“Cambronne is stocking her largely with rice and water – slave rations, My Lord, but the best adapted to the purpose for that very reason.”
The slave trade had had long experience of how to keep alive a close-packed body of men.
“If Cambronne is going to take them back to France I should do nothing to hinder him,” said Hornblower. “Rather on the contrary.”
“Exactly, My Lord.”
Sharpe’s grey eyes met Hornblower’s in an expressionless stare. The presence of five hundred trained soldiers afloat in the Gulf of Mexico was very much the concern of the British Admiral commanding in chief, when the shores of the Gulf and of the Caribbean were in as much of a turmoil as at present. Bolivar and the other Spanish-American insurgents would pay a high price for their services in the present war. Or someone might be meditating the conquest of Haiti, or a piratical descent upon Havana. Any sort of filibustering expedition was possible. The actual Bourbon Government in France might be looking for a pie in which to put a finger, for that matter, a chance to snap up a colony and confront the English-speaking powers with a fait accompli.
“I’ll keep my eye on them until they are safely out of the way,” said Hornblower.
“I have called Your Lordship’s attention officially to the matter,” said Sharpe.
It would be one more drain upon Hornblower’s limited resources for the policing of the Caribbean; he already was wondering which of his few craft he could detach to observe the Gulf Coast.
“And now, My Lord,” said Sharpe, “it is my duty to discuss the details of Your Lordship’s stay here in New Orleans. I have arranged a programme of official calls for Your Lordship. Does Your Lordship speak French?”
“Yes,” said Hornblower, fighting down the urge to say, ‘My Lordship does.’
“That is excellent, because French is commonly spoken among good society here. Your Lordship will, of course, be calling upon the naval authorities here, and upon the Governor. There is an evening reception planned for Your Lordship. My carriage is, of course, at Your Lordship’s disposition.”
“That is extremely kind of you, sir.”
“No kindness at all, My Lord. It is a great pleasure to me to assist in making Your Lordship’s visit to New Orleans as enjoyable as possible. I have here a list of the prominent people Your Lordship will meet, along with brief notes regarding them. Perhaps it might be as well if I explain it to Your Lordship’s flag-lieutenant?”
“Certainly,” said Hornblower; he was able now to relax his attention a little; Gerard was a good flag-lieutenant and had supported his commander-in-chief very satisfactorily during the ten months that Hornblower had held command. He supplied some of the social flair that Hornblower was too indifferent to acquire. The business was rapidly settled.
“Very well, then, My Lord,” said Sharpe. “Now I can take my leave. I will have the pleasure of seeing Your Lordship again at the Governor’s house.”
“I am deeply obliged to you, sir.”
This city of New Orleans was an enchanting place. Hornblower was bubbling internally with excitement at the prospect of exploring it. Nor was he the only one, as appeared as soon as Sharpe had taken his leave, when Lieutenant Harcourt, captain of the Crab, intercepted Hornblower on the quarterdeck.
“Pardon, My Lord,” he said, saluting. “Are there any orders for me?”
There could be no doubt about what Harcourt had in mind. Forward of the mainmast most of the crew of Crab were congregated together looking eagerly aft – in a tiny ship like this everyone was aware of everyone else’s business, and discipline ran on lines different from those in a big ship.
“Can you trust your men to be steady on shore, Mr Harcourt?” asked Hornblower.
“Yes, My Lord.”
Hornblower looked forward again. The hands looked remarkably smart – they had been labouring on making new clothes for themselves all the way from Kingston, from the moment when it was announced that Crab would have the astonishing distinction of flying the Admiral’s flag. They were wearing neat blue frock-jumpers and white ducks and shady straw hats; Hornblower saw their self-conscious poses as he glanced towards them – they knew perfectly well what was being discussed. These were peacetime sailors, voluntarily enlisted: Hornblower had had twenty years of wartime service with pressed crews who could never be trusted not to desert, and even now he had consciously to adjust his mind to the change.