It was an extremely polite dismissal of the other four, whom Collins led away to receive their orders, leaving Hornblower face to face with Cornwallis. Cornwallis’s blue eyes, as far as Hornblower knew, were always kindly, but apart from that they were generally remarkably expressionless. As an exception, this time they had an amused twinkle.
“You’ve never made a penny of prize money in your life, have you Hornblower?” asked Cornwallis.
“No, sir.”
“It seems likely enough that you will make several pennies now.”
“You expect the Dons to fight, sir?”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Only a fool would think otherwise, and you’re no fool, Hornblower.”
An ingratiating man would say “Thank you, sir,” to that speech, but Hornblower would do nothing to ingratiate himself.
“Can we fight Spain as well as France, sir?”
“I think we can. Are you more interested in the war than in prize money, Hornblower?”
“Of course, sir.”
Collins was back in the cabin again, listening to the conversation.
“You’ve done well in the war so far, Hornblower,” said Cornwallis. “You’re on the way towards making a name for yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.” He could say that this time, because a name was nothing.
“You have no interest at Court, I understand? No friends in the Cabinet? Or in the Admiralty?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s a long, long step from Commander to Captain, Hornblower.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve no young gentlemen with you in Hotspur, either.”
“No, sir.”
Practically every captain in the Navy had several boys of good family on board, rated as volunteers or as servants, learning to be sea officers. Most families had a younger son to be disposed of, and this was as good a way as any. Accepting such a charge was profitable to the captain in many ways, but particularly because by conferring such a favour he could expect some reciprocal favour from the family. A captain could even make a monetary profit, and frequently did, by appropriating the volunteer’s meagre pay and doling out pocket money instead.
“Why not?” asked Cornwallis.
“When we were commissioned I was sent four volunteers from the Naval Academy, sir. And since then I have not had time.”
The main reason why young gentlemen from the Naval Academy — King’s Letter Boys — were detested by captains was because of this very matter; their presence cut down on the number of volunteers by whom the captain could benefit.
“You were unfortunate,” said Cornwallis.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excuse me, sir,” said Collins, breaking in on the conversation. “Here are your orders, captain, regarding your conduct in Cadiz. You will of course receive additional orders from Captain Moore.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cornwallis still had time for a moment more of gossip.
“You were fortunate the day Grasshopper was lost that that shell did not explode, were you not, Hornblower?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is quite unbelievable,” said Collins, adding his contribution to the conversation, “what a hot bed of gossip a fleet can be. The wildest tales are circulating regarding that shell.”
He was looking narrowly at Hornblower, and Hornblower looked straight back at him in defiance.
“You can’t hold me responsible for that, sir,” he said.
“Of course not,” interposed Cornwallis, soothingly. “Well, may good fortune always go with you, Hornblower.”
Chapter 20
Hornblower came back on board Hotspur in a positively cheerful state of mind. There was the imminent prospect of a hundred and fifty thousand pounds in prize money. That ought to satisfy Mrs Mason, and Hornblower found it possible not to dwell too long on the picture of Maria as chatelaine of a country estate. He could avoid that subject by thinking about the immediate future, a visit to Cadiz, a diplomatic contact, and then the adventure of intercepting a Spanish treasure fleet in the broad Atlantic. And if that were not sufficiently ample food for pleasant day dreams, he could recall his conversation with Cornwallis. A Commander-in-Chief in home waters had small power of promotion, but surely his recommendations might have weight. Perhaps — ?
Bush, with his hand to his hat, welcoming him aboard again, was not smiling. He was wearing a worried, anxious look.
“What is it, Mr Bush?” asked Hornblower.
“Something you won’t like, sir.”
Were his dreams to prove baseless? Had Hotspur sprung some incurable leak?
“What is it?” Hornblower bit back at the “damn you” that he nearly said.
“Your servant’s under arrest for mutiny, sir,” Hornblower could only stare as Bush went on. “He struck his superior officer.”
Hornblower could not show his astonishment or his distress. He kept his face set like stone.
“Signal from the Commodore, sir!” This was Foreman breaking in. “Our number. ‘Send boat’.”
“Acknowledge. Mr Orrock! Take the boat over at once.”
Moore in the Indefatigable had already hoisted the broad pendant that marked him as officer commanding a squadron. The frigates were still hove-to, clustered together. There were enough captains there to constitute a general court martial, with power to hang Doughty that very afternoon.
“Now, Mr Bush, come and tell me what you know about this.”
The starboard side of the quarter-deck was instantly vacated as Hornblower and Bush walked towards it. Private conversation was as possible there as anywhere in the little ship.
“As far as I can tell, sir,” said Bush, “it was like this —”
Taking stores on board at sea was a job for all hands, and even when they were on board there was still work for all hands, distributing the stores through the ship. Doughty, in the working-party in the waist, had demurred on being given an order by a bos’n’s mate, Mayne by name. Mayne had swung his ‘starter’, his length of knotted line that petty officers used on every necessary occasion — too frequently, in Hornblower’s judgement. And then Doughty had struck him. There were twenty witnesses, and if that were not enough, Mayne’s lip was cut against his teeth and blood poured down.
“Mayne’s always been something of a bully, sir,” said Bush. “But this —”
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
He knew the Twenty-Second Article of War by heart. The first half dealt with striking a superior officer; the second half with quarrelling and disobedience. And the first half ended with the words ‘shall suffer death’; there were no mitigating words like ‘or such less punishment’. Blood had been drawn and witnesses had seen it. Even so, some petty officers in the give and take of heavy labour on board ship might have dealt with the situation unofficially, but not Mayne.
“Where’s Doughty now?” he asked.
“In irons, sir.” That was the only possible answer.
“Orders from the Commodore, sir!” Orrock was hastening along the deck towards them, waving a sealed letter which Hornblower accepted.
Doughty could wait; orders could not. Hornblower thought of returning to his cabin to read them at leisure, but a captain had no leisure. As he broke the seal Bush and Orrock withdrew to give him what little privacy was possible when every idle eye in the ship was turned on him. The opening sentence was plain enough and definite enough.
‘Sir,
You are requested and required to proceed immediately in HM Sloop Hotspur under your command to the port of Cadiz.’
The second paragraph required him to execute at Cadiz the orders he had received from the Commander-in-Chief. The third and last paragraph named a rendezvous, a latitude and longitude as well as a distance and bearing from Cape St Vincent, and required him to proceed there ‘with the utmost expedition’ as soon as he carried out his orders for Cadiz.