“The Pool’s always a rare sight, ma’am,” said stroke. “Even wi’ the war an’ all.”
All this busy shipping was the best proof that Bonaparte across the water was losing his war against England. England could never be conquered while the Navy dominated the sea, strangling the continental powers while allowing free passage to British commerce.
Below the Pool lay a ship of war, idly at anchor, topmasts sent down, hands at work on stages overside painting. At her bows was a crude figurehead of a draped female painted in red and white; in her clumsily carved hands she carried a large pair of gilded shears, and it was those which told Hornblower what the ship was, before he could count the eleven gunports aside, before they passed under her stern and he could read her name, Atropos. He choked down his excitement as he stared at her, taking note of her trim and her lines, of the petty officer of the anchor watch — of everything that in that piercing moment he could possibly observe.
“Atropos, twenty‑two,” said stroke‑oar, noting Hornblower’s interest.
“My husband is captain of her,” said Maria proudly.
“Indeed, sir?” answered stroke, with a new respect that must have been gratifying to Maria.
Already the boat was swinging round; there was Deptford Creek and Deptford Hard.
“Easy!” said bow. “Give way again. Easy!”
The boat rasped against the shore, and the journey from Gloucester was over. No, not over, decided Hornblower preparing to disembark. There was now all the tedious business before them of getting a lodging, taking their baggage there, and settling Maria in before he could get to his ship. Life was a succession of pills that had to be swallowed. He paid the boatman under Maria’s watchful eye; fortunately a riverside lounger came to solicit custom, and produced a barrow on which he piled the luggage. Hornblower took Maria’s arm and helped her up the slippery Hard as she carried the baby.
“Glad I’ll be,” said Maria, “to take these shoes off. And the sooner little Horatio is changed the better. There, there, darling.” Only the briefest walk, luckily, took them to the “George”. A plump landlady received than, running a sympathetic eye over Maria’s condition. She took them up to a room while a maid under her vigorous urgings sped to get hot water and towels.
“There, my poppet,” said the landlandy to little Horatio.
“Ooh,” said Maria, sitting down on the bed and already beginning to take off her shoes.
Hornblower was standing by the door waiting for his sea chests to be brought up.
“When are you expecting, ma’am?” asked the landlady.
It seemed not a moment before she and Maria were discussing midwives and the rising cost of living — the latter subject introduced by Maria’s determination to chaffer over the price of the room. The potman and the riverside lounger carried the baggage up and put it down on the floor of the room, interrupting the discussion. Hornblower took out his keys and knelt eagerly at his chest.
“Horatio, dear,” said Maria, “we’re speaking to you.”
“Eh — what?” asked Hornblower absently over his shoulder.
“Something hot, sir, while breakfast is preparing?” asked the landlady. “Rum punch? A dish o’ tea?”
“Not for me, thank you,” said Hornblower
He had his chest open by now and was unpacking it feverishly.
“Cannot that wait until we’ve had breakfast, dear?” asked Maria. “Then I could do it for you.”
“I fear not, ma’am,” said Hornblower, still on his knees.
“Your best shirts! You’re crumpling them,” protested Maria.
Hornblower was dragging out his uniform coat from beneath them. He laid the coat on the other chest and searched for his epaulette.
“You’re going to your ship!” exclaimed Maria.
“Of course, my dear,” said Hornblower.
The landlady was out of the room and conversation could run more freely.
“But you must have your breakfast first,” expostulated Maria.
Hornblower made himself see reason.
“Five minutes for breakfast, then, after I’ve shaved,” he said.
He laid out his coat on the bed, with a frown at its creases, and he unlatched the japanned box which held his cocked hat. He threw off the coat he was wearing and undid, feverishly, his neckcloth and stock. Little Horatio decided at that moment to protest again against a heartless world, and Hornblower unrolled his housewife and took out his razor and addressed himself to shaving while Maria attended to the baby.