Yet another article declared that as a result of Admiral Cosmao’s great victory over the Sutherland at Rosas English naval action on the coasts of Spain had ceased, and the British army of Wellington, so imprudently exposed to the might of the French arms, was already suffering seriously from a shortage of supplies. Having lost one vile accomplice in the person of the detestable Hornblower, perfidious Albion was about to lose another on Wellington’s inevitable surrender.
Hornblower read the smudgy columns in impotent fury. ‘A hundred gun ship’, forsooth, when the Sutherland was only a seventy-four and almost the smallest of her rate in the list! ‘Resistance of the poorest!’ ‘One topmast lost!’ The Sutherland had beaten three bigger ships into wrecks and had disabled a fourth before surrendering. ‘One of the few wounded!’ Two-thirds of the Sutherland’s crew had given life or limb, and with his own eyes he had seen the blood running from the scuppers of the French flagship. ‘English naval action had ceased!’ There was not a hint that a fortnight after the capture of the Sutherland the whole French squadron had been destroyed in the night attack on Rosas Bay.
His professional honour had been impugned; the circumstantial lies had been well told, too — that subtle touch about only one topmast being lost had every appearance of verisimilitude. Europe might well believe that he was a poltroon as well as a pirate, and he had not the slightest chance of contradicting what had been said. Even in England such reports must receive a little credit — most of the Moniteur’s bulletins, especially the naval ones, were reproduced in the English press. Lady Barbara, Maria, his brother captains, must all be wondering at the present moment just how much credence should be given to the Moniteur’s statements. Accustomed as the world might be to Bonaparte’s exaggerations people could hardly be expected to realize that in this case everything said — save for the bare statement of his surrender — had been completely untrue. His hands shook a little with the passion that consumed him, and he was conscious of the hot flush in his cheeks as he looked up and met the eyes of the others. It was hard to grope for his few French words while he was so angry.
“He is a liar!” he spluttered at length. “He dishonours me!”
“He dishonours everyone,” said the Count, quietly.
“But this — but this,” said Hornblower, and then gave up the struggle to express himself in French. He remembered that while he was in captivity in Rosas he had realized that Bonaparte would publish triumphant bulletins regarding the capture of the Sutherland, and it was only weakness to be enraged by them now that he was confronted by them.
“Will you forgive me,” asked the Count, “if I change the subject and ask you a few personal questions?”
“Certainly.”
“I presume you have escaped from an escort which was taking you to Paris?”
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
“Where did you escape?”
Hornblower tried to explain that it was at a point where a by-road ran down to the river’s edge, six kilometres on the farther side of Nevers. Haltingly, he went on to describe the conditions of his escape, the silencing of Colonel Caillard, and the wild navigation of the river in the darkness.
“That must have been about six o’clock, I presume?” asked the Count.
“Yes.”
“It is only midnight now, and you have come twenty kilometres. There is not the slightest chance of your escort seeking you here for some time. That is what I wanted to know. You will be able to sleep in tranquillity to-night, Captain.”
Hornblower realized with a shock that he had long taken it for granted that he would sleep in tranquillity, at least as far as immediate recapture was concerned; the atmosphere of the house had been too friendly for him to feel otherwise. By way of reaction, he began to feel doubts.
“Are you going to — to tell the police we are here?” he asked; it was infernally difficult to phrase that sort of thing in a foreign language and avoid offence.
“On the contrary,” said the Count. “I shall tell them, if they ask me, that you are not here. I hope you will consider yourself among friends in this house, Captain, and that you will make your stay here as long as is convenient to you.”