12 Hornblower and the Crisis

fierce. There was likely at the same time to be a disturbing back eddy inside the rocks which could upset all calculations so that the current might reverse itself in a cable’s length. From the Black Rock extended a long reef to the southeastward where, except at the very tip, breakers were only visible at low water of spring tides and the lead gave no warning of this. It would be in no way remarkable for a ship keeping close up to the Goulet to be trapped here.

“Thank you, Captain,” said the President when Hornblower had finished, and he glanced over to the defendants, “Have you any questions?”

The President’s manner indicated that he thought none could be needed, but Meadows rose to his feet. He seemed to be wasted away; perhaps the borrowed clothes he was wearing contributed to the effect, but he was hollow-eyed and his cheeks seemed sunken, the left one twitching at intervals.

“Captain,” he asked. “The wind was northeasterly and brisk?”

“It was.”

“The best conditions for a sortie by the French?”

“Yes.”

“What was Hotspur‘s proper station in those conditions?”

“As close up to the Goulet as possible.”

It was a good point that had needed accentuation.

“Thank you, Captain,” said Meadows, sitting down, and Hornblower looked to the President for permission to retire.

But Meadows’ question had given rise to another.

“Would you kindly tell the Court, Captain,” asked the President, “how long you commanded the Hotspur on blockade service?”

“A little over two years, sir.” That was the literal answer that had to be given.

“And how much of that time were you close up to the Goulet? A rough estimate is all that is needed, Captain.”

“I suppose half the time — one third of the time.”

“Thank you, Captain.” It was a point tending very much to discount the one Meadows had made. “You may now retire, Captain Hornblower.”

He could glance over at Bush and the others, but it had to be a glance of complete indifference; he must not prejudice the Court by a display of sympathy. He made his bow and withdrew.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was less than half an hour after Hornblower returned to the Princess that Baddlestone got the news, passed from one auxiliary to another as they wallowed waiting for a wind.

“Guilty,” said Baddlestone, turning to Hornblower.

This was one of the moments when Hornblower was most in need of an appearance of stolidity while finding the greatest difficulty in attaining it.

“What about the sentence?” he asked. Tension gave his voice a grating sound which might be interpreted as harsh indifference.

“Reprimand,” said Baddlestone, and Hornblower felt the relief flooding into his vitals.

“What kind of a reprimand?”

“Just a reprimand.”

Not a severe reprimand, then. After a ‘guilty’ verdict it was the mildest sentence a court martial could pronounce, save for mere admonishment. But with Hotspur lost every officer and warrant officer in the ship would have to apply for re-employment, and the powers that were might still have a word to say. Unless they were vindictive, however, there could be little danger to any of them except possibly Meadows. It was only then that Baddlestone doled out another fragment of information which earlier would have saved Hornblower anxiety.

“They cleared the first lieutenant and the sailing master,” he said; Hornblower kept his mouth shut, determined to give no hint of his feelings.

Baddlestone had the telescope to his eye and Hornblower followed his gaze. A ship’s longboat under two balance-lugs was running before the wind in their general direction, it took no more than a glance for Hornblower to identify her as belonging to a ship of the line, and as far as he could judge from her fore-shortened length she was of the largest size, belonging to a three decker, likely enough.

“I’ll lay guineas to shillings,” said Baddlestone, the telescope still clamped to his eye, “more company.”

Hornblower’s fingers fluttered with the yearning to use the telescope.

“Yes,” went on Baddlestone, retaining it with a cruelty possibly unconscious. “It looks like it.”

He turned to bellow orders for the hanging of fendoffs on the starboard side, and to bring the hoy to the wind to provide a slight lee on that side. Then there was no need for the telescope; Hornblower with the naked eye could recognize Bush sitting bare-headed in the sternsheets, and then Meadows beside him. On the next thwart forward were the warrant officers of the late Hotspur, and forward beyond those was a jumble of figures he could not identify.

The longboat surged round into the-wind and came neatly alongside.

“Boat ahoy!” hailed Baddlestone.

“Party with warrants for passage,” came Bush’s voice in reply. “We’re coming aboard.”