It was all very clear and logical, yet Hornblower found himself gulping nervously as he stood on the quarter-deck. It could only mean a hammer-and-tongs battlehe would be in the thick of it in an hour. This deck which he trod would be swept by the grapeshot of the Flame s carronades; within the hour he might be dead; within the hour he might be shrieking under the surgeons knife. Last night he had faced disaster, but this morning he was facing death. That warm glow which his bath had induced in him had vanished completely, so that he found himself on the point of shivering in the chill of the morning. He scowled at himself in frantic self-contempt, and forced himself to pace brightly and jerkily up and down the tiny quarter-deck. His memories were unmanning him, he told himself. The memory of Richard trotting beside him in the sunset, holding his finger in an unbreakable clutch; the memory of Barbara; the memory even of Smallbridge or of Bond Streethe did not want to be separated from these things, to leave the warm precincts of the cheerful day. He wanted to live, and soon he might die.
Flame had set more sailboom-mainsail and jibs; close-hauled she could fetch Honfleur without ever coming within range of the Porta Coeli s guns. Hornblowers fears withdrew into the background as his restless mind, despite itself, interested itself in the tactical aspects of the problem before it.
See that the hands have some breakfast, if you please, Mr. Freeman, he said. And it would be best if the guns were not run out yet.
Aye aye, sir.
It might be a long, hard battle, and the men should have their breakfast first. And running out the guns
would tell the people in Flame that the Porta Coeli expected a fight, and that would warn them that maybe their escape into French protection might not be easy. The more perfect the surprise, the greater the chance of an easy victory. Hornblower glowered at the Flame through his glass. He felt a dull, sullen rage against the mutineers who had caused all this trouble, whose mad action was imperilling his life. The sympathy he had felt towards them when he was seated in the safety of the Admiralty was replaced now by a fierce resentment. The villains deserved hangingthe thought changed his mood so that he could smile as he met Freemans eyes when the latter reported the brig cleared for action.
Very good, Mr. Freeman.
His eyes were dancing with excitement; he looked over at Flame again just as a fresh hail came from the masthead.
Deck, there! Theres a whole lot of small craft putting out from the beach, sir. Headin for Flame it looks like, sir.
The mutineers brig was going through the same performance as yesterday, heading towards the French coast just out of gunshot of the Porta Coeli, ready to take refuge sooner than fight; the mutineers must think the small craft a welcoming deputation, coming to escort them in. And there was thick weather liable to close in on them again at any moment. Flame was spilling the wind from her mainsail, her every action denoting increasing hesitation. Probably on her quarter-deck there was a heated argument going on, one party insisting on keeping out of range of the Porta Coeli while another hesitated before such an irrevocable action as going over to the French. Maybe there was another party clamouring to turn and fightthat was quite likely; and maybe even there was a party of the most timid or the least culpable who wished to surrender and trust to the mercy of a court martial. Certainly counsel would be divided. She was hauling on her sheet again now, on a straight course for Honfleur and the approaching gunboats; two miles of clear water separated her from the Porta Coeli.
Those gunboats are closing in on her, sir, said Freeman, glass to eye. And that chasse-marée luggers full of men. Christ! Theres a gun.
Someone in the Flame had fired a warning shot, perhaps to tell the French vessels to keep their distance until the debate on her deck had reached a conclusion. Then she wore round, as if suddenly realising the hostile intent of the French, and as she wore the small craft closed in on her, like hounds upon a deer. Half a dozen shots were fired, too ragged to be called a broadside. The gunboats were heading straight at her, their sweeps out, six a side, giving them additional speed and handiness. Smoke spouted from their bows, and over the water came the deep-toned heavy boom of the twenty-four-pounders they mounteda sound quite different from the higher-pitched, sharper bang of the Flame s carronades. The lugger ran alongside her, and through his glass Hornblower could see the boarders pouring onto the Flame s deck.
Ill have the guns run out, Mr. Freeman, if you please, he said.
The situation was developing with bewildering rapidityhe had foreseen nothing like this. There was desperate fighting ahead, but at least it would be against Frenchmen and not against Englishmen. He could see puffs of smoke on the Flame s decksome, at least, of the crew were offering resistance.