Hornblower proffered the suggestion that one of the two ships might push to the northward and begin the task of harassing the French and Spanish coast while the other stayed on the rendezvous awaiting the admiral.
“That’s a worthy suggestion,” said Bolton.
Hornblower shook off the lassitude occasioned by the heat and the vast meal inside him. He wanted the Sutherland to be despatched on this duty. The prospect of immediate action was stimulating. He could feel his pulse quickening at the thought, and the more he considered it the more anxious he was that the choice should fall on him. Days of dreary beating about on and off the rendezvous made no appeal to him at all. He could bear it if necessary — twenty years in the navy would harden anyone to waiting — but he did not want to have to. He did not want to.
“Who shall it be?” said Bolton. “You or me?” Hornblower took a grip of his eagerness.
“You are the senior officer on the station, sir,” he said. “It is for you to say.”
“Yes,” said Bolton, meditatively. “Yes.”
He looked at Hornblower with a considering eye.
“You’d give three fingers to go,” he said suddenly, “and you know it. You’re the same restless devil that you were in the Indefatigable. I remember beating you for it, in ’93, or was it ’94?”
Hornblower flushed hotly at the reminder. The bitter humiliation of being bent over a gun and beaten by the lieutenant of the midshipman’s berth rankled to this day when it was recalled to him. But he swallowed his resentment; he had no wish to quarrel with Bolton, especially at this juncture, and he knew he was exceptional in regarding a beating as an outrage.
“’93, sir,” he said. “I’d just joined.”
“And now you’re a post captain, and most noteworthy one in the bottom half of the list,” said Bolton. “God, how time flies. I’d let you go, Hornblower, for old times’ sake, if I didn’t want to go myself.”
“Oh,” said Hornblower. His evident disappointment made his expression ludicrous. Bolton laughed.
“Fair’s fair,” he said. “I’ll spin a coin for it. Agreed?”
“Yes, sir,” said Hornblower, eagerly. Better an even chance than no chance at all.
“You’ll bear me no malice if I win?”
“No, sir. None.”
With maddening slowness Bolton reached into his fob and brought out his purse. He took out a guinea and laid it on the table, and then, with the same deliberation, while Hornblower wrestled with his eagerness, he replaced the purse. Then he took up the guinea, and poised it on his gnarled thumb and forefinger.
“King or spade?” he asked, looking across at Hornblower.
“Spade,” said Hornblower, swallowing hard.
The coin rang as Bolton spun it in the air; he caught it, and crashed it on to the table.
“Spade it is,” he said, lifting his hand.
Bolton went through all the motions once more of taking out his purse, putting the guinea back, and thrusting the purse into his fob, while Hornblower forced himself to sit still and watch him. He was cool again now, with the immediate prospect of action.
“Damn it, Hornblower,” he said. “I’m glad you won. You can speak the Dago lingo, which is more than I can. You’ve had experience with ’em in the South Sea. It’s the sort of duty just made for you. Don’t be gone more than three days. I ought to put that in writing, in case his High Mightiness comes back. But I won’t trouble. Good luck to you, Hornblower, and fill your glass.”
Hornblower filled it two-thirds full — if he left a little in the bottom he would only have drunk half a glass more than he wanted then. He sipped, and leaned back in his chair, restraining his eagerness as long as possible. But it overcame him at last, and he rose.
“God damn it, man, you’re not going?” said Bolton. Hornblower’s attitude was unmistakable, but he could not believe the evidence of his eyes.
“If you would permit me, sir,” said Hornblower. “There’s a fair wind —”
Hornblower was actually stammering as he tried to make all his explanations at once. The wind might change; if it was worth while separating it was better to go now than later; if the Sutherland were to stand in towards the coast during the dark hours there was a chance that she might snap up a prize at dawn — every sort of explanation except the true one that he could not bear to sit still any longer with immediate action awaiting him just over the horizon.