Hornblower and the Atropos. C. S. Forester

“We’ll be at the first lock any moment,” he said to Maria, with a gesture of his right hand calling her attention to the dark window. Maria tried to peer out, and Hornblower flipped the second sausage into his handkerchief and stuffed it into his side pocket. He caught the eye of the elderly man sitting nearly opposite him across the narrow cabin. This individual had been sitting muffled up in great coat and scarf, his hat pressed down low on his forehead, grouchily keeping watch from under his eyebrows at every movement the Hornblowers had made. Hornblower gave him an elaborate wink in reply to the astonishment which replaced the grouchy old gentleman’s bad‑tempered curiosity. It was not a conspiratorial wink, nor did Hornblower attempt the hopeless task of trying to pretend that he stuffed hot greasy sausages into his pocket every day of his life; the wink simply dared the old gentleman to comment on or even think about the remarkable act. He applied himself to finishing off the pease pudding.

“You eat so fast, dear,” said Maria. “It cannot be good for your stomach.”

She herself was struggling desperately with her own sausages

“I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” said Hornblower. “Now I’ll start on our dinner, stale or not.”

“I am delighted,” said Maria. “Let me —”

“No, dear. Sit still. I’ll look after myself.”

Hornblower took the food parcel and opened it.

“Quite excellent,” he said, with his mouth full of bread and meat.

At every moment he was making amends to Maria for his cavalier treatment of her during the day. The larger the meals he ate, the more appetite he evinced, the better Maria was pleased. A little gesture like helping himself to his own dinner gratified her absurdly. He could give her so much happiness; he could hurt her so easily.

“I regret having seen so little of you during the day, dear,” he said. “It was my loss. But if I had not helped with the working of the boat we should skill be at Sapperton Tunnel.”

“Yes, dear,” said Maria.

“I would have liked to point out the scenery to you as we passed it,” went on Hornblower, battling with the self‑contempt that his hypocrisy was arousing. “I trust you enjoyed it even so?”

“Not nearly as much as if you had been with me, dear,” said Maria, but gratified beyond all measure. She darted glances at the other women in the cabin to detect the envy they must feel on account of her having such a wonderful husband.

“The boy was good?” asked Hornblower. “He ate his pap?”

“Every bit of it,” answered Maria proudly, looking down at the sleeping child. “He was inclined to whimper at times, but now he is sleeping happily.”

“If it had been two years from now that we made this journey,” said Hornblower, “how interested he would have been! He would have helped with the lines, and I could have taught him to hold the tiller.”

Now he was not being hypocritical at all.

“He showed a lively interest even now,” said Maria.

“And what about his little sister?” asked Hornblower. “Did she behave well?”

“Horatio!” said Maria, a little scandalized.

“I hope not badly, dear,” said Hornblower, smiling away her embarrassment.

“No, excellently,” admitted Maria.

They were gliding into a lock; Hornblower heard the rattle of the paddles being let down behind them.

“You made very little progress with your sausages, dear,” he said. “Let me dispose of them while you tackle some of this bread and meat, which is really delicious.”

“But, dear —”

“I insist.”

He took Maria’s platter and his own, and stepped out into the bows of the boat in the darkness. It was the work of a moment to give the platters a quick rinse overside; the work of another moment to drop overside the sausage from his pocket, and he returned with the dripping platters to a Maria both scandalized and delighted at the condescension of her husband in thus doing menial work.

“Too dark to enjoy any scenery,” he said — already the boat was moving out of the lock — “Maria, my dear, when you have completed your supper I will endeavour to make you as comfortable as is possible for the night.”

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