Hornblower and the Atropos. C. S. Forester

So all next day the ship’s company of Atropos toiled to complete their ship for sea. Hornblower was hardly conscious of the activity going on around Ocean — it was what might be expected in the flagship of the Commander‑in‑Chief in his ally’s capital. He regretted the interruption to his men’s work when the admiral’s barge came pulling by, and still more when the royal barge, with the Sicilian colours and the Bourbon lilies displayed, came pulling by to visit Ocean. But that was only to be expected. When the flaming afternoon began to die away into the lovely evening he found time to exercise his men in accordance with the new station and quarter bills so many had been the casualties that all the organization had to be revised. He stood there in the glowing sunset watching the men coming running down from aloft after setting topsails.

“Signal from the flag, sir,” said Smiley, breaking in on his concentrated thought. “‘Flag to Atropos. Come on board!'”

“Call my gig,” said Hornblower. “Mr. Jones, you will take command.”

A desperate rush to change into his better uniform, and then he hurled himself down the ship’s side to where his gig awaited him. Collingwood received him in the well‑remembered cabin; the silver lamps were alight now, and in the boxes under the great stern windows were strange flowers whose names he did not know. And on Collingwood’s face was a strange expression; there was a hint of distress in it, and of sympathy, as well as something of irritation. Hornblower stopped short at the sight of him, with a sudden pounding of the heart. He could hardly remember to make his bow properly. It flashed through his mind that perhaps Ford had reported adversely on his behaviour in the recent action. He might be facing court martial and ruin.

At Collingwood’s shoulder stood a large elegant gentleman in full dress, with the ribbon and star of an order.

“My lord,” said Collingwood, “this is Captain Horatio Hornblower, I believe you have already had correspondence with His Excellency, Captain. Lord William Bentinck.”

Hornblower made his bow again, his feverish mind telling him that at least this could not be anything to do with the action with the Castilla — that would not be the Minister’s business; on the other hand, in fact, Collingwood would keep strangers out of any scandal in the service.

“How d’ye do, sir?” asked Lord William.

“Very well, thank you, my Lord.”

The two Lords went on looking at Hornblower, and Hornblower looked back at them, trying to appear calm during those endless seconds.

“There’s bad news for you, Hornblower, I fear,” said Collingwood at last, sadly.

Hornblower restrained himself from asking “What is it?” He pulled himself up stiffer than ever, and tried to meet Collingwood’s eyes without wavering.

“His Sicilian Majesty,” went on Collingwood, “needs a ship.”

“Yes, my lord?”

Hornblower was none the wiser.

“When Bonaparte conquered the mainland he laid hands on the Sicilian Navy. Negligence — desertion — you can understand. There is no ship now at the disposal of His Majesty.”

“No, my Lord.” Hornblower could guess now what was coming.

“While coming out to visit Ocean this morning His Majesty happened to notice Atropos, with her paint all fresh. You made an excellent business of your refitting, Captain, as I noticed.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“His Majesty does not think it right that, as an island King, he should be without a ship.”

“I see, my Lord.”

Here Bentinck broke in, speaking harshly.

“The fact of the matter, Hornblower, is that the King has asked for your ship to be transferred to his flag.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Nothing mattered now. Nothing was of any value.

“And I have advised His Lordship,” went on Bentinck, indicating Collingwood, “that for the highest reasons of state it would be advisable to agree to the transfer.”

The imbecile monarch coveting the newly‑painted toy. Hornblower could not keep back his protest.

“I find it hard to believe it necessary, my Lord,” he said.

For a moment His Excellency looked down in astonishment at the abysmal junior captain who questioned his judgment, but His Excellency kept his temper admirably all the same, and condescended to explain.

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