“Well, Captain?” asked Marsden.
“I'll do it,” said Hornblower.
He saw glances interchanged again; he could see relief, or perhaps satisfaction, or perhaps self congratulation in those glances. They were pleased that their bribe had been effective, and he was about to burst out in an indignant denial that the offer had had any weight with him. Then he shut his mouth again, remembering the philosopher who said that he had often regretted having spoken but had never regretted remaining silent. A few seconds of silence — utterly fortuitous — had won him promotion to post rank; a few seconds of speech might imperil it. And he knew, too, that these two cynical men would not believe any such protestations for a moment. His apparent bargaining may even have won their respect; certainly they would deem a denial to be hypocritical and worthy of contempt.
“Then I had better arrange for you to make Miranda's acquaintance, Captain,” said Marsden. “And I should be obliged if you would consider and elaborate a detailed plan for me to submit to His Lordship.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Orally, if you please. Nothing may be committed to paper regarding this plan, Captain. Except possibly you final report after achieving success.”
“I understand, sir.”
Was there the slightest hint of softening in Marsden's expression? That last sentence of his was undoubtedly meant as a joke; it was something entirely out of the ordinary. Hornblower had a sudden insight; the Secretary, in addition to all his routine work, carried a responsibility which must occasion him considerable anxiety. He had necessarily to deal (because transient First Lords and Sea Lords could not maintain the needed continuity) with all matters of this sort, the gathering of information, the dissemination on occasions of false information — with spying, in fact, to use a single and ugly word. Hornblower could see already now how difficult it must be to find reliable agents, men who could be trusted not to play a double role. Marsden was experiencing relief at this moment, to such an extent as actually to show it.
“I will make the arrangements for your posting to be gazetted, Captain.” This was Barrow, attending to details. “You will read yourself in before the end of the week.”
“Very well, sir.”
When Hornblower reached the street the rain was only falling softly although with every appearance of doing so for a long time. He had no cloak, no tarpaulin, but he went out into the rain quite gladly. He felt he must walk and walk and walk. The rain on his face was pleasant, and he told himself that the soft rainwater would dissolve out the clammy sea salt with which all his clothes were impregnated. The thought only distracted him for a moment from the others that were writhing in his brain like eels in a sack. He was about to become a captain at last, and he was about to become a spy.
* * *
C. S. Forester died before be could finish HORNBLOWER AND THE CRISIS, but from the notes that he left behind it is possible to see how the story would have ended.
Hornblower goes through a period of training in preparation for his spy mission. He brushes up his Spanish with a ruddy complexioned Count Miranda whom he is to accompany to Spain in the disguise of the Count's servant. 'He would have to watch every word and gesture, his life depended on doing nothing that would betray them.' Then Hornblower goes through a crisis of conscience about becoming a spy.
As he is rowed towards the ship that will take him from Spithead to Spain Hornblower thinks: One stage farther along a hateful voyage. Each stroke of the boatman's oars was carrying him nearer to a time of frightful strain; to something close to a certainty of a shameful and hideous death . . .
He wonders whether to turn back, but sense of duty prevails.
Forged letters are delivered to Villeneuve which prompts the Frenchman to come out and fight. This is what Nelson wants.
It leads to the victory at Trafalgar. The course of history is changed.
