“Good-bye, Captain,” he said, proffering his hand. “A prosperous voyage in the Mediterranean to you.”
“Thank you, my lord. And a good passage to Bombay to you. And a successful and historic term of office.”
Hornblower stood weighing the purse — an embroidered canvas bag at which someone had laboured hard recently — in his hand. He felt the weight of the gold, and under his fingers he felt the crackle of the banknotes. He would have liked to treat it as prize money, and take his share under prize money rules, but he knew he could not accept that sort of reward from civilians. Still, his crew must show full appreciation.
“Mr Bush,” he said, as the boat shoved off. “Man the yards. Have the men give three cheers.”
Lord Eastlake and Captain Osborn acknowledged the compliment as they pulled away; Hornblower watched the boat creep back to the Lord Mornington. Four hundred guineas. It was a lot of money, but he was not going to be bought off with four hundred guineas. In that very moment he came to his decision after twenty-four hours of vacillation. He would display to the East India convoy the independence of Captain Hornblower.
“Mr Rayner,” he said. “Clear away the launch and the long-boat. Have the helm put up and run down to leeward of the convoy. I want those boats in the water by the time we reach them. Mr Bush. Mr Gerard. Your attention please.”
Amid the bustle and hurry of wearing the ship, and tailing on at the stay tackles, Hornblower gave his orders briefly. For once in his life Bush ventured to demur when he realised what Hornblower had in mind.
“They’re John Company’s ships, sir,” he said.
“I had myself fancied that such was the case,” said Homblower with elaborate irony. He knew perfectly well the risk he was running in taking men from ships of the East India Company — he would be both offending the most powerful corporation in England and contravening Admiralty orders. But he needed the men, needed them desperately, and the ships from whom he was taking them would sight no land until they reached St Helena. It would be three or four months before any protest could reach England, and six months before any censure could reach him in the Mediterranean. A crime six months old might not be prosecuted with extreme severity, and perhaps in six months’ time he would be dead.
“Give the boats’ crews pistols and cutlasses,” he said, “just to show that I’ll stand no nonsense. I want twenty men from each of those ships.”
“Twenty!” said Bush, gaping with admiration. This was flouting the law on the grand scale.
“Twenty from each. And mark you, I’ll have only white men. No Lascars. And able seamen every one of them, men who can hand, reef, and steer. And find out who their quarter gunners are and bring them. You can use some trained gunners, Gerard?”
“By God I can, sir.”
“Very good.”
Hornblower turned away. He had reached his decision unaided, and he did not want to discuss it further. The Sutherland had run down to the convoy. First the launch and then the cutter dropped into the water and pulled over to the clustered ships while the Sutherland dropped farther down to leeward to wait their return, hove to with main topsail to the mast. Through his glass Hornblower saw the flash of steel as Gerard with his boarding party ran up on to the deck of the Lord Mornington — he was displaying his armed force early so as to overawe any thought of resistance. Hornblower was in a fever of anxiety which he had to struggle hard to conceal. He shut his glass with a snap and began to pace the deck.
“Boat pulling towards us from Lord Mornington, sir,” said Rayner, who was as excited as his captain, and far more obviously.
“Very good,” said Hornblower with careful unconcern.
That was a comfort. If Osborn had given Gerard a point blank refusal, had called his men to arms and defied him, it might give rise to a nasty situation. A court of law might call it murder if someone got killed in a scuffle while illegal demands were being enforced. But he had counted on Osborn being taken completely by surprise when the boarding party ran on to his deck. He would be able to offer no real resistance. Now Hornblower’s calculations were proving correct; Osborn was sending a protest, and he was prepared to deal with any number of protests — especially as the rest of the convoy would wait on their Commodore’s example and could be relieved of their men while the protesting was going on.