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Hornblower in the West Indies. C. S. Forester

“Do you realise the cost of all this, My Lord?” blared Hooper. “Every white man who can sit a horse is out. My last reserve – the Highlanders – are bivouacked at the roadside. What that will mean in malaria and yellow fever I do not dare guess. For two weeks every man of the garrison except for them has been out guarding fishing boats and watching beaches at your request. The sick-lists are enormous. And now this!”

“My instructions, and I believe Your Excellency’s as well, laid the greatest stress on the suppression of piracy, sir.”

“I don’t need any whipper-snapper jumped up Rear-Admiral to interpret my instructions,” roared Hooper. “What sort of bargain did you make with these pirates of yours?”

There it was. It was not an easy thing to explain to a man in this mood.

“I made no actual bargain, Your Excellency.”

“Hard to believe you had that much sense.”

“But my honour is pledged.”

“Your honour pledged? To whom? The pirates?”

“No, Your Excellency. To my secretary, Spendlove.”

“What was the pledge?”

“He was retained as a hostage when I was set free.”

“What did you promise him?”

What? He had said something about thinking about him.

“I made no verbal promise, Your Excellency. But one was implied, undoubtedly.”

“What was implied?”

“That I should set him free.”

“And how did you think you could do that?”

Nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns.

“I was released in order that I might solicit from Your Excellency pardons under seal for the pirates.”

“Pardons! Par -” Hooper could not even finish the word a second time. He could only gobble like a turkey for several seconds before with a gulp he was able to continue. “Are you insane, My Lord?”

“That was why I was released. And that is why Spendlove is still retained.”

“Then this Spendlove must take his chance.”

“Your Excellency!”

“Do you think I could grant pardons to a gang of pirates? What d’ye mean? So that they can live like lords on their booty? Rolling in coaches round the island? A fine way that would be of suppressing piracy! D’ye want the whole West Indies in a turmoil? Have you lost your senses?”

The effect of this speech was in no way modified by the fact that Hornblower had guessed long before, that Hooper would argue exactly along this line.

“I fully see the difficulty of the situation, Your Excellency.”

“I’m glad you do. You know the hiding-place of these pirates?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. It is a very secure place.”

“No matter. It can be reduced, of course. A few hangings will quiet this island down again.”

What in the world was there that he could do or could say? The sentence he framed in his mind was patently absurd to him even before he uttered it.

“I shall have to go back there before you take any steps, Your Excellency.”

“Go back there?” Hooper’s eyes almost came out of their sockets as the implications of what Hornblower was saying dawned upon him. “What new foolery do you have in mind?”

“I must go back and join Spendlove if Your Excellency does not see fit to grant the pardons.”

“Rubbish! I can grant no pardons. I cannot. I will not.”

“Then I have no alternative, Your Excellency.”

“Rubbish, I said. Rubbish! You made no promise. You said yourself that you gave no pledge.”

“I am the judge of that, Your Excellency.”

“You’re in no condition to judge anything at present, if ever you were. Can you imagine for one moment I’ll let you tie my hands like this?”

“No one regrets the necessity more than I do, Your Excellency.”

“Necessity? Are you dictating to me? I’ll have you know that I’m your superior officer as well as Governor of this island. One more word and you’ll be under arrest, My Lord. Let’s hear no more of this nonsense.”

“Your Excellency -”

“Not one more word, I said. This Spendlove is one of the King’s servants. He must run the risks of his position, even though he is only a secretary.”

“But -”

“I order you to keep silence, My Lord. You have fair warning. Tomorrow when you’re rested we can plan to smoke out this wasps’ nest.”

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Categories: C S Forester
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