That thought called up a surge of revolt. She had been his for the asking, once. He had kissed her, clasped her. No matter that he had been afraid to take her — he slurred that memory over in his present indignation — she had offered, and he had declined. As a suppliant once, she had no right to pose to herself now as his patroness. He stamped his feet with mortification as he paced the deck.
But his clairvoyance was instantly blurred by his idealism. His memory of a cool and self collected Lady Barbara, the perfect hostess, the dignified wife of an admiral, was overlaid by mental pictures of a tender Lady Barbara, a loving Lady Barbara, with a beauty which would take a man’s breath away. His heart was torn with longing for her; he felt sick and sad and lonely in his rush of desire for her, for the angel of goodness and sweetness and kindliness he thought her to be. His pulse beat faster as he remembered her white bosom with the sapphire pendant resting on it, and animal desire came to reinforce the boyish affection he bore her.
“Sail ho!” bellowed the masthead lookout, and Hornblower’s dreaminess was stripped from him in a flash, like the straw wrapping from a bottle.
“Where away?”
“Right in the wind’s eye, sir, an’ comin’ up fast.”
A brisk nor’easterly wind like the present meant ideal weather conditions for French ships which wished to escape from the blockade of Marseille and Toulon. It was a fair wind for the escaping ship, enabling her to get out of harbour and cover a long distance during the first night, while at the same time it pushed the blockading squadron away to leeward. This might well be a ship engaged in breaking the blockade, and if such were the case she would have small chance of escape with the Sutherland right to leeward of her. It would be consistent with the good fortune he had enjoyed on detached service during the present commission if this were to be another prize for him.
“Keep her steady as she goes,” said Hornblower, in reply to Bush’s look of inquiry. “And turn the hands up, if you please, Mr Bush.”
“Deck, there!” hailed the lookout. “She’s a frigate, and British by the look of her.”
That was a disappointment. There were fifty possible explanations of a British frigate’s presence here and on her present course which offered no chance of action as opposed to one which might involve the proximity of an enemy. Her topsails were in sight already, white against the grey sky.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the gunlayer of one of the port side quarterdeck carronades. “Stebbings here thinks he knows who she is.”
Stebbings was one of the hands taken from the East India convoy, a middle-aged man with grey hairs in his beard.
“Cassandra, sir, thirty-two, seems to me. She convoyed us last v’yage.”
“Captain Frederick Cooke, sir,” added Vincent, flipping hastily over the pages of the printed list.
“Ask her number and make sure,” ordered Hornblower.
Cooke had been posted six months later than he had; in the event of any combined operations he would be the senior officer.
“Yes, she’s the Cassandra, sir,” said Vincent, his eye to his telescope, as a hoist of flags went up to the frigate’s foretopsail yardarm.
“She’s letting fly her sheets,” said Bush, with a hint of excitement in his voice. “Queer, that is, sir.”
From time immemorial, dating back long before a practical flag signalling system had been devised, letting fly the sheets had been a conventional warning all the world over of the approach of a fleet.
“She’s signalling again, sir,” said Vincent. “It’s hard to read with the flags blowing straight towards us.”
“Damn it, sir,” blazed Bush. “Use your eyes, or I’ll know the reason why not.”
“Numeral. Four. Literal. Seventeen — astern — to windward — source — sou’west,” translated Longley with the signal book.
“Beat to quarters, if you please, Mr Bush. And wear the ship directly.”
It was not the Sutherland’s task to fight odds of four to one. If there were any British ships in pursuit he could throw himself in the enemy’s path and reply on crippling at least two Frenchmen so as to ensure their capture, but until he knew more about the situation he must keep as clear as was possible.