“One moment, dear, if you will pardon me,” he said, and stepped nimbly out on to the towpath, joining himself to the conversation of the steersman and the horseholder.
“Ne’er a man here,” said the latter. “An’ you won’t find one before Oxford, that I’ll warrant you.”
In reply the steersman said much the same things as he had said to the other horseholder.
“That’s how it is, an’ all,” said the horseholder philosophically, “you’ll have to wait for the trade.”
“No spare men here?” asked Hornblower.
“None, sir,” said the steersman, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, “I suppose, sir, you wouldn’t care to drive a pair o’ horses?”
“Not I,” answered Hornblower hastily — he was taken sufficiently by surprise by the question to make no attempt to disguise his dismay at the thought of driving two horses in the manner of the injured Charlie; then he saw how to recover his dignity and keep himself safe from Maria’s ministrations, and he added: “But I’ll take the tiller.”
“O’ course you could, sir,” answered the steersman. “Not the first time you’ve handled a tiller. Not by a long chalk An’ I’ll drive the nags, me an’ my jury fist an’ all.”
He glanced down at the steel hook that replaced his missing hand.
“Very well,” said Hornblower.
“I’m grateful to you, sir, that I am,” said the steersman, and to emphasize his sincerity he swore a couple more oaths. “I’ve a contract on this here v’yage — that’s two chests o’ tea for’rard there, first o’ the China crop for Lunnon delivery. You’ll save me pounds, sir, an’ my good name as well. Grateful I am, by —”
He emphasized his sincerity again.
“That’s all right,” said Hornblower. “The sooner we start the sooner we arrive. What’s your name?”
“Jenkins, sir.” Tom Jenkins, the steersman — now to be the postillion — tugged at his forelock, “main topman in the old Superb, Cap’n Keates, sir.”
“Very well, Jenkins. Let’s start.”
The horseholder tended to the business of attaching the horses’ towlines, and while Jenkins cast off the bow‑line, Hornblower cast off the stern one and stood by with a single turn round the bollard; Jenkins climbed nimbly into the saddle and draped the reins about his hook.
“But, Horatio,” said Maria, “whatever are you thinking about?”
“About arriving in London, my dear,” said Hornblower, and at that moment the whip cracked and the towlines tightened.
Hornblower had to spring for the stern sheets, line in hand, and he had to grab for the tiller. Maybe Maria was still expostulating, but if she were, Hornblower was already far too busy to hear anything she said. It was impressive how quickly the Queen Charlotte picked up speed as the horses, suddenly breaking into a trot, pulled her bows up on to her bow wave. From a trot they changed to a canter, and the speed seemed fantastic — far faster, to Hornblower’s heated imagination, now that he was at the helm instead of being a mere irresponsible passenger. The banks were flying by; fortunately in this deep cut of the summit level the channel was straight at first, for the steering was not perfectly simple. The two towlines, one at the bow and one at the stern, held the boat parallel to the bank with the smallest use of the rudder — an economic employment of force that appealed to Hornblower’s mathematical mind, but which made the feel of the boat a little unnatural as he tentatively tried the tiller.
He looked forward at the approaching bend with some apprehension, and as they neared it he darted his eyes from bank to bank to make sure he was holding in mid‑channel. And round the bend, almost upon them, was a bridge — another of these infernal canal bridges, built for economy, with the towpath bulging out under the arch, so that it was hard to sight for the centre of the greatly narrowed channel. Maria was certainly saying something to him, and little Horatio was undoubtedly yelling like a fury, but this was no moment to spare them either a glance or a thought. He steadied the boat round the bend. The hoofs of the lead horse were already ringing on the cobbles under the bridge. God! He was over too far. He tugged the tiller across. Too far the other way! He pushed the tiller back, straightening the boat on her course even as her bows entered the narrows. She turned, very nearly fast enough — her starboard quarter, just where he stood, hit with a solid thump against the elbow of the brick‑faced canal side, but she had a thick rope rubbing strake there — presumably to meet situations of this sort — which cushioned the shock; it was not violent enough to throw the passengers off their benches in the cabin, although it nearly threw Hornblower, crouching low under the arch, on to his face. No time to think, not even though little Horatio had apparently been bumped by the shock and was now screaming even more wildly in the bows; the canal was curving back again and he had to guide the Queen Charlotte round the bend.