“If you could give me notice of when you intend to sail, sir – I mean My Lord,” said Harcourt.
“Until dawn tomorrow in any case,” said Hornblower coming to a sudden decision; his day was full until then.
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
Would the grogshops of New Orleans waterfront be any different from the grogshops of Kingston or Port of Spain?
“Now perhaps I can have my breakfast, Mr Gerard,” said Hornblower. “Unless you have any objection?”
“Aye aye, My Lord,” answered Gerard, carefully ignoring the sarcasm. He had long learned that his Admiral objected to nothing in the world as much as having to be active before breakfast.
It was after breakfast that a coloured man, trotting barefooted along the pier, came bearing on his head a basket of fruit which he handed in at the gangway at the moment when Hornblower was about to start off on his official round of calls.
“There’s a note with it, My Lord,” said Gerard. “Shall I open it?”
“Yes.”
“It is from Mr Sharpe,” reported Gerard, after breaking the seal, and then some seconds later, “I think you had better read this yourself, My Lord.”
Hornblower took the thing impatiently.
My Lord [read the note],
I have imposed upon myself the pleasure of sending some fruit to Your Lordship.
It is my duty to inform Your Lordship that I have just received information that the freight which Count Cambronne brought out here from France, and which has been lying in bond in charge of the United States Customs Services, will shortly be transferred by lighter through the agency of a bonded carrier to the Daring. As Your Lordship will, of course, understand, this is an indication that the Daring will be sailing soon. My information is that the amount of bonded freight is very considerable, and I am endeavouring to discover in what it consists. Perhaps Your Lordship might, from Your Lordship’s coign of vantage, find an opportunity of observing the nature of this freight.
I am, with great respect,
Your Lordship’s humble and obedient servant,
Cloudesley Sharpe,
HBM’s Consul-General at New Orleans.
Now what could Cambronne have possibly brought from France in large amount that could be legitimately needed for the purpose he had avowed when he chartered the Daring? Not personal effects, certainly. Not food or liquor – he could pick those up cheaply in New Orleans. Then what? Warm-weather clothing would be a possible explanation. Those Guardsmen might well need it when returning to France from the Gulf of Mexico. It was possible. But a French General, with five hundred men of the Imperial Guard at his disposal, would bear the closest watching when the Caribbean was in such a turmoil. It would be a great help to know what kind of freight he was shipping.
“Mr Harcourt!”
“Sir – My Lord!”
“I would like your company in the cabin for a moment, if you please.”
The young lieutenant stood at attention in the cabin a little apprehensively waiting to hear what his Admiral had to say.
“This isn’t a reprimand, Mr Harcourt,” said Hornblower testily. “Not even an admonition.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” said Harcourt, relaxing.
Hornblower took him to the cabin window and pointed out through it, just as Sharpe had done previously.
“That’s the Daring,” he said. “An ex-privateer, now under charter to a French General.”
Harcourt looked his astonishment.
“That is the case,” went on Hornblower. “And today she will be taking on some cargo out of bond. It will be brought round to her out of bond by lighter.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“I want to know as much about that cargo as possible.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Naturally, I do not want the world to know that I am interested. I want nobody to know unnecessarily.”
“Yes, My Lord. I could use a telescope from here and see a good deal, with luck.”
“Very true. You can take note of whether it is bales or boxes or bags. How many there are of each. From the tackle employed you can guess at the weights. You can do all that.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”
“Make careful note of all you see.”
“Aye aye, My Lord.”