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.
Hornblower and the Crisis
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.”
Baddlestone gobbled inarticulately for a second or two at this absence of a 'by your leave', but already the longboat had hooked on. At once it became obvious how violently the hoy rolled; the longboat was stable by comparison. There was a moment's delay before Meadows hauled himself on to the hoy's deck, and a further delay before Bush appeared behind him. Hornblower hurried forward to make them welcome; it was obvious that with the loss of the Hotspur her officers were being returned to England for other appointments, while presumably the crew had been distributed round the ships of the squadron.
It was only with an effort that Hornblower brought himself to address Meadows first.
“Glad to see you again, Captain Meadows,” he said. “And you too, Mr Bush.”
Bush had a half smile for him; Meadows not as much; he was under the shadow of a reprimand. Baddlestone watched the encounter with as much cynical amusement as his bulging red face could convey.
“Perhaps you gentlemen will be good enough to show me your warrants,” he said.
Bush thrust his hand into his breast pocket and produced a sheaf of papers.
“Fourteen if you count them,” he replied. “And these are ratings I'm not responsible for.”
“You'll be at pretty close quarters,” said Baddlestone. “Cabin food a guinea a day, or you can compound for three guineas for the passage.”
Meadows entered into the conversation not with a word, but with a gesture. He turned a bleak gaze and looked behind him. The warrant officers had begun to arrive on deck, Prowse the master, Cargill and the other mates, Huffnell the purser, the boatswain and sailmaker and carpenter and cooper and cook. They were followed by a number of ratings, one of them — who seemed likely to be Meadows' coxswain — turning to help another on board, the need for this becoming apparent when it was seen that this man had lost a hand at the wrist, presumably in one of the numerous shipboard accidents that eroded the crews of the blockading fleet. Several more men succeeded him; the reason
