“Where are these orders?” demanded Hornblower, brusque with his suppressed excitement.
“In my desk, sir. I’ll fetch ’em at once.”
It could not be too quickly for Hornblower, who stood under the little skylight awaiting Jones’ return. He took the sealed package into his hand and stood holding it for a moment. This was an instant transition. The journey of the last twenty‑four hours had been a longer period, but of the same kind — an interval between one kind of activity and another. The next few seconds would eventually transform the Atropos from an idle ship in the Thames to an active ship at sea, lookouts at the mastheads, guns ready for action, peril and adventure and death only just over the horizon if not alongside. Hornblower broke the seal — the foul anchor of the Admiralty, the most inappropriate emblem conceivable for a nation that ruled the sea. Looking up, he met Jones’ eyes, as the first lieutenant waited anxiously to hear what their fate was to be. Hornblower knew that he should have sent Jones away before breaking the seal, but it was too late now. Hornblower read the opening lines he could have announced beforehand what would be the first six words, or even the first twelve.
You are hereby requested and required, immediately upon receipt of these orders —
This was the moment; Hornblower savoured it for one half of one second.
— to wait upon Henry Pallender, Esq., Blue Mantle Pursuivant at Arms, at the College of Heralds —
“God Hess my soul,” said Hornblower.
“What is it, sir?” asked Jones.
“I don’t know yet,” answered Hornblower.
— there to consult with him upon the arrangements to be made for the funeral Procession by water of the late Vice‑Admiral Lord Viscount Nelson —
“So that’s it,” said Hornblower.
“It’s what, sir?” asked Jones, but Hornblower could not spare the time at present to enlighten him.
— You will take upon yourself, by the authority of these order, the command of all officers, seamen, and Royal Marines to be engaged in the Procession aforesaid, likewise of all vessels, boats and barges belonging to the Cities of London and Westminster and to the City Companies. You will issue all the orders necessary for the Procession to be conducted in a seaman‑like manner. You will, by your consultations with Henry Pallender, Esq., aforesaid, ascertain the requirements of Ceremonial and Precedence, but you are hereby charged, upon your peril, to pay strict attention to conditions of Tide and Weather so that not only may Ceremonial be observed, but also that no Danger or Damage may be incurred by the boats, barges, and vessels aforesaid, nor by their Crews and Passengers.
“Please, sir. Please, sir,” said Jones.
His thoughts came back into the little cabin.
“These are orders for me personally,” he said. “Oh — very well, you can read them if you wish to.”
Jones read them with moving lips and finally looked up at Hornblower with a bewildered compression.
“So the ship stays here, sir?” he asked.
“She certainly does. She is from this moment the flagship of the funeral procession,” said Hornblower. “I shall need a boat and boat’s crew at once. Oh yes, pen and paper to send a message to my wife.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“See there’s a good petty officer in the boat. She’ll be waiting a good deal ashore.”
“Aye aye, sir. We’re having men run every day.”
Of course desertion could be a very serious problem in a ship anchored here in the river, within swimming distance of shore and innumerable boats plying about, with the whole City of London close at hand into which a deserter might disappear. And there could be the question of liquor being surreptitiously sold on board from shore boats. And Hornblower had been on board for a full ten minutes and he was no wiser about the things he most wanted to know — about how Atropos was manned and officered, what she lacked, what was her material condition — than he had been yesterday. But all the problems with which he was so anxious to deal must for the moment be shelved, to be dealt with at intervals when this new strange duty permitted. The mere question of the furnishing of his cabin might demand more attention than he could spare at present. Hornblower knew from the newspaper he had read yesterday that Nelson’s body was at the Nore, awaiting a fair wind before being brought up to Greenwich. Time was pressing and there were orders in hundreds to be written, he did not doubt.