There was another drowning as a final item; a name — a combination of names — caught Bush’s attention so that he read the paragraph with a quickened pulse.
Last night the jolly boat of His Majesty’s cutter Rapid, in the Revenue service, while returning in the fog from delivering a message on shore, was swept by the ebb tide athwart the hawse of a merchantman anchored off Fisher’s Nose, and capsized. Two seamen and Mr Henry Wellard, Midshipman, were drowned. Mr Wellard was a most promising young man recently appointed to the Rapid, having served as a volunteer in His Majesty’s ship Renown.
Bush read the passage and pondered over it. He thought it important to the extent that he read the remainder of the Naval Chronicle without taking in any of it; and it was with surprise that he realised he would have to leave quickly in order to catch the carrier’s waggon back to Chichester.
A good many people were coming into the Rooms now; the door was continually opening to admit them. Some of them were naval officers with whom he had a nodding acquaintance. All of them made straight for the fire for warmth before beginning to play. And Hornblower was on his feet now; apparently the rubber was finished, and Bush took the opportunity to catch his eye and give an indication that he wished to leave. Hornblower came over to him. It was with regret that they shook hands.
“When do we meet again?” asked Hornblower.
“I come in each month to draw my half pay,” said Bush. “I usually spend the night because of the carrier’s waggon. Perhaps we could dine — ?”
“You can always find me here,” said Hornblower. “But — do you have a regular place to stay?”
“I stay where it’s convenient,” replied Bush.
They both of them knew that meant that he stayed where it was cheap.
“I lodge in Highbury Street. I’ll write the address down.” Hornblower turned to a desk in the corner and wrote on a sheet of paper which he handed to Bush “Would you care to share my room when next you come? My landlady is a sharp one. No doubt she will make a charge for a cot for you, but even so —”
“It’ll save money,” said Bush, putting the paper in his pocket; his grin as he spoke masked the sentiment in his next words. “And I’ll see more of you.”
“By George, yes,” said Hornblower. Words were not adequate.
Jenkins had come sidling up and was holding Bush’s greatcoat for him to put on. There was that in Jenkins’ manner which told Bush that gentlemen when helped into their coats at the Long Rooms presented Jenkins with a shilling. Bush decided at first that he would be eternally damned before he parted with a shilling, and then he changed his mind. Maybe Hornblower would give Jenkins a shilling if he did not. He felt in his pocket and handed the coin over.
“Thank you, sir,” said Jenkins.
With Jenkins out of earshot again Bush lingered, wondering how to frame his question.
“That was hard luck on young Wellard,” he said, tentatively.
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
“D’you think,” went on Bush, plunging desperately, “he had anything to do with the captain’s falling down the hatchway?”
“I couldn’t give an opinion,” answered Hornblower. “I’ didn’t know enough about it.”
“But —” began Bush, and checked himself again; he knew by the look on Hornblower’s face that it was no use asking further questions.
The Marquis had come into the room and was looking round in unobtrusive inspection. Bush saw him take note of the several men who were not playing, and of Hornblower standing in idle gossip by the door. Bush saw the meaning glance which he directed at Hornblower, and fell into sudden panic.
“Goodbye,” he said, hastily.
The black northeast wind that greeted him in the street was no more cruel than the rest of the world.
Chapter XIX
It was a short, hard‑faced woman who opened the door in reply to Bush’s knock, and she looked at Bush even harder when he asked for Lieutenant Hornblower.
“Top of the house,” she said, at last, and left Bush to find his way up.