“Very good, Mr Bush. Call all hands.”
The pipes shrilled along the decks.
“All hands! All hands! All hands to reef tops’ls. All hands!”
The men came pouring out; the cry of ‘All hands’ brought out the officers from the wardroom and the cabins and the midshipmen’s berths, hastening with their station‑bills in their pockets to make sure that the reorganised crew were properly at their stations. The captain’s orders pealed against the wind. Halliards and reef tackles were manned; the ship plunged and rolled over the grey sea under the grey sky so that a landsman might have wondered how a man could keep his footing on deck, far less venture aloft. Then in the midst of the evolution a young voice, soaring with excitement to a high treble, cut through the captain’s orders.
“‘Vast hauling there! ‘Vast hauling!”
There was a piercing urgency about the order, and obediently the men ceased to pull. Then the captain bellowed from the poop:
“Who’s that countermanding my orders?”
“It’s me, sir — Wellard.”
The young volunteer faced aft and screamed into the wind to make himself heard. From his station aft Bush saw the captain advance to the poop rail; Bush could see he was shaking with rage, his nose pointing forward as though seeking a victim.
“You’ll be sorry, Mr Wellard. Oh yes, you’ll be sorry.”
Hornblower now made his appearance at Wellard’s side. He was green with seasickness, as he had been ever since the Renown left Plymouth Sound.
“There’s a reef point caught in the reef tackle block, sir — weather side,” he hailed, and Bush, shifting his position, could see that this was so; if the men had continued to haul on the tackle, damage to the sail might easily have followed.
“What d’you mean by coming between me and a man who disobeys me?” shouted the captain. “It’s useless to try to screen him.”
“This is my station, sir,” replied Hornblower. “Mr Wellard was doing his duty.”
“Conspiracy!” replied the captain. “You two are in collusion!”
In the face of such an impossible statement Hornblower could only stand still, his white face turned towards the captain.
“You go below, Mr Wellard,” roared the captain, when it was apparent that no reply would be forthcoming, “and you too, Mr. Hornblower. I’ll deal with you in a few minutes. You hear me? Go below! I’ll teach you to conspire.”
It was a direct order, and had to be obeyed. Hornblower and Wellard walked slowly aft: it was obvious that Hornblower was rigidly refraining from exchanging a glance with the midshipman, lest a fresh accusation of conspiracy should be hurled at him. They went below while the captain watched them. As they disappeared down the companion the captain raised his big nose again.
“Send a hand to clear that reef tackle!” he ordered, in a tone as nearly normal as the wind permitted. “Haul away!”
The topsails had their second reef, and the men began to lay in off the yards. The captain stood by the poop rail looking over the ship as normal as any man could be expected to be.
“Wind’s coming aft,” he said to Buckland. “Aloft there! Send a hand to bear those backstays abreast the top‑brim. Hands to the weather‑braces. After guard! Haul in the weather main brace! Haul together, men! Well with the fore-yard! Well with the main yard! Belay every inch of that!”
The orders were given sensibly and sanely, and the hands stood waiting for the watch below to be dismissed.
“Bosun’s mate! My compliments to Mr Lomax and I’ll be glad to see him on deck.”
Mr Lomax was the purser, and the officers on the quarterdeck could hardly refrain from exchanging glances; it was hard to imagine any reason why the purser should be wanted on deck at this moment.
“You sent for me, sir?” said the purser, arriving short of breath on the quarterdeck.
“Yes, Mr Lomax. The hands have been hauling in the weather main brace.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Now we’ll splice it.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. We’ll splice the main brace. A tot of rum to every man. Aye, and to every boy.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. A tot of rum, I said. Do I have to give my orders twice? A tot of rum for every man. I’ll give you five minutes, Mr Lomax, and not a second longer.”