hear the clash of keys and padlock as he hastened after Gerard.

105Eight oars bit into the blue water, but no speed that they could give the dancing barge could be fast enough to satisfy him. There was the brig, her sails trimmed to catch the first hesitant puffs of the sea breeze. There was a white dot at her side, a white figure—Barbara waving her handkerchief. The barge surged alongside and Hornblower swung himself up into the main chains, and there was Barbara in his arms; there were her lips against his, and then her grey eyes smiling at him, and then her lips against his again, and the afternoon sun blazing down on them both. Then they could stand at arm’s length and look at each other, and Barbara could raise her hands and twitch his neckcloth straight, so that he could be sure they were really together, for Barbara’s first gesture was always to straighten his neckcloth.

106“You look well, my dear,” she said.

107“So do you!”

108Her cheeks were golden with sunburn after a month at sea; Barbara never strove after the fashionable creaminess that distinguished the lady of leisure from the milkmaid or the goosegirl. And they laughed in each other’s faces out of sheer happiness before they kissed again and then eventually drew apart.

109“Dear, this is Captain Knyvett, who has looked after me so kindly on the voyage.”

110“Welcome aboard, my lord.” Knyvett was short and stocky and grizzled. “But I fancy you’ll not be staying with us long today.”

111“We’ll both be your passengers when you sail again,” said Barbara.

112“If my relief has come,” said Hornblower, adding to Barbara, “Triton hasn’t arrived yet.”

113“ ’Twill be two full weeks before we’re ready to sail again, my lord,” said Knyvett. “I trust we shall have the pleasure of your company and her ladyship’s.”

114“I sincerely hope so,” said Hornblower. “Meanwhile we’ll leave you for now—I hope you’ll dine at Admiralty House as soon as you have leisure. Can you get down into the barge, my dear?”

115“Of course,” said Barbara.

116“Gerard, you’ll stay on board and look after her ladyship’s baggage.”

117“Aye aye, my lord.”

118“No time even to say how’d ye do to you, Mr. Gerard,” said Barbara, as Hornblower led her away to the main chains.

119Barbara had no hoops in her skirts; she knew enough about shipboard breezes to dispense with those. Hornblower dropped down into the sternsheets of the barge, and a growl from the coxswain at the tiller turned the eyes of the boat’s crew to seaward so that they would see nothing they should not see, while Knyvett and Gerard swung Barbara down into Hornblower’s arms in a flurry of petticoats.

120“Give way!”

121The barge surged away from the ship’s side, over the blue water, towards the Admiralty House pier, with Barbara and Hornblower hand in hand in the sternsheets.

122“Delightful, dear,” said Barbara, looking about her when she landed. “A commander-in-chief’s life is spent in pleasant places.”

123Pleasant enough, thought Hornblower, except for yellow fever and pirates and international crises and temperamental marines awaiting trial, but this was not the time to mention such things. Evans, hobbling on his wooden leg, was at the pier to greet them, and Hornblower could see that he was Barbara’s slave from the first moment that he was presented to her.

124“You must take me round the gardens the first moment I’m free,” said Barbara.

125“Yes, your ladyship. Of course, your ladyship.”

126They walked slowly up to the house; here it was a delicate business to show Barbara round and to present the staff to her, for Admiralty House was run along lines laid down at the Admiralty; to alter a stick of furniture or to change the status of any of the naval ratings working there was something Barbara would not be able to do. She was only a tolerated visitor there, and barely tolerated at that. She would certainly itch to change the furniture about and to reorganize the staff, but she was doomed to frustration.

127“It seems to be as well, darling,” said Barbara with a twinkle, “that my stay here is to be short. How short?”

128“Until Ransome arrives in Triton,” answered Hornblower. “You should know that, dear, considering how much gossip you picked up from Lady Exmouth and the others.”

129“Yes, but it’s still confusing to me. When does your appointment end?”

130“It ended yesterday, legally. But my command continues until I am legally relieved of it by Ransome when he comes. Triton has made a long passage.”

131“And when Ransome comes?”

132“He takes over from me, and of course moves into this house. His Excellency has invited us to be his guests at Government House until we sail for home, dear.”

133“I see. And if Ransome is so late that we miss the packet?”

134“Then we wait for the next. I hope not. It would be uncomfortable.”

135“Is Government House as bad as that?”

136“Its tolerable, dear. But I was thinking of Ransome. No new commander-in-chief wants to have his predecessor staying on.”

137“Criticizing all his actions, of course. Is that what you’d do, dear?”

138“I wouldn’t be human if I did not.”

139“And I know so well you’re human, dear,” said Barbara, putting out her hands to him. They were in the bedroom now, out of sight of servants and staff, and they could be human for a few precious moments, until a thunderous knock at the door heralded the arrival of Gerard and the baggage, and on his heels came Spendlove with a note for Barbara.

140“A note of welcome from Her Excellency, dear,” explained Barbara when she had read it. “We are commanded to dinner en famille.”

141“No more than I expected,” said Hornblower, and then, looking round to see that Spendlove had withdrawn, “No more than I feared.”

142Barbara smiled into his eyes conspiratorially.

143“A time will come,” she said.

144There was so much to talk about, so much news to be exchanged; the long, long letters that had passed between them during their three years’ separation needed amplification and explanation, and in any case Barbara had been five weeks at sea without news. Late on the second day, while they were dining alone together, a mention of Hudnutt came into the conversation. Hornblower explained the situation briefly.

145“You’re going to court-martial him?” asked Barbara.

146“Likely enough, when I can convene a court.”

147“And what will the verdict be?”

148“Guilty, of course. There’s no doubt about it.”

149“I don’t mean the verdict. I mean the sentence. What will that be?” Barbara was entitled to ask questions like this, and even to express an opinion regarding her husband’s performance of his official duties, now that he had let slip a mention of the subject to her.

150Hornblower quoted from the Articles of War, which had regulated his official life for nearly thirty years.

151“Every person so offending, being convicted thereof by the sentence of the court-martial, shall suffer death, or such less punishment as from the nature and degree of the offence the court-martial shall deem him to deserve.”

152“You don’t mean that, dear?” Barbara’s grey eyes opened wide across the little table from him. “Death? But you said ‘such less punishment.’ What could that be?”

153“Flogging round the fleet. Five hundred lashes.”

154“Five hundred lashes? For playing B natural instead of B flat?”

155That was exactly what one might expect a woman to say.

156“Dear, that’s not the charge. The charge is wilful disobedience to orders.”

157“But it’s such a trifling matter.”

158“Dear, disobedience to orders can never be a trifling matter.”

159“Would you flog a man to death because he won’t play a B flat? What a bloodthirsty way to balance the account!”

160“There’s no thought of balancing accounts, dear. Punishment is inflicted to deter other men from disobeying orders. It’s not revenge.”

161But womanlike, Barbara clung to her position, however much her flank might be turned by cold logic.

162“But if you hang him—or if you flog him, I expect—he’ll never play another B natural again. What good does that do?”

163“It’s the good of the service, dear—”

164Hornblower, on his part, was holding a position which he knew to be not quite tenable, but Barbara’s vehemence was causing him to grow heated in defence of his beloved service.

165“They’ll hear about this in England,” said Barbara, and then a new thought struck her. “He can appeal, of course—can’t he?”

166“In home waters he could. But I am a commander-in-chief in a foreign station, and from my decision there is no appeal.”

167It was a sobering speech. Barbara gazed across the table at this man, changed suddenly from her tender, loving, sensitive husband into a potentate who held the power of life and death. And she knew that she could not, she must not, exploit her privileged position as wife to influence his decision. Not because of the good of the service, but for the sake of their married happiness.

168“And the trial will be soon?” she asked; the change in her was apparent in her tone.

169“The moment I can convene a court. Delay in matters of discipline defeats its own object. If a man were to mutiny on Monday he should be tried on Tuesday and hanged on Wednesday. But there are not enough captains available. Triton’s captain, when Ransome arrives, would give the necessary number, but then I shall be relieved of command and the matter will be out of my hands. But if Flora should come in before that—I detached her to the Gulf Coast—I shall be responsible.”

170“I see, dear,” said Barbara, not taking her eyes from his face. Even before he spoke again she was aware that there was something which would modify the harshness of what he had said so far.

171“Naturally I have not made up my mind yet, dear,” he said. “But there is a further possibility which I’m considering.”

172“Yes?” She could hardly breathe the word.

173“The confirmation of the finding and the sentence would be the last act of my command. That would present an excuse—a reason. I could commute the sentence as an act of clemency in recognition of the good behaviour of the squadron during the period I have commanded it.”

174“I see, dear. And if Ransome arrives before Flora?”

175“I can do nothing, except—”

176“Except—?”

177“I could suggest to Ransome that he might begin his command with an act of clemency.”

178“And would he?”

179“I know very little about Ransome, dear. I simply cannot say.”

180Barbara opened her mouth to speak. She was going to say, “Will he think a B flat more important than a man’s life?” but she changed her speech in the nick of time. Instead she said the other thing that had also, and longer, been hovering on her lips.

181“I love you, darling,” she said.

182Again their eyes met across the table, and Hornblower felt his passion flooding to meet hers like a union of two rushing rivers. He knew perfectly well that all he had said about discipline and examples had been of no effect in changing Barbara’s mind; a woman (even more than a man) convinced against her will was of the same opinion still. But Barbara had not said so; she had said something else—and something (as always) more appropriate to the occasion. And not by one single variation of tone, not by a hair’s breadth’s raising of an eyebrow, had she brought into the conversation the fact that he was tone deaf. A lesser woman would have used that as if it were a relevant argument in this matter. She knew of his tone deafness, and he knew she knew, and she knew that he knew; and so on ad infinitum, but there had never been any need for him to admit the defect or for her to admit her knowledge, and he loved her.

183Next morning he had to tell himself that the commander-in-chief in the West Indies, even if he were awaiting his relief, still had duties to do; even if his wife had newly joined him. But it was delightful to have Barbara walk down with him through the Admiralty House gardens to see him on his way as far as the wicket gate in the lofty dockyard palisade. It was a little unfortunate that at the moment Evans was unlocking the gate Hudnutt appeared on the other side of the palisade taking his exercise. He was marching up and down between a file of marines under command of a corporal, the guard in parade uniform with bayonets fixed, Hudnutt hatless as a prisoner under charges had to be.

184“Pris’ner an’ escort—halt!” bellowed the corporal at sight of his admiral. “Escort, present—arms!”

185Hornblower formally acknowledged the salute before turning to say good-bye to his wife.

186“Escort, sl-o-o-ope arms!” bellowed the corporal in marine fashion, as if the escort had been at the other side of the dockyard instead of two yards from him.

187“Is that the bandsman—Hudnutt—dear?” asked Barbara.

188“Yes,” said Hornblower.

189“Pris’ner an’ escort, by the right, quick—march!” bellowed the corporal, and the little group marched off. Barbara watched it go; she could look now that Hudnutt had his back to her and was unaware of it. Previously she had refrained from staring at the man who would soon be on trial for his life. The trim marine uniform could not conceal the gangling undeveloped body; and the sun shone on the fair hair.

190“He’s nothing more than a boy,” said Barbara.

191That could be another irrelevant fact if she wanted to argue with her husband regarding his duty. Seventeen or seventy, a man under orders must obey orders.

192“He’s not very old, dear,” agreed Hornblower.

193Then he kissed the cheek that Barbara held up to him—he was not at all sure if an admiral in uniform should kiss his wife good-bye in the presence of his staff, but Barbara had no doubts about it. He left her standing there by the gate chatting to Evans, looking round her at the lovely garden on the one side of the palisade and at the businesslike dockyard through the palings.

194The presence of his wife was delightful even though it meant greatly increased activities for him. The next two or three days involved considerable entertaining; island society wished to make the most of the fleeting presence of an admiral’s wife, a peeress, and of the bluest of blood in her own right. To Hornblower, regretfully contemplating the immediate end of his period in command, it was a little like the aristocrats during the French Revolution dancing before the summons to the guillotine, but Barbara seemed to enjoy it all, perhaps because she had just endured five very dull weeks at sea and was facing the prospect of five more.

195“You danced a good deal with young Bonner, dear,” he remarked to her when they were home again after the Governor’s party.

196“He’s a very good dancer,” said Barbara.

197“He’s something of a villain, I believe,” countered Hornblower. “There’s never been anything proved, but much suspected—smuggling, slave running, and all the rest of it.”

198“He’s invited to Government House,” said Barbara.

199“Nothing proved, as I said. But in my official capacity I’ve often been interested in the activities of those fishing boats of his. You may find you’ve been dancing with a jailbird one of these days, dear.”

200“Jailbirds are more amusing than military secretaries,” smiled Barbara.

201Barbara’s activity was astonishing. Even after a night’s gaiety she went riding during the day, and Hornblower was content that she should, as long as there were young men available eager to act as Lady Hornblower’s escort, seeing that he had his duties to attend to and disliked horses in any case. It was even amusing to observe the transparent adoration which she received from everyone, from His Excellency, from the young men who rode with her, from Evans the gardener, from everyone she had anything to do with.

202Barbara was out riding one morning, before the heat of the day, when a messenger was brought in to Hornblower at Admiralty House.

203“Message from the cap’n, my lord. Triton’s signalled. She’s heading in with a fair wind.”

204Hornblower stared for a moment; although this was a message that might have come at any time during the last month, he was not ready for its full impact.

205“Very well. My compliments to the captain, and I’ll come down.”

206So this was the end of his three years as commander-in-chief. Ransome would take over command, possibly today, but certainly tomorrow, and he himself would be on half-pay and due to go home. A queer mixture of thoughts went through his mind as he made himself ready to meet Ransome: young Richard about to enter Eton; the thought of a freezing winter in Smallbridge; the auditing of his final accounts. It was not until he was on his way to his barge that he remembered that now he would be relieved of the necessity to come to a decision in the Hudnutt case.

207Triton wore no admiral’s flag, for Ransome legally held no command until he had taken over; the salutes at the moment merely acknowledged Triton’s joining the West Indian command. Ransome was a burly man with the heavy fashionable side whiskers, more grey than black. He wore the small decoration of Companion of the Bath, insignificant compared with Hornblower’s magnificent Grand Cross. Presumably if he survived this appointment without any great blunder he might hope for knighthood. He presented his captain, Coleman, with whom Hornblower was quite unacquainted, and then turned an attentive ear to Hornblower’s explanation of the arrangements made so far and of future plans.

208“I’ll assume command tomorrow,” decided Ransome.

209“That will allow time to arrange the full ceremonial,” agreed Hornblower. “In that case, sir, would you care to spend tonight at Government House? I understand a command there awaits you if you think it convenient.”

210“No need to move twice,” said Ransome. “I’ll spend tonight on board here.”

211“Admiralty House will be ready for you tomorrow, of course, sir. Perhaps you might like to give us the honour of your company at dinner today? There might perhaps be information that I could give you regarding the situation here.”

212Ransome shot a glance at Hornblower charged with a certain amount of suspicion; he did not wish to have any ready-made policies thrust upon him by his predecessor. Yet the suggestion was obviously sensible.

213“It would be a great pleasure. I must thank you, my lord.”

214Hornblower took a tactful step to allay that suspicion.

215“The packet in which my wife and I are taking passage to England is making ready for sea at present, sir. We sail in her, in a matter of a few days only.”

216“Very well, my lord,” said Ransome.

217“Then, having repeated my welcome, sir, I shall take my leave. Shall we expect you at four o’clock? Or would some other time be convenient?”

218“Four o’clock will suit me well,” said Ransome.

219The King is dead, long live the King, thought Hornblower, on his way back. Tomorrow he would be supplanted, and would become a mere half-pay officer. The splendour and dignity of a commander-in-chief would be transferred from him to Ransome. And he found the thought a little irksome; he had found his polite pose of deference to Ransome more than a little irksome; and he really thought Ransome could have been more polite in return. He gave vent to a good deal of this feeling as he told Barbara about the interview, and he checked himself at sight of Barbara’s amused twinkle and raised eyebrow.

220“You are the sweetest simpleton, my very dearest,” said Barbara. “Have you no idea at all of any possible explanation?”

221“None, I’m afraid,” said Hornblower.

222Barbara came up close to him and looked into his face.

223“No wonder that I love you,” she said. “Don’t you understand that no man could find it easy to replace Hornblower? Your period of command has been overwhelmingly successful. You’ve set a standard Ransome will find it hard to live up to. One might say he’s jealous, envious—and he showed it.”