“Thank God, My Lord,” said Hough. “What happened?”
Hornblower was tempted to answer, ‘Mr Colston will tell you’, but he made himself make a more sensible reply. Hough uttered the expected platitudes.
“I must go on to the Governor at once,” said Hornblower. “There is Spendlove to think of.”
“Spendlove, My Lord? Oh, yes, of course, your secretary.”
“He is still in the hands of the pirates,” said Hornblower.
“Indeed, My Lord?” replied Hough.
No one seemed to have a care about Spendlove, except Lucy Hough, presumably.
Here was the house and the courtyard; lights were gleaming in every window.
“Please come in, My Lord,” said Hough. “Your Lordship must be in need of refreshment.”
He had eaten yams and salt pork some time that morning; he felt no hunger now.
“I must go on to Government House,” he said. “I can waste no time.”
“If Your Lordship insists -”
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
“I will go and have the horses put to, then, My Lord.”
Hornblower found himself alone in the brightly-lit sitting-room. He felt that if he threw himself into one of the vast chairs there he would never get up again.
“My Lord! My Lord!”
It was Lucy Hough fluttering into the room, her skirts flying with her haste. He would have to tell her about Spendlove.
“Oh, you’re safe! You’re safe!”
What was this? The girl had flung herself on her knees before him. She had one of his hands in both hers, and was kissing it frantically. He drew back, he tried to snatch his hand away, but she clung on to it, and followed him on her knees, still kissing it.
“Miss Lucy!”
“I care for nothing as long as you’re safe!” she said, looking up at him and still clasping his hand; tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve been through torment today. You’re not hurt? Tell me! Speak to me!”
This was horrible. She was pressing her lips, her cheek, against his hand again.
“Miss Lucy! Please! Compose yourself!”
How could a girl of seventeen act like this towards a man of forty-five? Was she not enamoured of Spendlove? But perhaps that was the person she was thinking about.
“I will see that Mr Spendlove is safe,” he said.
“Mr Spendlove? I hope he’s safe. But it’s you – you – you -”
“Miss Lucy! You must not say these things! Stand up, please, I beg you!”
Somehow he got her to her feet.
“I couldn’t bear it!” she said. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you!”
“There, there!” said Hornblower, as soothingly as he knew how.
“The carriage will be ready in two minutes, My Lord,” said Hough’s voice from the door. “A glass of wine and a bite before you start?”
Hough came in with a smile.
“Thank you, sir,” said Hornblower, struggling with embarrassment.
“This child has been in a rare way since this morning,” said Hough, indulgently. “These young people – She was the only person in the island, I fancy, who gave a thought to the secretary as well as to the Commander-in-Chief.”
“Er – yes. These young people,” said Hornblower.
The butler entered with a tray at that moment.
“Pour His Lordship a glass of wine, Lucy, my dear,” said Hough, and then to Hornblower, “Mrs Hough has been considerably prostrated, but she will be down in a moment.”
“Please do not discommode her, I beg of you,” said Hornblower. His hand was shaking as he reached for the glass. Hough took up carving knife and fork and set about carving the cold chicken.
“Excuse me, please,” said Lucy.
She turned and ran from the room as quickly as she had entered it, sobbing wildly.
“I had no idea the attachment was so strong,” said Hough.
“Nor had I,” said Hornblower. He had gulped down the whole glass of wine in his agitation. He addressed himself to the cold chicken with all the calm he could muster.
“The carriage is at the door, sir,” announced the butler.
“I’ll take these with me,” said Hornblower, a slice of bread in one hand and a chicken wing in the other. “Would it be troubling you too much to ask you to send a messenger ahead of me to warn His Excellency of my coming?”