CHAPTER THREE
Hornblower was still in his hammock even though it was long after daybreak, even though it was full dawn. He had turned himself over without waking himself up too much — something he had had to relearn now that he was sleeping in a hammock again — and he was determined upon staying where he was, as somnolent as possible, for the longest possible time. In that way he would find the day shorter; his mind, clogged with sleep, would not be working at high tension for so long. Yesterday had been a bad day, when a favourable slant of wind at nightfall had endured just long enough to return the Princess to the heart of the blockading squadron before reversing itself maddeningly.
A certain amount of bustle and excitement became audible on the deck over his head, and there was a boat alongside. He snarled to himself and prepared to roll out of his hammock. It would be some trifle of no concern to him, and dull as well most likely, but it was sufficient to put an end to his resolution to stay in his hammock.
He had his feet on deck with his seat still supported by the hammock when the midshipman appeared. Hornblower glowered at him with bleared eyes, observing the trim white breeches and buckled shoes; this must be some pampered pet from a flagship, and he was offering him a letter. Hornblower was instantly fully awake. He broke the wafer that sealed the note.
You are hereby requested and required to attend as a witness, at your peril, upon the court martial to be held at nine in the forenoon of this twentieth day of May 1805 in the Cabin of HMS Hibernia to try Captain James Percival Meadows, the officers and ship’s company of HM’s late sloop Hotspur for the loss of the said vessel by stranding during the night of the eighteenth day of May 1805.
Henry Bowden, RA, Captain of the Fleet.
NB. A boat will be sent.
Here was something startling, astonishing; Hornblower gaped at the note while re‑reading it, until he remembered the presence of the midshipman and the consequent need to appear imperturbable.
“Very well, thank you,” he snapped; the midshipman had hardly turned his back before Hornblower was dragging out his sea chest and trying to make up his mind as to how he could get the creases out of his threadbare fulldress coat.
“HM’s late sloop.” That could only mean that Hotspur was a total loss. But Meadows was alive, which implied that few, if any, lives had been lost. Certainly Meadows had wasted no time in putting Hotspur ashore. That would be the easiest thing in the world to do, as no one could say with more certainty than he who had never done it.
To shave he had to drag his sea chest under the hatchway and stand on it with his head protruding and his mirror propped up on the deck. He was not quite tall enough to dispense with the sea chest; it crossed his mind that Meadows must have been tall enough to see clear over the coaming without taking steps to add a cubit to his stature.
Baddlestone came up and actually volunteered information as Hornblower stood there balancing precariously; he was still sufficiently unaccustomed to the Princess’s antics to make it difficult to use his second hand to pull his skin tight while wielding the razor with the other.
“So Hotspur’s lost on the Black Rock,” said Baddlestone.
“I knew she was aground,” said Hornblower. “But I didn’t know where.”
“Do you call being at the bottom of the sea aground? She touched on a falling tide. Holed herself and filled and then rolled off on the flood.”
It was remarkable how the fleet auxiliaries picked up the news.
“Any loss of life?” asked Hornblower.
“None that I’ve heard of,” said Baddlestone.
He would certainly have heard if any officers had been drowned. So they were all safe, including Bush. Hornblower could devote special attention to the tricky area round the left corner of his mouth.
“Giving evidence, I hear?” asked Baddlestone.
“Yes.” Hornblower had no desire at all to add to Baddlestone’s store of gossip.