The Major took his leave after a final reference to the Captain of the Port and the watering of the ship. Hornblower explained briefly to Fell.
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
Here came another visitor, up the port side of the ship, a squat, heavily-built man in dazzling white linen, wearing a broad-brimmed hat which he took off with scrupulous politeness as he reached the quarterdeck. Hornblower watched him address himself to the midshipman of the watch, and saw the latter hesitate and look round him while trying to make up his mind as to whether he should grant the request.
“Very well, midshipman,” said Hornblower. “What does the gentleman want?”
He could guess very easily what the gentleman wanted. This might be an opportunity of making contact with the shore other than through official channels – something always desirable, and peculiarly so at this moment. The visitor came forward; a pair of bright, quizzical blue eyes studied Hornblower closely as he did so.
“My Lord?” he said. He at least could recognise an Admiral’s uniform when he saw it.
“Yes. I am Admiral Lord Hornblower.”
“I fear to trouble you with my business, My Lord.” He spoke English like an Englishman, like a Tynesider, perhaps, but obviously as if he had not spoken it for years.
“What is it?”
“I came on board to address myself to your steward, My Lord, and to the president of the wardroom mess, and to the purser. The principal ship chandler of the port. Beef cattle, My Lord, chickens, eggs, fresh bread, fruits, vegetables.”
“What is your name?”
“Eduardo Stuart – Edward Stuart, My Lord. Second mate of the brig Columbine, out of London. Captured back in 1806, My Lord, and brought in here as a prisoner. I made friends here, and when the Dons changed sides in 1808 I set up as ship chandler, and here I’ve been ever since.”
Hornblower studied the speaker as keenly as the speaker was studying him. He could guess at much of what was left unsaid. He could guess at a fortunate marriage, and probably at a change of religion – unless Stuart had been born a Catholic, as was possible enough.
“And I am at your service, My Lord,” went on Stuart, meeting his gaze without flinching.
“In a moment I’ll let you speak to the purser,” said Hornblower. “But tell me first, what impression has our arrival made here?”
Stuart’s face crinkled into a grin.
“The whole town was out watching your chase of the Estrella del Sur, My Lord.”
“I guessed as much.”
“They all rejoiced when they saw her escape you. And then when they saw you coming in they manned the batteries.”
“Indeed?”
The Royal Navy’s reputation for prompt action, both daring and high-handed, must still be very much alive, if there could be even a momentary fear that a single frigate would attempt to snatch a prize from out of the shelter of a port as well guarded as San Juan.
“In ten minutes your name was being spoken in all the streets, My Lord.”
Hornblower’s keen glance reassured him that he was not being paid an idle compliment.
“And what is the Estrella going to do now?”
“She has only come in to land a few sickly slaves and renew with water, My Lord. It’s a poor market for slaves here. She sails for Havana at once, as soon as she can be sure of your movements, My Lord.”
“At once?”
“She’ll sail with the land breeze at dawn tomorrow, My Lord, unless you are lying outside the port.”
“I don’t expect I shall be,” said Hornblower.
“Then she’ll sail without a doubt, My Lord. She’ll want to get her cargo landed and sold in Havana before Spain signs the Convention.”
“I understand,” said Hornblower.
Now what was this? Here were the old symptoms, as recognisable as ever, the quickened heartbeat, the feeling of warmth under the skin, the general restlessness. There was something just below the horizon of his mind, some stirring of an idea. And within a second the idea was up over the horizon, vague at present, like a hazy landfall, but as certain and as reassuring as any landfall. And beyond, still over the horizon, were other ideas, only to be guessed at. He could not help glancing over at the Estrella, sizing up the tactical situation, seeking further inspiration there, testing what he already had in mind.