Brown and the innkeeper exchanged glances, and then the innkeeper took the plunge.
Its like this, sir, he began, nervously. His Lordship is in number four just under this sitting-room, sir. His Lordships a man of hasty temper, sir, beggin your pardon, sir. He saysbeggin your pardon again, sirhe says that two in the mornings late enough for anyone to walk up and down over his head. He says
Two in the morning? demanded Hornblower.
Its nearer three, sir, interposed Brown, tactfully.
Yes, sir, it struck the half-hour just when he rang for me the second time. He says if only youd knock something over, or sing a song, it wouldnt be so bad. But just to hear you walking up and down, sirHis Lordship says it makes him think about death and Judgement Day. Its too regular, like. I told him who you was, sir, the first time he rang. And now
Hornblower had come to the surface by now, fully emerged from the wave of thought that had engulfed him. He saw the nervous gesticulations of the innkeeper, caught between the devil of this unknown Lordship downstairs and the deep sea of Captain Sir Horatio Hornblower upstairs, and he could not help smilingin fact it was only with an effort that he prevented himself from laughing outright. He could visualize the whole ludicrous business, the irascible unknown peer down below, the innkeeper terrified of offending one or other of his two wealthy and influential guests, and as a crowning complication Brown stubbornly refusing to allow until the last possible moment any intrusion upon his masters deliberations. Hornblower saw the obvious relief in the two mens faces when he smiled, and that really made him laugh this time. His temper had been short of late and Brown had expected an explosion, while the wretched innkeeper never expected anything elseinnkeepers never looked for anything better than tantrums from the people fate compelled them to entertain. Hornblower remembered damning Browns eyes without provocation only that very morning: Brown was not quite as clever as he might be, for this morning Hornblower had been fretting as an unemployed naval officer doomed to country life, while this evening he was a Commodore with a flotilla awaiting him and nothing in the
world could upset his temperBrown had not allowed for that.
My respects to His Lordship, he said. Tell him that the march of doom will cease from this moment. Brown, I shall go to bed.
The innkeeper fled in huge relief down the stairs, while Brown seized a candlestickthe candle in it was burned down to a stumpand lit his master through into the bedroom. Hornblower peeled off his coat with the epaulettes of heavy bullion, and Brown caught it just in time to save it falling to the floor. Shoes and shirt and trousers followed, and Hornblower pulled on the magnificent nightshirt which was laid out on the bed; a nightshirt of solid China silk, brocaded, with faggoting at the cuffs and neck, for which Barbara had sent a special order all the way to the East through her friends in the East India Company. The blanket-wrapped brick in the bed had cooled a good deal, but had diffused its warmth gratefully over much of the area; Hornblower snuggled down into its mild welcome.
Good night, sir, said Brown, and darkness rushed into the room from out of the corners as he extinguished the candle. Tumultuous dreams rushed with it. Whether asleep or awakenext morning Hornblower could not decide whichhis mind was turning over all through the rest of the night the endless implications of this coming campaign in the Baltic, where his life and his reputation and his self-respect would be once more at stake.
Chapter Four
Winds veering norard a little, he said. West-by-north now, I should say.
Yes, dear, said Barbara patiently.
I beg your pardon, dear, said Hornblower. I interrupted you. You were telling me about my shirts.
No. I had finished telling you about those, dear. What I was saying was that you must not let anyone unpack the flat sea-chest until the cold weather comes. Your sheepskin coat and your big fur cloak are in it, with plenty of camphor, and theyll be safe from moth just as they are. Have the chest put straight below when you go on board.
Yes, dear.
The coach was clattering over the cobbles of Upper Deal. Barbara stirred a little and took Hornblowers hand in hers again.
I dont like talking about furs, she said. I hopeoh, I hope so muchthat youll be back before the cold weather comes.
So do I, dear, said Hornblower, with perfect truth.
It was gloomy and dark inside the coach, but the light from the window shone on Barbaras face, illuminating it like a saints in church. The mouth beneath the keen aquiline nose was set firm; there was nothing soft about the grey-blue eyes. No one could tell from Lady Barbaras expression that her heart was breaking; but she had slipped off her glove, and her hand was twining feverishly in Hornblowers.
Come back to me, dear. Come back to me! said Barbara softly.
Of course I will, said Hornblower.
For all her patrician birth, for all her keen wit, for all her iron self-control, Barbara could say foolish things just like any blowsy wife of any ordinary seaman. It made Hornblower love her more dearly than ever that she should say pathetically come back to me as if he had power over the French or Russian cannon-balls that would be aimed at him. Yet in that moment a horrible thought shot up in Hornblowers mind, like a bloated corpse rising to the surface from the ooze at the bottom of the sea. Lady Barbara had seen a husband off to war once before, and he had not returned. He had died under the surgeons knife at Gibraltar after a splinter had torn open his groin in the battle of Rosas Bay. Was Barbara thinking of that dead husband now, at this moment? Hornblower shuddered a little at the thought, and Barbara, despite the close sympathy that always existed between them, misinterpreted the movement.