1Now it was blowing a gale, a two-reef gale from the westward. The unbelievably fine weather of the past week had come to an end, and now the Atlantic was asserting itself in its usual fashion. Under her close-reefed topsails Hotspur was battling against it, close-hauled on the port tack. She was presenting her port bow to the huge rollers that were advancing upon her, unimpeded in their passage over three thousand miles of water, from Canada to France. She would roll, lift, pitch, and then roll again. The tremendous pressure of the wind on her topsails steadied her to the extent that she hardly leaned over at all to windward; she would heel over to starboard, hang for a moment, and then come back to the vertical. But even with her roll restricted in this fashion, she was pitching extravagantly, and she was rising and falling bodily as each wave passed under her bottom, so that a man standing on her deck would feel the pressure of his feet on her planking increasing and diminishing as she ascended and dropped away again. The wind was shrieking in the rigging, and her fabric groaned as the varying strains worked on her, bending her lengthwise, upward in the centre first and then upward at the ends next. But that groaning was a reassuring sound; there were no sharp cracks or disorderly noises, and what could be heard was merely an indication that Hotspur was being flexible and sensible instead of being rigid and brittle.

2Hornblower came out on to the quarter-deck. He was pallid with sea-sickness because the change of motion had found him out, but the attack had not been as severe as he had experienced during the run down-channel. He was muffled in his coat, and he had to support himself against the roll, for his sea-legs had not yet learned this advanced lesson. Bush appeared from the waist, followed by the boatswain; he touched his hat and then turned, with Wise beside him, to survey the ship in searching fashion.

3‘It’s not until the first gale that you know what can carry away, sir,’ said Bush.

4Gear that seemed perfectly well secured would begin to show alarming tendencies to come adrift when submitted to the unpredictable strains of continued heavy weather, and Bush and Wise had just completed a long tour of inspection.

5‘Anything amiss? ’ asked Hornblower.

6‘Only trifles, sir, except for the stream anchor. That’s secure again now. ’

7Bush had a grin on his face and his eyes were dancing; obviously he enjoyed this change of climate, this bustling of the wind, and the activity it called for. He rubbed his hands and breathed deep of the gale. Hornblower could console himself with the memory that there had been times when he had enjoyed dirty weather, and even the hope that there would be more, but as he felt at present, he bitterly told himself, it was a hollow memory and an empty hope.

8Hornblower took his glass and looked about him. Momentarily the weather was fairly clear and the horizon at some distance. Far away on the starboard quarter the telescope picked up a flash of white; steadying himself as best he could he managed to catch it in the field again. That was the surf on Ar Men—curious Breton name, that—the most southerly and the most seaward of the rocks and reefs that littered the approaches to Brest. As he watched a fresh roller came in to catch the rock fully exposed. The surf burst upon it in a towering pillar of white water, reaching up as high as a first-rate’s maintopsails, before the wind hurled it into nothingness again. Then a fresh squall hurtled down upon the ship, bringing with it driving rain, so that the horizon closed in around them, and Hotspur became the centre of a tiny area of tossing grey sea, with the lowering clouds hardly clear of the mastheads.

9She was as close in to that lee shore as Hornblower dared risk. A timid man would have gone out farther to sea at the first sign of bad weather, but then a timid man would be likely next to find himself with a shift of wind far away to leeward of the post he was supposed to be watching. Then whole days might pass before he could be back at his post—days when that wind would be fair for the French to do whatever they wanted, unobserved. It was as if there were a line drawn on the chart along with the parallels of longitude—rashness on the one side, boldness on the other, and Hornblower keeping to the very boundary of rashness. Now there was nothing further to do except—as always in the navy—to watch and wait. To battle with the gale with a wary eye noting every shift in the wind, to struggle northward on one tack and then to go about and struggle southward on the other, beating up and down outside Brest until he had a chance to risk a closer view again. So he had done all day yesterday, and so he would do for countless days to come should the threatening war break out. He went back into his cabin to conceal another flurry of sea-sickness.

10Some time after the misery had in part subsided he was summoned by a thundering at the door.

11‘What is it? ’

12‘Lookout’s hailing from the masthead, sir. Mr Bush is calling him down. ’

13‘I’ll come. ’

14Hornblower emerged just in time to see the look-out transfer himself to the backstay and come sliding all the way down the deck.

15‘Mr Cargill,’ said Bush. ‘Send another hand aloft to take his place.’

16Bush turned to Hornblower.

17‘I couldn’t hear what this man was saying, sir, thanks to the wind, so I called him down. Well, what d’you have to say? ’

18The look-out stood cap in hand, a little abashed at confronting the officers.

19‘Don’t rightly know if it’s important, sir, but during that last clear spell I caught a glimpse of the French frigate. ’

20‘Where away? ’ demanded Hornblower; at the last moment before he spoke he had managed to modify his originally intended brusqueness. There was nothing to be gained and something to be lost by bullying this man.

21‘Two points on the lee bow, sir. She was hull-down but I could see her tops’ls, sir. I know ’em. ’

22Since the incident of the passing honours Hotspur had frequently sighted the Loire at various points in the Iroise channel—it had been a little like a game of hide-and-seek.

23‘What was her course? ’

24‘She was close-hauled, sir, under double-reefed tops’ls, on the starboard tack, sir. ’

25‘You were quite right to report her. Get back to your post now. Keep that other man aloft with you. ’

26‘Aye aye, sir. ’

27The man turned away and Hornblower gazed out to sea. Thick weather had closed round them again, and the horizon was close in. Was there anything odd about the Loire’s coming out and braving the gale? She might well wish to drill her men in heavy weather. No; he had to be honest in his thinking, and that was a rather un-French notion. There was a very marked tendency in the French navy to conserve material in a miserly fashion.

28Hornblower became aware that Bush was standing beside him waiting for him to speak.

29‘What do you think, Mr Bush? ’

30‘I expect she anchored last night in Berthon Bay, sir. ’

31‘I wouldn’t be surprised. ’

32Bush was referring to Bertheaume Bay, just on the seaward side of the Goulet, where it was just possible to ride to a long cable with the wind anywhere to the north of west. And if she lay there she would be in touch with the shore. She could receive news and orders sent overland from Brest, ten miles away. She might have heard of a declaration of war. She might be hoping to take Hotspur by surprise, and he must act on that assumption. In that case the safest thing to do would be to put the ship about. Heading south on the starboard tack he would have plenty of sea room, would be in no danger from a lee shore, and would be so far ahead of the Loire as to be able to laugh at pursuit. But—this was like Hamlet’s soliloquy, at the point where Hamlet says ‘There’s the rub’—he would be far from his post when Cornwallis should arrive, absent perhaps for days. No, this was a case where he must risk his ship. Hotspur was only a trifle in the clash of two enormous navies. She was important to him personally, but the information she had gleaned was a hundred times more important than her fabric to Cornwallis.

33‘We’ll hold our course, Mr Bush,’ said Hornblower.

34‘She was two points on our lee bow, sir,’ said Bush. ‘We ought to be well to windward of her when we meet.’

35Hornblower had already made that calculation; if the result had been different he would have put Hotspur about five minutes ago and would have been racing for safety.

36‘Clearing again a little, sir,’ commented Bush, looking about him, and at that very moment the masthead yelled again.

37‘There she is, sir! One point before the starboard beam! ’

38‘Very well! ’

39With the moderation of the squall it was just possible to carry on a conversation with the masthead from the deck.

40‘She’s there all right, sir,’ said Bush, training his glass.

41As Hotspur lifted to a wave Hornblower saw her topsails, not very plainly. They were braced sharp round, presenting only their edge to his telescope. Hotspur was at least four miles to windward of her.

42‘Look! She’s going about, sir! ’

43The topsails were broadening into oblongs; they wavered for a moment, and then settled down; they were braced round now parallel to the Hotspur’s topsails; the two ships were now on the same tack.

44‘She went about the moment she was sure who we were, sir. She’s still playing hide-and-seek with us. ’

45‘Hide-and-seek? Mr Bush, I believe we are at war. ’

46It was hard to make that momentous statement in the quiet conversational tone that a man of iron nerve would employ; Hornblower did his best. Bush had no such inhibitions. He stared at Hornblower and whistled. But he could follow now the same lines of thought as Hornblower had already traced.

47‘I think you’re right, sir. ’

48‘Thank you, Mr Bush. ’ Hornblower said that spitefully, to his instant regret. It was not fair to make Bush pay for the tensions his captain had been experiencing; nor was it in accord with Hornblower’s ideal of imperturbability to reveal that such tensions had existed. It was well that the next order to be given would most certainly distract Bush from any hurt he might feel.

49‘I think you had better send the hands to quarters, Mr Bush. Clear for action, but don’t run out the guns. ’

50‘Aye aye, sir! ’

51Bush’s grin revealed his instant excitement. Now he was bellowing his orders. The pipes were twittering through the ship. The marine drummer came scrambling up from below. He was a child of no more than twelve, and his equipment was all higgledy-piggledy. He made not only a slap-dash gesture of coming to attention on the quarter-deck, he quite omitted the formal drill of raising the drumsticks high before he began to beat the long roll, so anxious was he to begin.

52Prowse approached; as acting-master his station in battle was on the quarter-deck beside his captain.

53‘She’s broad on the starboard beam now, sir,’ he said, looking over at the Loire. ‘She took a long time to go about. That’s what you’d expect.’

54One of the factors that had entered into Hornblower’s calculations was the fact that Hotspur would be quicker in stays than the Loire. Bush came up, touching his hat.

55‘Ship cleared for action, sir. ’

56‘Thank you, Mr Bush. ’

57Now here was navy life epitomised in these few minutes. A moment of decision, of bustle, and excitement, and then—settle down to a long wait again. The two ships were thrashing along close-hauled, four miles apart. Hotspur almost dead to windward of the Loire. Those four miles, that direction of the wind, conferred immunity upon Hotspur. As long as she could preserve that distance she was safe. If she could not—if some accident occurred—then the Loire’s forty eighteen-pounders would make short work of her. She could fight for honour, but with no hope of victory. Clearing for action was hardly more than a gesture; men would die, men would be horribly mutilated, but the result would be the same as if Hotspur had tamely surrendered.

58‘Who’s at the wheel? ’ asked Prowse of nobody in particular, and he walked over to supervise the steering—perhaps his thoughts were running along those same lines.

59The boatswain came rolling aft; as the warrant officer charged with the general supervision of sails and rigging he had no particular station in action, and was justified in moving about. But he was being very formal at the moment. He took off his hat to Bush, instead of merely touching it, and stood holding it, his pigtail thumping his shoulders in the gale. He must be asking permission to speak.

60‘Sir,’ said Bush. ‘Mr Wise is asking on behalf of the hands, sir. Are we at war?’

61Yes? Or no?

62‘The Frogs know, and we don’t—yet, Mr Wise. ’ There was no harm in a captain admitting ignorance when the reason for it should be perfectly clear as soon as the hands had time to consider the matter, as they would have. This might be the time to make a resplendent speech, but second thoughts assured Hornblower it was not. Yet Hornblower’s instinct told him that the situation demanded something more than his last bald sentence.

63‘Any man in this ship who thinks there’s a different way of doing his duty in peacetime is likely to have his back scratched, Mr Wise. Say that to the hands. ’

64That was sufficient for the occasion; Prowse was back again, squinting up at the rigging and gauging the behaviour of the ship.

65‘Do you think she could carry the main-topmast stays’l, sir? ’

66That was a question with many implications, but there was only one answer.

67‘No,’ said Hornblower.

68That staysail might probably give Hotspur a little more speed through the water. But it would lay her over very considerably, which along the additional area exposed to the wind would increase her leeway by an appreciable proportion. Hornblower had seen Hotspur in dry dock, knew the lines of the turn of her bilge, and could estimate the maximum angle at which she could retain her grip on the water. Those two factors would balance out, and there was a third one to turn the scale—any increase in the amount of canvas exposed would increase the chances of something carrying away. A disaster, petty or great, from the parting of a line to the loss of a topmast, would thrust Hotspur helplessly within range of the enemy’s guns.

69‘If the wind moderates that’s the first extra canvas I’ll set,’ went on Hornblower to modify the brusqueness of his refusal, and he added, ‘Take note of how that ship bears from us.’

70‘I’ve done that, sir,’ answered Prowse; a good mark to Prowse.

71‘Mr Bush! You may dismiss the watch below. ’

72‘Aye aye, sir. ’

73This chase—this race—might continue for hours, even for days, and there was no purpose in fatiguing all hands prematurely. The gale developed a new gust within itself, hurling rain and spray across the deck; the Loire faded from sight again as he looked at her, while the Hotspur plunged and tossed like a toy boat as she battled against wind and wave.

74‘I wonder how many hands are sea-sick over there? ’ said Hornblower. He uttered that distasteful word in the same way that a man might tease a sore tooth.

75‘A good few, I dare say, sir,’ answered Bush in a completely neutral tone.

76‘Call me when she’s in sight again,’ said Hornblower. ‘Call me in any case of need, of course.’

77He said these words with enormous dignity. Then it was an exhausting physical exercise to struggle aft again back into his cabin; his dizziness exaggerated the leaping of the deck under his feet, and the swing of his cot as he sank groaning across it. It was Bush himself who roused him later on.

78‘Weather’s clearing, sir,’ came Bush’s voice through the cabin door, over the clamour of the storm.

79‘Very well. I’ll come. ’

80A shadowy shape was already visible to starboard when he came out, and soon the Loire was revealed sharply as the air cleared. There she was, lying steeply over, yards braced up, her gun-ports plain enough to be counted when she rose level again, spray bursting in clouds over her weather-bow, and then, as she lay over again, a momentary glimpse, pinky-brown, of her copper bottom. Hornblower’s eye told him something that Prowse and Bush put simultaneously into words.

81‘She’s head reaching on us! ’ said Bush.

82‘She’s a full point for’rard of the beam now,’ said Prowse.

83The Loire was going faster through the water than Hotspur, gaining in the race to that extent. Everyone knew that French ship designers were cleverer than English ones; French ships were usually faster. But in this particular case it might mean tragedy. But there was worse news than this.

84‘I think, sir,’ said Bush, slowly, as if each word caused him pain, ‘she’s weathering on us, too.’

85Bush meant that the Loire was not yielding to the same extent as the Hotspur to the thrust of the wind down to leeward; relatively Hotspur was drifting down upon the Loire, closer to her guns. Hornblower, with a twinge of apprehension, knew that he was right. It would only be a question of time, if the present weather conditions persisted, before the Loire could open her ports and commence fire. So the simplest way of keeping out of trouble was denied him. If Hotspur had been the faster and the more weatherly of the two he could have maintained any distance he chose. His first line of defence was broken through.

86‘It’s not to be wondered at,’ he said. He tried to speak coldly, or nonchalantly, determined to maintain his dignity as captain. ‘She’s twice our size.’

87Size was important when clawing to windward. The same waves battered against small ships as against big ones, but they would push the small ships farther to leeward; moreover the keels of big ships reached down farther below the surface, farther below the turbulence, and maintained a better hold in the more tranquil water.

88The three telescopes, as of one mind, trained out towards the Loire.

89‘She’s luffing up a little,’ said Bush.

90Hornblower could see the Loire’s topsails shiver momentarily. She was sacrificing some of her headway to gain a few yards to windward; having superior speed through the water she could afford to do so.

91‘Yes. We’ve drawn level with her again,’ said Prowse.

92That French captain knew his business. Mathematically, the best course to take when trying to close on a ship to windward was to keep the ship being chased right in the wind’s eye, and that was where the Hotspur now found herself again, relative to the Loire, while the latter, resuming her former course, close-hauled, was twenty or thirty yards nearer to her in the direction of the wind. A gain of twenty or thirty yards, repeated often enough, and added to the steady gain resulting from being the more weatherly ship, would eventually close the gap.

93The three telescopes came down from the three eyes, and Hornblower met the gaze of his two subordinates. They were looking to him to make the next move in this crisis.

94‘Call all hands, if you please, Mr Bush. I shall put the ship about. ’

95‘Aye aye, sir. ’

96Here was a moment of danger. If Hotspur were mishandled she was lost. If she missed stays—as she once had done with Cargill handling her—she would lie dead in the water for minutes, sagging down to leeward with the Loire coming up fast upon her, while in this gale the sails might thrash themselves to ribbons leaving her more helpless still, even if nothing more vital carried away. The operation must be carried out to perfection. Cargill by coincidence was officer of the watch. He could be given the task. So might Bush, or Prowse. But Hornblower knew perfectly well that he could not tolerate the thought of anyone other than himself bearing the responsibility, whether in his own eyes or in those of the ship’s company.

97‘I’m going to put the ship about, Mr Cargill,’ he said, and that fixed the responsibility irrevocably.

98He walked over [to] the wheel, and stared round him. He felt the tension, he felt the beating of his heart, and noticed with momentary astonishment that this was pleasurable, that he was enjoying this moment of danger. Then he forced himself to forget everything except the handling of the ship. The hands were at their stations; every eye was on him. The gale shrieked past his ears as he planted his feet firmly and watched the approaching seas. This was the moment.

99‘Handsomely, now,’ he growled to the hands at the wheel. ‘Put your wheel down.’

100There was a brief interval before Hotspur answered. Now her bow was turning.

101‘Helm’s alee! ’ shouted Hornblower.

102Headsail sheets and bowlines were handled, with Hornblower watching the behaviour of the ship like a tiger stalking its prey.

103‘Tacks and sheets! ’ and then turning back to the wheel. ‘Now! Hard over!’

104She was coming rapidly into the wind.

105‘Mains’l haul! ’ The hands were keyed up with the excitement of the moment. Bowlines and braces were cast off and the yards came ponderously round at the exact moment that Hotspur was pointing directly into the wind.

106‘Now! Meet her! Hard over! ’ snapped Hornblower to the wheel. Hotspur was turning fast, and still carrying so much way that the rudder could bite effectively, checking the swing before she could turn too far.

107‘Haul off all! ’

108The thing was done; Hotspur had gone from one tack to the other without the unnecessary loss of a second or a yard, thrashing along now with her starboard bow butting into the waves. But there was no time to feel relief or pleasure; Hornblower hurried to the port quarter to train his glass on the Loire. She was tacking naturally; the mathematics of the theory of the pursuit to windward demanded that the pursuer should tack at the same moment as the pursued. But she was bound to be a little late; her first inkling that Hotspur was about to tack would be when she saw her fore-topsail shiver, and even if Loire had all hands at their stations for going about the Hotspur would have two minutes’ grace. And she was far slower in stays. Even now, when Hotspur was settled on the new tack with every inch of sail drawing, the Loire’s fore-topsail was still shivering, her bows were still turning. The longer she took to go about the more distance she would lose in the race to windward.

109‘We’ve weathered on her, sir,’ said Prowse, watching through his glass. ‘Now we’re head reaching on her.’

110Hotspur had won back some of her precious lead, and Hornblower’s second line of defence was proving at least stronger than his first.

111‘Take the bearing again,’ ordered Hornblower.

112Once settled on the new tack the Loire’s natural advantages asserted themselves once more. She showed her extra speed and extra weatherliness; she drew up again from Hotspur’s quarter to her beam; then she could luff up briefly and gain a little more to windward on the Hotspur. The minutes passed like seconds, an hour like a minute, as the Hotspur plunged along, with every man braced on the heeling deck and the wind shrieking.

113‘Time to go about again, sir? ’ asked Bush, tentatively and greatly daring, but the theoretically correct moment was passing.

114‘We’ll wait a little longer,’ said Hornblower. ‘We’ll wait for that squall.’

115It was hurtling down wind upon them, and as it reached them the world was blotted out with driving rain. Hornblower turned from the hammock netting over which he was peering and climbed up the steep deck to the wheel. He took the speaking-trumpet.

116‘Stand by to go about. ’

117In the gusts that were blowing the crew could hardly hear what he said, but every eye was on him, everyone was alert, and, drilled as they were, they could not mistake his orders. It was a tricky business to tack while the squall prevailed, because the gusts were liable to veer a point or two, unpredictably. But the Hotspur was so handy—as long as the manoeuvre was well-timed—that she had a good deal to spare for emergencies. The slight change in the wind’s direction which threatened to take her aback was defeated because she still had sufficient steerage way and command to keep her swinging. The gust died away and the blinding chilly rain ceased while the hands were trimming all sharp, and the last of the squall drove off to leeward, still hiding the Loire from view.

118‘That’s done him! ’ said Bush with satisfaction. He was revelling in the mental picture of the Loire still thrashing along on the one tack while the Hotspur was comfortably on the other and the gap between the two ships widening rapidly.

119They watched the squall travelling over the foam-flecked grey water, shrieking towards France. Then in the thickness they saw a more solid nucleus take shape: they saw it grow sharper in outline.

120‘God—’ exclaimed Bush; he was too disconcerted, too dumb-founded, to finish the oath. For there was Loire emerging from the squall, comfortably on the same tack as Hotspur, plunging along in her relentless pursuit with the distance in no way diminished.

121‘That’s a trick we won’t try a second time,’ said Hornblower. He was forcing a smile, tight-lipped.

122The French captain was no fool, evidently. He had observed the Hotspur delaying past the best moment for tacking, he had seen the squall engulfing her, and had anticipated her action. He must have tacked at the very same moment. In consequence he had lost little while tacking, and that little had been regained by the time the two ships were in sight of each other once more. Certainly he was a dangerous enemy. He must be one of the more able captains that the French navy possessed. There were several who had distinguished themselves in the last war; true, in consequence of the overpowering British naval strength, most of them had ended the war as prisoners, but the Peace of Amiens had set them free.

123Hornblower turned away from Bush and Prowse and tried to pace the heeling deck, to think out all the implications. This was a dangerous situation, as dangerous as the worst he had envisaged. Inexorably wind and wave were forcing Hotspur closer to the Loire. Even as he tried to pace the deck he felt her shudder and lurch, out of the rhythm of her usual pitch and roll. That was the ‘rogue wave,’ generated by some unusual combination of wind and water, thumping against Hotspur’s weather side like a battering ram. Every few seconds rogue waves made themselves felt, checking Hotspur’s way and pushing her bodily to leeward; Loire was encountering exactly similar rogue waves, but with her greater size she was not so susceptible to their influence. They played their part along with the other forces of nature in closing the gap between the two ships.

124Supposing he were compelled to fight a close action? No, he had gone through that before. He had a good ship and well-trained crew, but on this tossing sea that advantage would be largely discounted by the fact that the Loire provided a steadier gun platform. Odds of four to one in weight of metal were greater than it was advisable to risk. Momentarily Hornblower saw himself appearing in the written history of the future. He might have the distinction of being the first British captain in the present war to fall a victim to the French navy. What a distinction! Then even in the cold gale blowing round him he could feel the blood hot under his skin as he pictured the action. Horrors presented themselves in endless succession to the crack of doom like the kings in Macbeth. He thought of death. He thought of mutilation, of agony under the surgeon’s knife, and of being wheeled about legless through a blank future. He thought of being a prisoner of war; he had experienced that already in Spain and only by a miracle he had achieved release. The last war had gone on for ten years; this one might do the same. Ten years in prison! Ten years during which his brother officers would be gaining fame, distinguishing themselves, making fortunes in prize money while he would fret himself to pieces in prison, emerging at the end a cranky eccentric, forgotten by all his world—forgotten even by Maria, he fancied. He would rather die, just as he would rather die than be mutilated; or so he thought (he told himself brutally) until the choice should be more imminently presented to him. Then he might well flinch, for he did not want to die. He tried to tell himself that he was not afraid of death, that he merely regretted the prospect of missing all the interesting and amusing things that life held in store for him, and then he found himself sneering at himself for not facing the horrid truth that he was afraid.

125Then he shook himself out of this black mood. He was in danger, and this was no time for morbid introspection. It was resolution and ingenuity that he demanded of himself. He tried to make his face a mask to hide his recent feelings as he met the gaze of Bush and Prowse.

126‘Mr Prowse,’ he said. ‘Bring your journal. Let’s look at the chart.’

127The rough log recorded every change of course, every hourly measurement of speed, and by its aid they could calculate—or guess at—the present position of the ship starting from her last point of departure at Ar Men.

128‘We’re making fully two points of leeway,’ said Prowse despondently. His long face seemed to grow longer and longer as he looked down at Hornblower seated at the chart-table. Hornblower shook his head.

129‘Not more than a point and a half. And the tide’s been making in our favour for the last two hours. ’

130‘I hope you’re right, sir,’ said Prowse.

131‘If I’m not,’ said Hornblower, working the parallel rulers, ‘we’ll have to make fresh plans.’

132Despondency for the sake of despondency irritated Hornblower when displayed by other people; he knew too much about it.

133‘In another two hours,’ said Prowse ‘The Frenchman’ll have us under his guns.’

134Hornblower looked fixedly at Prowse, and under that unwavering gaze Prowse was at length reminded of his omission, which he hastily remedied by belatedly adding the word ‘sir.’ Hornblower was not going to allow any deviation from discipline, not in any crisis whatever—he knew well enough how these things might develop in the future. Even if there might be no future. Having made his point there was no need to labour it.

135‘You can see we’ll weather Ushant,’ he said, looking down at the line he had pencilled on the chart.

136‘Maybe, sir,’ said Prowse.

137‘Comfortably,’ went on Hornblower.

138‘I wouldn’t say exactly comfortably, sir,’ demurred Prowse.

139‘The closer the better,’ said Hornblower. ‘But we can’t dictate that. We daren’t make an inch more of leeway.’

140He had thought more than once about that possibility, of weathering Ushant so close that Loire would not be able to hold her course. Then Hotspur would free herself from pursuit like a whale scraping off a barnacle against a rock; an amusing and ingenious idea, but not practicable as long as the wind stayed steady.

141‘But even if we weather Ushant, sir,’ persisted Prowse, ‘I don’t see how it will help us. We’ll be within range by then, sir.’

142Hornblower put down his pencil. He had been about to say ‘Perhaps you’d advise saving trouble by hauling down our colours this minute, Mr Prowse,’ but he remembered in time that such a mention of the possibility of surrender, even with a sarcastic intention, was contrary to the Articles of War. Instead he would penalise Prowse by revealing nothing of the plan he had in mind; and that would be just as well, in case the plan should fail and he should have to fall back on yet another line of defence.

143‘We’ll see when the time comes,’ he said, curtly, and rose from his chair. ‘We’re wanted on deck. By now it’ll be time to go about again.’

144On deck there was the wind blowing as hard as ever; there was the spray flying; there was the Loire, dead to leeward and luffing up to narrow the gap by a further important trifle. The hands were at work on the pumps; in these weather conditions the pumps had to be employed for half an hour every two hours to free the ship from the seawater which made its way on board through the straining seams.

145‘We’ll tack the ship, Mr Poole, as soon as the pumps suck. ’

146‘Aye aye, sir. ’

147Some way ahead lay Ushant and his plan to shake off the Loire, but before that he had to tack twice more at least, each time with its possibilities of making a mistake, of handing Hotspur and himself over to the enemy. He must not stumble over an obstacle at his feet through keeping his eyes on the horizon. He made himself perform the manoeuvre as neatly as ever, and made himself ignore any feelings of relief when it was completed.

148‘We gained a full cable’s length on him that time, sir,’ said Bush, after watching Loire steady herself on the starboard tack on Hotspur’s beam.

149‘We may not always be so lucky,’ said Hornblower. ‘But we’ll make this leg a short one and see.’

150On the starboard tack he was heading away from his objective; when they went about on the port tack again he must hold on for a considerably longer time, but he must make it appear as though by inadvertence. If he could deceive Bush it would be an indication that he was deceiving the French captain.

151The hands seemed to be actually enjoying this sailing contest. They were lighthearted, revelling in the business of cheating the wind and getting every inch of way out of the Hotspur. It must be quite obvious to them that Loire was gaining in the race, but they did not care; they were laughing and joking as they looked across at her. They had no conception of the danger of the situation, or, rather, they made light of it. The luck of the British navy would save them, or the unhandiness of the French. Or the skill of their captain—without faith in him they would be far more frightened.

152Time to go about again and beat towards Ushant. He resumed charge of the ship and turned her about. It was only after the turn was completed that he noted, with satisfaction, that he had forgotten his nervousness in the interest he was taking in the situation.

153‘We’re closing fast, sir,’ said Prowse, gloomy as ever. He had his sextant in his hand and had just finished measuring the angle subtended between the Loire’s masthead and her waterline.

154‘I can see that for myself, thank you, Mr Prowse,’ snapped Hornblower. For that matter the eye was as trustworthy as any instrumental observation on that heaving sea.

155‘My duty, sir,’ said Prowse.

156‘I’m glad to see you executing your duty, Mr Prowse,’ said Hornblower. The tone he used was the equivalent of saying, ‘Damn your duty,’ which would have also been contrary to the Articles of War.

157Northward the Hotspur held her steady course. A squall engulfed her, blinding her, while the quartermasters juggled desperately at the wheel, allowing her, perforce, to pay off in the worst of the gusts, and putting down the wheel to keep her to the wind when the wind backed a point. The final gust went by, flapping Hornblower’s coat-tails. It whipped the trouser-legs of the quartermasters at the wheel so that a momentary glance would make a stranger believe that, with their swaying arms and wavering legs, they were dancing some strange ritual dance. As ever, when the squall passed on, all eyes not dedicated to present duty turned to leeward to look for the Loire.

158‘Look at that! ’ yelled Bush. ‘Look at that, sir! We’ve fooled him properly!’

159Loire had gone about. There she was, just settling down on the starboard tack. The French captain had been too clever. He had decided that Hotspur would go about when concealed by the squall, and had moved to anticipate her. Hornblower watched the Loire. That French captain must be boiling with rage at having his too-great-cleverness revealed to his ship’s company in this fashion. That might cloud his judgement later. It might make him over-anxious. Even so, he showed little sign of it from here. He had been about to haul his bowlines, but he reached a rapid and sensible decision. To tack again would necessitate standing on for some time on his present course while his ship regained speed and manoeuvrability, so that instead he made use of the turning momentum she still possessed, put up his helm and completed the circle, wearing his ship round so that she momentarily presented her stern to the wind before arriving at last on her original tack again. It was a cool-headed piece of work, making the best of a bad job, but the Loire had lost a good deal of ground.

160‘Two full points abaft the beam,’ said Prowse.

161‘And he’s farther down to looard, too,’ supplemented Bush.

162The greatest gain, Hornblower decided, watching her, was that it made possible, and plausible, the long leg to the northward that his plan demanded. He could make a long beat on the port tack without the French captain seeing anything unusual in that.

163‘Keep her going, there! ’ he shouted to the wheel. ‘Let her fall off a little! Steady as you go!’

164The race was resumed, both ships plunging along, battling with the unremitting gale. Hornblower could see the wide angle from the vertical described by the Loire’s masts as she rolled; he could see her yards dipping towards the sea, and he could be sure that Hotspur was acting in the same way, rolling even a trifle more deeply, perhaps. So this very deck on which he stood was over at that fantastic angle too; he was proud of the fact that he was regaining his sea-legs so rapidly. He could stand balanced, one knee straight and rigid, the other considerably bent, while he leaned over against the heel, and then he could straighten with the roll almost as steadily as Bush could. And his sea-sickness was better as well—no; a pity he had let that subject return to his mind, for he had to struggle with a qualm the moment it did so.

165‘Making a long leg like this gives him a chance, sir,’ grumbled Prowse, juggling with telescope and sextant. ‘He’s drawing up on us fast.’

166‘We’re doing our best,’ answered Hornblower.

167His glass could reveal many details of the Loire now, as he concentrated upon her to distract himself from his sea-sickness. Then, as he was about to lower the glass to ease his eye he saw something new. The gun-ports along her weather side seemed to change their shape, and as he continued to look he saw, first from one gun-port and then from another and finally from the whole line, the muzzles of her guns come nosing their way out, as the invisible crews strained at the tackles to drag the ponderous weights up against the slope of the deck.

168‘She’s running out her guns, sir,’ said Bush, a little unnecessarily.

169‘Yes. ’

170There was no purpose in imitating her example yet. It would be the lee side guns that Hotspur would have to run out. They would increase her heel and render her by that much less weatherly. Lying over as she was she would probably take in water over the port-sills at the low point of her roll. Lastly, even at extreme elevation, they would nearly all the time be depressed by the heel below the horizontal, and would be useless, even with good timing on the part of the gun-captains, against a target at any distance.

171The look-outs at the fore-topmasthead were yelling something, and then one of them launched himself into the rigging and came running aft to the quarter-deck.

172‘Why don’t you use the backstay like a seaman? ’ demanded Bush, but Hornblower checked him.

173‘What is it? ’

174‘Land, sir,’ spluttered the seaman. He was wet to the skin with water streaming from every angle, whisked away by the wind as it dripped.

175‘Where away? ’

176‘On the lee bow, sir. ’

177‘How many points? ’

178He thought for a moment.

179‘A good four, sir. ’

180Hornblower looked across at Prowse.

181‘That’ll be Ushant, sir. We ought to weather it with plenty to spare. ’

182‘I want to be sure of that. You’d better go aloft, Mr Prowse. Make the best estimate you can. ’

183‘Aye aye, sir. ’

184It would not do Prowse any harm to make the tiring and exacting journey to the masthead.