'A 'appy Valentine's day to you,' said a voice beside him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise. He had actually forgotten the presence of the duchess on board.
'Stop that row!' he whispered furiously at her, and she pulled up abruptly in astonishment. She was bundled up in a cloak and hood against the damp air, and no further detail could be seen of her in the darkness and fog.
'May I hask—' she began.
'Shut up!' whispered Hornblower.
A harsh voice could be heard through the fog, other voices repeating the order, whistles being blown, much noise and bustle.
'That's Spanish, sir, isn't it?' whispered Hunter.
'Spanish for certain. Calling the watch. Listen!'
The two double-strokes of a ship's bell came to them across the water. Four bells in the morning watch. And instantly from all round them a dozen other bells could be heard, as if echoing the first.
'We're in the middle of a fleet, by God!' whispered Hunter.
'Big ships, too, sir,' supplemented Winyatt who had joined them with the calling of all hands. 'I could hear half a dozen different pipes when they called the watch.'
'The Dons are out, then,' said Hunter.
And the course I set has taken us into the midst of them, thought Hornblower bitterly. The coincidence was maddening, heartbreaking. But he forbore to waste breath over it. He even suppressed the frantic gibe that rose to his lips at the memory of Sir Hew's toast about the Spaniards coming out from Cadiz.
'They're setting more sail,' was what he said. 'Dagos snug down at night, just like some fat Indiaman. They only set their t'gallants at daybreak.'
All round them through the fog could be heard the whine of sheaves in blocks, the stamp-and-go of the men at the halliards, the sound of ropes thrown on decks, the chatter of a myriad voices.
'They make enough noise about it, blast 'em,' said Hunter.
The tension under which he laboured was apparent as he stood straining to peer through the mist.
'Please God they're on a different course to us,' said Winyatt, more sensibly. 'Then we'll soon be through 'em.'
'Not likely,' said Hornblower.
Le Rêve was running almost directly before what little wind there was; if the Spaniards were beating against it or had it on their beam they would be crossing her course at a considerable angle, so that the volume of sound from the nearest ship would have diminished or increased considerably in this time, and there was no indication of that whatever. It was far more likely that Le Rêve had overhauled the Spanish fleet under its nightly short canvas and had sailed forward into the middle of it. It was a problem what to do next in that case, to shorten sail, or to heave to, and let the Spaniards get ahead of them again, or to clap on sail to pass through. But the passage of the minutes brought clear proof that fleet and sloop were on practically the same course, as otherwise they could hardly fail to pass some ship close. As long as the mist held they were safest as they were.
But that was hardly to be expected with the coming of day.
'Can't we alter course, sir?' asked Winyatt.
'Wait,' said Hornblower.
In the faint growing light he had seen shreds of denser mist blowing past them — a clear indication that they could not hope for continuous fog. At that moment they ran out of a fog bank into a clear patch of water.
'There she is, by God!' said Hunter.
Both officers and seamen began to move about in sudden panic.
'Stand still, damn you!' rasped Hornblower, his nervous tension releasing itself in the fierce monosyllables.
Less than a cable's length away a three-decked ship of the line was standing along parallel to them on their starboard side. Ahead and on the port side could be seen the outlines, still shadowy, of other battleships. Nothing could save them if they drew attention to themselves; all that could be done was to keep going as if they had as much right there as the ships of the line. It was possible that in the happy-go-lucky Spanish navy the officer of the watch over there did not know that no sloop like Le Rêve was attached to the fleet — or even possibly by a miracle there might be one. Le Rêve was French built and French rigged, after all. Side by side Le Rêve and the battleship sailed over the lumpy sea. They were within pointblank range of fifty big guns, when one well-aimed shot would sink them. Hunter was uttering filthy curses under his breath, but discipline had asserted itself; a telescope over there on the Spaniard's deck would not discover any suspicious bustle on board the sloop. Another shred of fog drifted past them, and then they were deep in a fresh fog bank.
'Thank God!' said Hunter, indifferent to the contrast between this present piety and his preceding blasphemy.
'Hands wear ship,' said Hornblower. 'Lay her on the port tack.'
There was no need to tell the hands to do it quietly; they were as well aware of their danger as anyone. Le Rêve silently rounded-to, the sheets were hauled in and coiled down without a sound; and the sloop, as close to the wind as she would lie, heeled to the small wind, meeting the lumpy waves with her port bow.
'We'll be crossing their course now,' said Hornblower.
'Please God it'll be under their sterns and not their bows,' said Winyatt.
There was the duchess still in her cloak and hood, standing right aft as much out of the way as possible.
'Don't you think Your Grace had better go below?' asked Hornblower, making use by a great effort of the formal form of address.
'Oh, no, please,' said the duchess. 'I couldn't bear it.' Hornblower shrugged his shoulders, and promptly forgot the duchess's presence again as a new anxiety struck him. He dived below and came up again with the two big sealed envelopes of despatches. He took a belaying pin from the rail and began very carefully to tie the envelopes to the pin with a bit of line.
'Please,' said the duchess, 'please, Mr Hornblower, tell me what you are doing?'
'I want to make sure these will sink when I throw them overboard if we're captured,' said Hornblower grimly.
'Then they'll be lost for good?'
'Better that than that the Spaniards should read 'em,' said Hornblower with all the patience he could muster.
'I could look after them for you,' said the duchess. 'Indeed I could.'
Hornblower looked keenly at her.
'No,' he said, 'they might search your baggage. Probably they would.'
'Baggage!' said the duchess. 'As if I'd put them in my baggage! I'll put them next my skin — they won't search me in any case. They'll never find 'em, not if I put 'em up my petticoats.'
There was a brutal realism about those words that staggered Hornblower a little, but which also brought him to admit to himself that there was something in what the duchess was saying.
'If they capture us,' said the duchess, '—I pray they won't, but if they do — they'll never keep me prisoner. You know that. They'll send me to Lisbon or put me aboard a King's ship as soon as they can. Then the despatches will be delivered eventually. Late, but better late than never.'
'That's so,' mused Hornblower.
'I'll guard them like my life,' said the duchess. 'I swear I'll never part from them. I'll tell no one I have them, not until I hand them to a King's officer.'
She met Hornblower's eyes with transparent honesty in her expression.
'Fog's thinning, sir,' said Winyatt.
'Quick!' said the duchess.
There was no time for further debate. Hornblower slipped the envelopes from their binding of rope and handed them over to her, and replaced the belaying pin in the rail.