His vivid imagination and absurd sensitiveness between them perhaps exaggerated part of the mens hardships. The thought of the promiscuity of life below decks, where a man was allotted eighteen inches width in which to swing his hammock, while his wife was allowed eighteen inches next to him, all in a long row, husbands, wives, and single men, appalled him. So did the thought of women having to live on the revolting lower deck food. Possibly he made insufficient allowance for the hardening effect of long habit.
He emerged through the fore hatchway on to the maindeck a little unexpectedly. Thompson, one of the captains of the forecastle, was dealing with the new hands.
Praps well make sailors of you, he was saying, and praps we wont. Overside with a shot at your feet, more likely, before we sight Ushant And a waste o good shot, too. Come on wi that pump, there. Lets see the colour o your hides, gaol-birds. When the cat gets at you well see the colour o your backbones, too, you
Enough of that, Thompson, roared Hornblower, furious.
In accordance with his standing orders the new hands were being treated to rid them of vermin. Naked and shivering, they were grouped about the deck. Two of them were having their heads shorn down to the bare skin; a dozen of them, who had already submitted to this treatment (and looking strangely sickly and out of place with the prison pallor still on them) were being herded by Thompson towards the wash-deck pump which a couple of grinning hands were working. Fright was making them shiver as much as coldnot one of them, probably, had ever had a bath before, and what with the prospect, and Thompsons bloodcurdling remarks and the strange surroundings, they were pitiful to see.
It enraged Hornblower, who somehow or other had never forgotten the misery of his early days at sea. Bullying was abhorrent to him like any other sort of wanton cruelty, and he had no sympathy whatever with the aim of so many of his brother officers, to break the spirit of the men under him. One of these days his professional reputation and his future might depend on these very men risking their lives cheerfully and willinglysacrificing them, if need beand he could not imagine cowed and broken-spirited men doing that. The shearing and the bath were necessary, if the ship was to be kept clear of the fleas and bugs and lice which could make life a misery on board, but he was not going to have his precious men cowed more than was unavoidable. It was curious that Hornblower, who never could believe himself to be a leader of men, would always lead rather than drive.
Under the pump with you, men, he said kindly, and when they still hesitatedWhen we get to sea youll see me under that pump, every morning at seven bells. Isnt that so, there?
Aye aye, sir, chorused the hands at the pumptheir captains strange habit of having cold seawater pumped over him every morning had been a source of much discussion on board the Lydia.
So under with you, and perhaps youll all be captains one of these days. You, there, Waites, show these others youre not
afraid. It was blessed good fortune that Hornblower was able not only to remember the name, but to recognise in his new guise Waites, the sheepstealer with the moleskin breeches. They blinked at this resplendent captain in his gold lace, whose tone was cheerful and whose dignity still admitted taking a daily bath. Waites steeled himself to dive under the spouting hose, and, gasping, rotated heroically under the cold water. Someone threw him a lump of holystone with which to scrub himself, while the others jostled for their turnthe poor fools were like sheep; it was only necessary to set one moving to make all the rest eager to follow.
Hornblower caught sight of a red angry welt across one white shoulder. He beckoned Thompson out of earshot. Youve been free with that starter of yours, Thompson, he said. Thompson grinned uneasily, fingering the two-foot length of rope knotted at the end, with which petty officers were universally accustomed to stimulate the activity of the men under them.
I wont have a petty officer in my ship, said Hornblower, who doesnt know when to use a starter and when not to. These men havent got their wits about em yet, and hitting em wont remedy it. Make another mistake like that, Thompson, and Ill disrate you. And then youll clean out the heads of this ship every day of this commission. Thatll do.
Thompson shrank away, abashed by the genuine anger which Hornblower displayed.
Keep your eye on him, Mr. Bush, if you please, added Hornblower. Sometimes a reprimand makes a petty officer take it out of the men more than ever to pay himself back. And I wont have it.
Aye aye, sir, said Bush, philosophically.
Hornblower was the only captain he had ever heard of who bothered his head about the use of starters. Starters were as much part of Navy life as bad food and eighteen inches per hammock and peril at sea. Bush could never understand Hornblowers disciplinary methods. He had been positively horrified when he had heard his captains public admission that he, too, had baths under the washdeck pumpit seemed madness for a captain to allow his men to guess that they were of the same flesh as his. But two years under Hornblowers command had taught him that Hornblowers strange ways sometimes attained surprising results. He was ready to obey him, loyally though blindly, resigned and yet admiring.