“Mr Bush! Mr Orrock! You will please come down when you are sure you will see nothing more useful.”
The ship was alive with a new atmosphere; Hornblower was sensitively aware of it as the hands went about their duties. Everyone on board was conscious that they were bearding Boney in his den, that they were boldly looking into the principal naval base of France, proclaiming the fact that England was ready to meet any challenge at sea. High adventure was looming up in the near future. Hornblower had the gratifying feeling, that during these past days he had tempered a weapon ready for his hand, ship and ship’s company ready for any exploit, like a swordsman knowing well the weight and balance of his sword before entering upon a duel.
Orrock appeared, touching his hat, and Hornblower listened to his report. It was fortunate that Bush in the mizzentop still had a view up the Goulet and had not descended; reports should be made independently, each officer out of the hearing of the other, but it would have been tactless to ask Bush to stand aside. Bush did not descend for several more minutes; he had methodically taken notes with paper and pencil, but Orrock could hardly be blamed for not having done so. The thirteen or fourteen ships of the line at anchor in the Roads were none of them ready for sea and three of them were missing at least one mast each. There were six frigates, three with their topmasts sent up and one with her yards crossed and sails furled.
“That will be the Loire,” commented Hornblower to Bush.
“You know about her, sir?” asked Bush.
“I know she’s there,” answered Hornblower. He would gladly have explained further, but Bush was going on with his report, and Hornblower was content to have something more added to his reputation for omniscience.
On the other hand, there was considerable activity in the roadstead. Bush had seen lighters and tenders moving about, and believed he had identified a sheer hulk, a vessel rigged solely for the purpose of putting new masts into large ships.
“Thank you, Mr Bush,” said Hornblower. “That is excellent. We must look in like this every day if possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
Constant observations would increase their information in geometrical progression – ships changing anchorage, ships sending up topmasts, ships setting up their rigging. The changes would be more significant than anything that could be deduced from a single inspection.
“Now let’s find some more fishing boats,” went on Hornblower.
“Yes, sir.”
Bush trained his glass out towards the Parquette, whose sullen black rocks, crowned by a navigation beacon, seemed to rise and fall as the Atlantic swell surged round them.
“There’s one in the lee of the reef there, sir,” said Bush.
“What’s he doing there?”
“Lobster pots, sir,” reported Bush. “Getting in his catch, I should say, sir.”
“Indeed?”
Twice in his life Hornblower had eaten lobster, both occasions being during those bleak bitter days when under the compulsion of hunger and cold he had acted as a professional gambler in the Long Rooms. Wealthy men there had called for supper, and had tossed him an invitation. It was a shock to realize that it was only a fortnight ago that that horrible period in his life had ended.
“I think,” said Hornblower, slowly, “I should like lobster for my supper tonight. Mr Poole! Let her edge down a little towards the reef. Mr Bush, I would be obliged if you would clear away the quarter-boat ready for launching.”
The contrast between these days and those was quite fantastic. These were golden April days; a strange limbo between peace and war. They were busy days, during which Hornblower had friendly chats with fishing boats’ captains and dispensed gold pieces in exchange for a small portion of their catch. He could drill his crew and he could take advantage of those exercises to learn all he could about the behaviour of the Hotspur. He could peep up the Goulet and measure the preparation of the French fleet for sea. He could study this Gulf of Iroise – the approaches to Brest, in other words – with its tides and its currents. By observing the traffic there he could obtain an insight into the difficulties of the French naval authorities in Brest.