Hornblower in the West Indies

So was Clorinda, but with a difference. Clorinda was a fighting ship, built to carry seventy tons of artillery, with forty tons of powder and shot in her magazines. It was no shame to her that she should be outsailed and outmanoeuvred by such a vessel as the Estrella.

“I fancy she’ll make for San Juan, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower.

Fell’s face bore an expression of helpless fury as he turned to his Admiral; it was with an obvious effort that he restrained himself from pouring out his rage, presumably in a torrent of blasphemy.

“It’s—it’s—” he spluttered.

“It’s enough to madden a saint,” said Hornblower.

Clorinda had been ideally stationed, twenty miles to windward of San Juan; Estrella had run practically into her arms, so to speak, and had yet dodged neatly round her and had won for herself a clear run to the port.

“I’ll see him damned, My Lord!” said Fell. “Quartermaster!”

There was now the long run ahead to San Juan, one point off the wind, in what was practically a race with an even start. Fell laid a course for San Juan; it was obvious that Estrella, comfortably out of range on the starboard beam, was heading for the same point. Both ships had the wind practically abeam; this long run would be a final test of the sailing qualities of the two ships, as though they were a couple of yachts completing a triangular course in a race in the Solent. Hornblower reminded himself that earlier this morning he had compared the present voyage with a yachting excursion. But the expression in Fell’s face showed that his flag-captain by no means looked on it in the same light. Fell was in the deadliest earnest, and not from any philanthropic feelings about slavery, either. It was the head money he wanted.

“About that breakfast, My Lord?” said Gerard.

An officer was touching his hat to Fell with the request that it might be considered noon.

“Make it so,” said Fell. The welcome cry of “Up spirits” rang through the ship.

“Breakfast, My Lord?” asked Gerard again.

“Let’s wait and see how we do on this course,” said Hornblower. He saw something of dismay in Gerard’s face and laughed. “It’s a question of your breakfast, I fancy, as well as mine. You’ve had nothing this morning?”

“No, My Lord.”

“I starve my young men, I see,” said Hornblower, looking from Gerard to Spendlove; but the latter’s expression was peculiarly unchanging, and Hornblower remembered all he knew about him. “I’ll wager a guinea that Spendlove hasn’t spent the morning fasting.”

The suggestion was answered by a wide grin.

“I am no sailor, My Lord,” said Spendlove. “But I have learned one thing while I have been at sea, and that is to snatch at any meal that makes its appearance. Fairy gold vanishes no faster than the opportunity of eating food at sea.”

“So, while your Admiral has been starving, you have been walking this deck with a full belly? Shame on you.”

“I feel that shame as deeply as the situation merits, My Lord.”

Spendlove obviously had all the tact that an Admiral’s secretary needed to have.

“Hands to the mainbrace,” bellowed Fell.

Clorinda was hurtling along over the blue sea with the wind abeam; it was her best point of sailing, and Fell was doing all he could to get the very best out of her. Hornblower looked over at Estrella.

“I fancy we’re falling behind,” he said.

“I think so, too, My Lord,” said Gerard after a glance in the same direction. He walked over and took a bearing, and Fell glared at him with irritation before turning to Hornblower.

“I hope you will agree, My Lord,” he said, “that Clorinda has done all a ship can do?”

“Certainly, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower. Fell real meant to say that no fault could be found with his handling the ship; and Hornblower, while convinced that he himself could have handled her better, had no doubt that in any case Estrella would have evaded capture.

“That schooner sails like a witch,” said Fell. “Look at her now, My Lord.”

Estrella’s lovely lines and magnificent sail plan were obvious even at this distance.

“She’s a beautiful vessel,” agreed Hornblower.

“She’s headreaching on us for sure,” announced Gerard from the binnacle. “And I think she’s weathering on us, too.”

“And there goes five hundred pounds,” said Fell, bitterly. Assuredly he was in need of money. “Quartermaster! Bear up a point. Hands to the braces!”

He brought Clorinda a little closer to the wind and studied her behaviour before turning back to Hornblower.

“I’ll not give up the chase until I’m compelled, My Lord,” he said.

“Quite right,” agreed Hornblower.

There was something of resignation, something of despair, in Fell’s expression. It was not only the thought of the lost money that troubled him, Hornblower realised. The report that Fell had tried to capture the Estrella, and had failed, almost ludicrously, would reach their Lordships of the Admiralty, of course. Even if Hornblower’s own report minimised the failure it would still be a failure. That meant that Fell would never be employed again after his present two years’ appointment had expired. For every captain with a command in the Royal Navy now there were twenty at least hungry for commands. The slightest lapse would be seized upon as reason for ending a man’s career; it could not be otherwise. Fell was now looking forward apprehensively to spending the rest of his life on half pay. And Lady Fell was an expensive and ambitious woman. No wonder that Fell’s usually red cheeks had a grey tinge.

The slight alteration of course Fell had ordered was really a final admission of defeat. Clorinda was retaining her windward position only at the cost of seeing Estrella draw more rapidly ahead.

“But I fear she’ll beat us easily into San Juan,” went on Fell with admirable stoicism. Right ahead the purple smear on the horizon that marked the hills of Puerto Rico was growing loftier and more defined. “What orders have you for me in that case, My Lord?”

“What water have you left on board?” asked Hornblower in return.

“Five tons, My Lord. Say six days at short allowance.”

“Six days,” repeated Hornblower, mostly to himself. It was a tiresome complication. The nearest British territory was a hundred miles to windward.

“I had to try the effect of lightening the ship, My Lord,” said Fell, self-exculpatory.

“I know, I know.” Hornblower always felt testy when someone tried to excuse himself. “Well, we’ll follow Estrella in if we don’t catch her first.”

“It will be an official visit, My Lord?” asked Gerard quickly.

“It can hardly be anything else with my flag flying,” said Hornblower. He took no pleasure in official visits. “We may as well kill two birds with one stone. It’s time I called on the Spanish authorities, and we can fill up with water at the same time.”

“Aye aye, My Lord.”

A visit of ceremony in a foreign port meant many calls on the activity of his staff—but not as many as on him, he told himself with irritation.

“I’ll have my breakfast before anything else comes to postpone it,” he said. The perfect good humour of the morning had quite evaporated now. He would be in a bad temper now if he allowed himself to indulge in the weaknesses of humanity.

When he came on deck again the failure to intercept Estrella was painfully obvious. The schooner was a full three miles ahead, and had weathered upon Clorinda until the latter lay almost in her wake. The coast of Puerto Rico was very well defined now. Estrella