“I see,” said Hornblower.
There was a burst of merriment from the head of the table, and the duchess was prodding the governor’s scarlet-coated ribs with the handle of her knife, as if to make sure he saw the joke.
“Maybe you will not lack for mirth on your homeward voyage,” said the aide-de-camp.
Just then a smoking sirloin of beef was put down in front of Hornblower, and all his other worries vanished before the necessity of carving it and remembering his manners. He took the carving knife and fork gingerly in his hands and glanced round at the company.
“May I help you to some of this beef, Your Grace? Madam? Sir? Well done or underdone, sir? A little of the brown fat?”
In the hot room the sweat ran down his face as he wrestled with the joint; he was fortunate that most of the guests desired helpings from the other removes so that he had little carving to do. He put a couple of haggled slices on his own plate as the simplest way of concealing the worst results of his own handiwork.
“Beef from Tetuan,” sniffed the aide-de-camp. “Tough and stringy.”
That was all very well for a governor’s aide-de-camp — he could not guess how delicious was this food to a young naval officer fresh from beating about at sea in an over-crowded frigate. Even the thought of having to act as host to a duchess could not entirely spoil Hornblower’s appetite. And the final dishes, the meringues and macaroons, the custards and the fruits, were ecstasy for a young man whose last pudding had been currant duff last Sunday.
“Those sweet things spoil a man’s palate,” said the aide-de-camp — much Hornblower cared.
They were drinking formal toasts now. Hornblower stood for the King and the royal family, and raised his glass for the duchess.
“And now for the enemy,” said Sir Hew, “may their treasure galleons try to cross the Atlantic.”
“A supplement to that, Sir Hew,” said the commodore at the other end, “may the Dons make up their minds to leave Cadiz.”
There was a growl almost like wild animals from round the table. Most of the naval officers present were from Jervis’ Mediterranean squadron which had beaten about in the Atlantic for the past several months hoping to catch the Spaniards should they come out. Jervis had to detach his ships to Gibraltar two at a time to replenish their stores, and these officers were from the two ships of the line present at the moment in Gibraltar.
“Johnny Jervis would say amen to that,” said Sir Hew. “A bumper to the Dons then, gentlemen, and may they come out from Cadiz.”
The ladies left them then, gathered together by Lady Dalrymple, and as soon as it was decently possible Hornblower made his excuses and slipped away, determined not to be heavy with wine the night before he sailed in independent command.
Maybe the prospect of the coming on board of the duchess was a useful counter-irritant, and saved Hornblower from worrying too much about his first command. He was up before dawn — before even the brief Mediterranean twilight had begun — to see that his precious ship was in condition to face the sea, and the enemies who swarmed upon the sea. He had four popgun four-pounders to deal with those enemies, which meant that he was safe from no one; his was the weakest vessel at sea, for the smallest trading brig carried a more powerful armament. So that like all weak creatures his only safety lay in flight — Hornblower looked aloft in the half-light, where the sails would be set on which so much might depend. He went over the watch bill with his two watch-keeping officers, Midshipman Hunter and Master’s Mate Winyatt, to make sure that every man of his crew of eleven knew his duty. Then all that remained was to put on his smartest seagoing uniform, try to eat breakfast, and wait for the duchess.
She came early, fortunately; Their Excellencies had had to rise at a most unpleasant hour to see her off. Mr Hunter reported the approach of the governor’s launch with suppressed excitement.
“Thank you, Mr Hunter,” said Hornblower coldly — that was what the service demanded, even though not so many weeks before they had been playing follow-my-leader through the Indefatigable‘s rigging together.
The launch swirled alongside, and two neatly dressed seamen hooked on the ladder. Le Reve had such a small freeboard that boarding her presented no problem even for ladies. The governor stepped on board to the twittering of the only two pipes Le Reve could muster, and Lady Dalrymple followed him. Then came the duchess, and the duchess’s companion; the latter was a younger woman, as beautiful as the duchess must once have been. A couple of aides-de-camp followed, and by that time the minute deck of Le Reve was positively crowded, so that there was no room left to bring up the duchess’s baggage.
“Let us show you your quarters, Your Grace,” said the governor.
Lady Dalrymple squawked her sympathy at sight of the minute cabin, which the two cots almost filled, and every one’s head, inevitably, bumped against the deck-beam above. “We shall live through it,” said the duchess stoically, “an’ that’s more than many a man makin’ a little trip to Tyburn could say.”
One of the aides-de-camp produced a last minute packet of despatches and demanded Hornblower’s signature on the receipt; the last farewells were said, and Sir Hew and Lady Dalrymple went down the side again to the twittering of the pipes.
“Man the windlass!” bellowed Hornblower the moment the launch’s crew bent to their oars.
A few seconds’ lusty work brought Le Reve up to her anchor.
“Anchor’s aweigh, sir,” reported Winyatt.
“Jib halliards!” shouted Hornblower. “Mains’l halliards!”
Le Reve came round before the wind as her sails were set and her rudder took a grip on the water. Everyone was so busy catting the anchor and setting sail that it was Hornblower himself who dipped his colours in salute as Le Reve crept out beyond the mole before the gentle south-easter, and dipped her nose to the first of the big Atlantic rollers coming in through the Gut. Through the skylight beside him he heard a clatter and a wail, as something fell in the cabin with that first roll, but he could spare no attention for the woman below. He had the glass to his eye now, training it first on Algeciras and then upon Tarifa — some well-manned privateer or ship of war might easily dash out to snap up such a defenceless prey as Le Reve. He could not relax while the forenoon watch wore on. They rounded Cape Marroqui and he set a course for St Vincent, and then the mountains of Southern Spain began to sink below the horizon. Cape Trafalgar was just visible on the starboard bow when at last he shut the telescope and began to wonder about dinner; it was pleasant to be captain of his own ship and to be able to order dinner when he chose. His aching legs told him he had been on his feet too long — eleven continuous hours; if the future brought him many independent commands he would wear himself out by this sort of behaviour.
Down below he relaxed gratefully on the locker, and sent the cook to knock at the duchess’s cabin door to ask with his compliments if all was well; he heard the duchess’s sharp voice saying that they needed nothing, not even dinner. Hornblower philosophically shrugged his shoulders and ate his dinner with a young man’s appetite. He went on deck again as night closed in upon them; Winyatt had the watch.
“It’s coming up thick, sir,” he said.
So it was. The sun was invisible on the horizon, engulfed in watery mist. It was the price he had to pay for a fair wind, he knew; in the winter months in these latitudes there was always likely to be fog where the cool land breeze reached the Atlantic.
“It’ll be thicker still by morning,” he said gloomily, and revised his night orders, setting a course due west instead of west by north as he originally intended. He wanted to make certain of keeping clear of Cape St Vincent in the event of fog.