lieutenants and the master and the surgeon and the purserseemed to be secretive and very much inclined to maintain a strict reserve about themselves. Within wide limits this was right and properBush was no frivolous chatterer himselfbut the silence was carried to excess when conversation was limited to half a dozen words, all strictly professional. There was much that Bush could have learned speedily about the ship and her crew if the other officers had been prepared to share with him the results of their experience and observations during the year they had been on board, but except for the single hint Bush had received from Hornblower when he came on board no one had uttered a word. If Bush had been given to Gothic flights of imagination he might have thought of himself as a ghost at sea with a company of ghosts, cut off from the world and from each other, ploughing across an endless sea to an unknown destination. As it was he could guess that the secretiveness of the wardroom was the result of the moods of the captain: and that brought him back abruptly to the thought that the wind was still freshening and a second reef was now necessary. He listened to the harping of the rigging, felt the heave of the deck under his feet, and shook his head regretfully. There was nothing for it.
Mr. Wellard, he said to the volunteer beside him. Go and tell the captain that I think another reef is necessary.
Aye aye, sir.
It was only a few seconds before Wellard was back on deck again.
Capns coming himself, sir.
Very good, said Bush.
He did not meet Wellards eyes as he said the meaningless words; he did not want Wellard to see how he took the news, nor did he want to see any expression that Wellards face might wear. Here came the captain, his shaggy long hair whipping in the wind and his hook nose turned this way and that as usual.
You want to take in another reef, Mr. Bush?
Yes, sir, said Bush, and waited for the cutting remark that he expected. It was a pleasant surprise that none was forthcoming. The captain seemed almost genial.
Very good, Mr. Bush. Call all hands.
The pipes shrilled along the decks.
All hands! All hands! All hands to reef topsls. All hands!
The men came pouring out; the cry of All hands brought out the officers from the wardroom and the cabins and the midshipmens berths, hastening with their stationbills in their pockets to make sure that the reorganised crew were properly at their stations. The captains orders pealed against the wind. Halliards and reef tackles were manned; the ship plunged and rolled over the grey sea under the grey sky so that a landsman might have wondered how a man could keep his footing on deck, far less venture aloft. Then in the midst of the evolution a young voice, soaring with excitement to a high treble, cut through the captains orders.
Vast hauling there! Vast hauling!
There was a piercing urgency about the order, and obediently the men ceased to pull. Then the captain bellowed from the poop:
Whos that countermanding my orders?
Its me, sirWellard.
The young volunteer faced aft and screamed into the wind to make himself heard. From his station aft Bush saw the captain advance to the poop rail; Bush could see he was shaking with rage, his nose pointing forward as though seeking a victim.
Youll be sorry, Mr. Wellard. Oh yes, youll be sorry.
Hornblower now made his appearance at Wellards side. He was green with seasickness, as he had been ever since the Renown left Plymouth Sound.
Theres a reef point caught in the reef tackle block, sirweather side, he hailed, and Bush, shifting his position, could see that this was so; if the men had continued to haul on the tackle, damage to the sail might easily have followed.
What dyou mean by coming between me and a man who disobeys me? shouted the captain. Its useless to try to screen him.
This is my station, sir, replied Hornblower. Mr. Wellard was doing his duty.
Conspiracy! replied the captain. You two are in collusion!
In the face of such an impossible statement Hornblower could only stand still, his white face turned towards the captain.
You go below, Mr. Wellard, roared the captain, when it was apparent that no reply would be forthcoming, and you too, Mr. Hornblower. Ill deal with you in a few minutes. You hear me? Go below! Ill teach you to conspire.
It was a direct order, and had to be obeyed. Hornblower and Wellard walked slowly aft: it was obvious that Hornblower was rigidly refraining from exchanging a glance with the midshipman, lest a fresh accusation of conspiracy should be hurled at him. They went below while the captain watched them. As
they disappeared down the companion the captain raised his big nose again.
Send a hand to clear that reef tackle! he ordered, in a tone as nearly normal as the wind permitted. Haul away!
The topsails had their second reef, and the men began to lay in off the yards. The captain stood by the poop rail looking over the ship as normal as any man could be expected to be.
Winds coming aft, he said to Buckland. Aloft there! Send a hand to bear those backstays abreast the topbrim. Hands to the weatherbraces. After guard! Haul in the weather main brace! Haul together, men! Well with the fore-yard! Well with the main yard! Belay every inch of that!