Hornblower and the Hotspur. C. S. Forester

“Well, what is it?” he asked.

Bush’s face split into an ecstatic grin.

“Droits of Admiralty, sir,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Moore and the frigates – I mean Captain Moore, of course, begging your pardon, sir.”

“What about them?”

“I was in the coffee-room of the Lord Hawke, sir – I often go there of an evening – and last Wednesday’s newspapers came down from London. And there it was, sir. Droits of Admiralty.”

Wrecks; stranded whales; flotsam and jetsam; Droits of Admiralty dealt with things of this sort, appropriating them for the Crown, and, despite the name, they were of no concern to Their Lordships. Bush’s grin expanded into a laugh.

“Serves ’em right, doesn’t it, sir?” he said.

“You’ll have to explain a little further.”

“All that treasure they captured in the flota, sir. It’s not prize money at all. It goes to the Government as Droits of Admiralty. The frigates don’t get a penny. You see, sir, it was time of peace.”

Now Hornblower understood. In the event of war breaking out with another country, the ships of that country which happened to be in British ports were seized by the Government as Droits of Admiralty; prize money came under a different category, for prizes taken at sea in time of war were Droits of the Crown, and were specifically granted to the captors by an order in Council which waived the rights of the Crown.

The government was perfectly justified legally in its action. And however much that action would infuriate the ships’ companies of the frigates, it would make the rest of the navy laugh outright, just as it had made Bush laugh.

“So we didn’t lose anything, sir, on account of your noble action. Noble – I’ve always wanted to tell you it was noble, sir.”

“But how could you lose anything?” asked Maria.

“Don’t you know about that, ma’am?” asked Bush, turning his wavering gaze upon her. Wavering or not, and whether he was drunk or not, Bush could still see that Maria had been left in ignorance of the opportunity that Hotspur had declined, and he still was sober enough to make the deduction that it would be inadvisable to enter into explanations.

“What was it that Captain Hornblower did that was so noble?” asked Maria.

“Least said soonest mended, ma’am,” said Bush. He thrust his hand into his side pocket and laboriously fished out a small bottle. “I took the liberty of bringing this with me, ma’am, so that we could drink to the health of Captain Moore an’ the Indefatigable an’ the Droits of Admiralty. It’s rum, ma’am. With hot water an’ lemon an’ sugar, ma’am, it makes a suitable drink for this time o’ day.”

Hornblower caught Maria’s glance.

“It’s too late tonight, Mr Bush,” he said. “We’ll drink that health tomorrow. I’ll help you with your coat.”

After Bush had left (being helped on with his coat by his captain flustered him sufficiently to make him almost wordless) Hornblower turned back to Maria.

“He’ll find his way back to the ship all right,” he said.

“So you did something noble, darling,” said Maria

“Bush was drunk,” replied Hornblower. “He was talking nonsense.”

“I wonder,” said Maria. Her eyes were shining. “I always think of you as noble, my darling.”

“Nonsense,” said Hornblower.

Maria came forward to him, putting her hand up to his shoulders, coming close so that he could resume the interrupted embrace.

“Of course you must have secrets from me,” she said. “I understand. You’re a King’s officer, as well as my darling husband.”

Now that she was in his arms she had put her head far back to look up at him.

“It’s no secret,” she went on, “that I love you, my dear, noble love. More than life itself.”

Hornblower knew it was true. He felt his tenderness towards her surging up within him. But she was still speaking.

“And something else that isn’t a secret,” went on Maria. “Perhaps you’ve guessed. I think you have.”

“I thought so,” said Hornblower. “You make me very happy, my dear wife.”

Maria smiled, her face quite transfigured. “Perhaps this time it will be a little daughter. A sweet little girl.”

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