Suspecting, morbidly, that the others would treat him like an outcast if they could, he anticipated them and made an outcast of himself, bitterly proud. He went through all that period of black reaction by himself, without companionship, during those last days of Gambier’s tenure of command, until Hood came out in the Britannia to take over the command, and, amid the thunder of salutes, the Victory sailed for Portsmouth. There were headwinds to delay her passage; she had to beat up the Channel for seven long days before at last she glided into Spithead and the cable roared out through the hawse-hole.
Hornblower sat in his cabin — he felt no interest in the green hills of the Isle of Wight nor in the busy prospect of Portsmouth. The tap which came at his cabin door heralded, he supposed, the arrival of the orders regarding his court martial.
“Come in!” he said, but it was Bush who entered, stumping along on his wooden leg, his face wreathed in smiles, his arms burdened with packages and parcels.
At the sight of that homely face Hornblower’s depression evaporated like mist. He found himself grinning as delightedly as Bush, he wrung his hand over and over again, sat him down in the only chair, offered to send for drinks for him, all trace of self-consciousness and reserve disappearing in the violence of his reaction.
“Oh, I’m well enough, sir, thank you,” said Bush, in reply to Hornblower’s questions. “And this is the first chance I’ve had of thanking you for my promotion.”
“Don’t thank me,” said Hornblower, a trace of bitterness creeping back into his voice. “You must thank his Lordship.”
“I know who I owe it to, all the same,” said Bush, sturdily. “They’re going to post me as captain this week. They won’t give me a ship — not with this leg of mine — but there’s the dockyard job at Sheerness waiting for me. I should never be captain if it weren’t for you, sir.”
“Rubbish,” said Hornblower. The pathetic gratitude in Bush’s voice and expression made him feel uncomfortable.
“And how is it with you, sir?” asked Bush, regarding him with anxious blue eyes.
Hornblower shrugged his shoulders.
“Fit and well,” he said.
“I was sorry to hear about Mrs Hornblower, sir,” said Bush.
That was all he needed to say on that subject. They knew each other too well to have to enlarge on it.
“I took the liberty, sir,” said Bush, hastily, “of bringing you out your letters — there was a good deal waiting for you.”
“Yes?” said Hornblower.
“This big package is a sword, I’m sure, sir,” said Bush. He was cunning enough to think of ways of capturing Hornblower’s interest.
“Let’s open it, then,” said Hornblower, indulgently.
A sword it was, sure enough, with a gold-mounted scabbard and a gold hilt, and when Hornblower drew it the blue steel blade bore an inscription in gold inlay. It was the sword ‘of one hundred guineas’ value’ which had been presented to him by the Patriotic Fund for his defeat of the Natividad in the Lydia, and which he had left in pawn with Duddingstone the ship’s chandler at Plymouth, as a pledge for payment for captain’s stores when he was commissioning the Sutherland.
“A sight too much writing on this for me,” Duddingstone had complained at the time.
“Let’s see what Duddingstone has to say,” said Hornblower, tearing open the note enclosed in the package.
Sir,
It was with great emotion that I read to-day of your escape from the Corsican’s clutches and I cannot find words to express my relief that the reports of your untimely death were unfounded, nor my admiration of your exploits during your last commission. I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to retain the sword of an officer so distinguished, and have therefore taken the liberty of forwarding the enclosed to you, hoping that in consequence you will wear it when next you enforce Britannia’s dominion of the seas.
Your obedient and humble servant to command.
J. DUDDINGSTONE.
“God bless my soul!” said Hornblower.
He let Bush read the note; Bush was a captain and his equal now, as well as his friend, and there was no disciplinary objection to allowing him to know to what shifts he had been put when commissioning the Sutherland. Hornblower laughed a little self-consciously when Bush looked up at him after reading the note.