He whipped out his sword from its scabbard, and the blade reflected the red fire as he thrust it menacingly at the stroke oar's throat. With a kind of sob, stroke tugged at his oar and the boat leaped forward.
'Lay us under her counter.' said Foster. 'I'll jump for it.'
At last Hornblower found his tongue. 'Let me go, sir. I'll handle her.'
'Come with me, if you like,' replied Foster. 'It may need two of us.'
His nickname of Dreadnought Foster may have had its origin in the name of his ship, but it was appropriate enough in all circumstances. Harvey swung the boat under the fire ship's stern; she was before the wind again now, and just gathering way, just heading down upon the Santa Barbara .
For a moment Hornblower was the nearest man in the boat to the brig and there was no time to be lost. He stood up on the thwart and jumped; his hands gripped something, and with a kick and a struggle he dragged his ungainly body up onto the deck. With the brig before the wind, the flames were blown forward; right aft here it was merely frightfully hot, but Hornblower's ears were filled with the roar of the flames and the crackling and banging of the burning wood. He stepped forward to the wheel and seized the spokes, the wheel was lashed with a loop of line, and as he cast this off and took hold of the wheel again he could feel the rudder below him bite into the water. He flung his weight on the spoke and spun the wheel over. The brig was about to collide; with the Santa Barbara , starboard bow to starboard bow, and the flames lit an anxious gesticulating crowd on the Santa Barbara 's forecastle.
'Hard over!' roared Foster's voice in Hornblower's ear.
'Hard over it is!' said Hornblower, and the brig answered her wheel at that moment, and her bow turned away, avoiding the collision.
An immense fountain of flame poured out from the hatchway abaft the mainmast, setting mast and rigging ablaze, and at the same time a flaw of wind blew a wave of flame aft. Some instinct made Hornblower while holding the wheel with one hand snatch out his neckcloth with the other and bury his face in it. The flame whirled round him and was gone again. But the distractions had been dangerous; the brig had continued to turn under full helm, and now her stern was swinging in to bump against the Santa Barbara 's bow. Hornblower desperately spun the wheel over the other way. The flames had driven Foster aft to the taffrail, but now he returned.
'Hard-a-lee!'
The brig was already responding. Her starboard quarter bumped the Santa Barbara in the waist, and then bumped clear.
'Midships!' shouted Foster.
At a distance of only two or three yards the fire ship passed on down the Santa Barbara 's side; an anxious group ran along her gangways keeping up with her as she did so. On the quarterdeck another group stood by with a spar to boom the fire ship off; Hornblower saw them out of the tail of his eye as they went by. Now they were clear.
'There's the Dauntless on the port bow,' said Foster. 'Keep her clear.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
The din of the fire was tremendous; it could hardly be believed that on this little area of deck it was still possible to breathe and live. Hornblower felt the appalling heat on his hands and face. Both masts were immense pyramids of flame.
'Starboard a point,' said Foster. 'We'll lay her aground on the shoal by the Neutral Ground.'
'Starboard a point,' responded Hornblower.
He was being borne along on a wave of the highest exaltation; the roar of the fire was intoxicating, and he knew not a moment's fear. Then the whole deck only a yard or two forward of the wheel opened up in flame. Fire spouted out of the gaping seams and the heat was utterly unbearable, and the fire moved rapidly aft as the seams gaped progressively backward.
Hornblower felt for the loopline to lash the wheel, but before he could do so the wheel spun idly under
'Then there's no damage done. But a bold endeavour. Whoever would have credited the Dons with making such an attempt?'
'They have learned about fire ships from us, perhaps, sir,' suggested Hornblower.
'We may have "nursed the pinion that impelled the steel," you think?'
'It is possible, sir.'
Foster was a cool enough customer, quoting poetry and discussing the naval situation while being carried off into captivity by a Spaniard who guarded him with a drawn knife. Cool might be a too accurate adjective; Hornblower was shivering in his wet clothes as the chill night air blew over him, and he felt weak and feeble after all the excitement and exertions of the day.
'Boat ahoy!' came a hail across the water; there was a dark nucleus in the night over there. The Spaniard in the sternsheets instantly dragged the tiller over, heading the boat directly away from it, while the two at the oars redoubled their exertions.
'Guard boat' said Foster, but cut his explanation short at a further threat from the knife.
Of course there would be a boat rowing guard at this northern end of the anchorage; they might have thought of it.