“Thank you, My Lord.”
“Now about this drogue. What do you suggest, Sir Thomas?”
“It need be no more than a large sea anchor. A bolt of No 1 canvas, sewn into a funnel, one end larger than the other.”
“It would have to be reinforced even so. Not even No 1 canvas could stand the strain with Estrella going at twelve knots.”
“Yes, My Lord, I was sure of that. Bolt-ropes sewn in in plenty. That would be easy enough, of course. We have a spare bob-stay chain on board. That could be sewn round the mouth of the drogue -”
“And could be attached to the Estrella to take the main strain.”
“Yes, My Lord. That was what I thought.”
“It would serve to keep the drogue under water out of sight as well.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Fell found Hornblower’s quickness in grasping the technical points vastly encouraging. His nervousness was now replaced by enthusiasm.
“And where would you propose to attach this drogue, Sir Thomas?”
“I was thinking – Spendlove suggested, My Lord – that it might be passed over one of the lower pintles of the rudder.”
“It would be likely to tear the rudder clean away when exerting its full force.”
“That would serve our purpose equally well, My Lord.”
“Of course, I understand.”
Fell walked across the cabin to where the great cabin window stood open wide.
“You can’t see her from here as we lie now, My Lord,” he said. “But you can hear her.”
“And smell her,” said Hornblower, standing beside him.
“Yes, My Lord. They’re hosing her out at present. But you can hear her, as I said.”
Over the water came very plainly to them, along with the miasma of her stench, the continued wailing of the wretched slaves; Hornblower fancied he could even hear the clanking of the leg irons.
“Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, “I think it would be very desirable if you would put a boat overside to row guard round the ship tonight.”
“Row guard, My Lord?” Fell was not very quick in the uptake. In the peace-time Navy it was unnecessary to take elaborate precautions against desertion.
“Oh, yes, most certainly. Half these men would be overside swimming for the shore as soon as night falls. Surely you understand that, Sir Thomas. We must restrain their passion to desert from this brutal service. And in any case a guard-boat will prevent the sale of liquor through the gun-ports.”
“Er – yes, I suppose so, My Lord.” But Fell clearly had not grasped the implications of the suggestion, and Hornblower had to elaborate.
“Let us set a boat-rowing guard now, before nightfall. I can explain to the authorities why it is necessary. Then when the time comes -”
“We’ll have a boat ready in the water!” Enlightenment had broken in on Fell at last.
“Attracting no attention,” supplemented Hornblower.
“Of course!”
The red sunset showed Fell’s face lit up with animation.
“It would be best if you gave that order soon, Sir Thomas. But meanwhile there’s little time to spare. We must have this drogue in the making before we go ashore.”
“Shall I give the orders, My Lord?”
“Spendlove has figures at his fingertips. He can work out the measurements. Would you be kind enough to send for him, Sir Thomas?”
The cabin was soon crowded with people as the work was put in hand. Spendlove came first; after him Gerard was sent for, and then Sefton, the first-lieutenant. Next came the sail-maker, the armourer, the carpenter, and the boatswain. The sail-maker was an elderly Swede who had been forced into the British Navy twenty years ago in some conscienceless action of the press gang, and who had remained in the service ever since. His wrinkled face broke into a grin, like a shattered window, as the beauties of the scheme dawned upon him when he was told about it. He just managed to restrain himself from slapping his thigh with glee when he remembered he was in the august presence of his Admiral and his captain. Spendlove was busy sketching out with pencil and paper a drawing of the drogue, with Gerard looking over his shoulder.