Lieutenant Hornblower. C. S. Forester

“The orders said it was only — only temporary,” said Bush, not quite able to bring out the words ‘pro tempore’ with any aplomb.

“Time enough to make out the permanent orders in due form,” said Sankey. “It is from this moment that Cogshill’s pay is increased from ten shillings to two pounds a day.”

The Negro oarsmen of the hospital boat were bending to their work, sending the launch skimming over the glittering water, and Sankey turned his head to look at the squadron lying at anchor in the distance — a three‑decker and a couple of frigates.

“That’s the Buckler,” he said, pointing. “Lucky for Cogshill his ship was in here at this moment. There’ll be plenty of promotion in the admiral’s gift now. You lost two lieutenants in the Renown?”

“Yes,” said Bush. Roberts had been cut in two by a shot from Samaná during the first attack, and Smith had been killed at the post of duty defending the quarterdeck when the prisoners rose.

“A captain and two lieutenants,” said Sankey meditatively. “Sawyer had been insane for some time, I understand?”

“Yes.”

“And yet they killed him?”

“Yes.”

“A chapter of accidents. It might have been better for your first lieutenant if he had met the same fate.”

Bush did not make any reply to that remark; even though the same thought had occurred to him. Buckland had been taken prisoner in his bed, and he would never be able to live that down.

“I think,” said Sankey, judicially, “he will never be able to look for promotion. Unfortunate for him, seeing that he could otherwise have expected it as a result of your successes in Santo Domingo, on which so far I have not congratulated you, sir. My felicitations.”

“Thank you,” said Bush.

“A resounding success. Now it will be interesting to see what use Sir Richard — may his name be ever revered — will make of all these vacancies. Cogshill to the Renown. That seems certain. Then a commander must be promoted to the Buckler. The ineffable joy of post rank! There are four commanders on this station — I wonder which of them will enter through the pearly gates? You have been on this station before, I believe, sir?”

“Not for three years,” said Bush.

“Then you can hardly be expected to be up to date regarding the relative standing of the officers here in Sir Richard’s esteem. Then a lieutenant will be made commander. No doubt about who that will be.”

Sankey spared Bush a glance, and Bush asked the question which was expected of him.

“Who?”

“Dutton. First lieutenant of the flagship. Are you acquainted with him?”

“I think so. Lanky fellow with a scar on his cheek?”

“Yes. Sir Richard believes that the sun rises and sets on him. And I believe that Lieutenant Dutton — Commander as he soon will be — is of the same opinion.”

Bush had no comment to make, and he would not have made one if he had. Surgeon Sankey was quite obviously a scatter‑brained old gossip, and quite capable of repeating any remarks made to him. He merely nodded — as much of a nod as his sore neck and his recumbent position allowed — and waited for Sankey to continue his monologue.

“So Dutton will be a commander. That’ll mean vacancies for three lieutenants. Sir Richard will be able to gladden the hearts of three of his friends by promoting their sons from midshipmen. Assuming, that is to say, that Sir Richard has as many as three friends.”

“Oars! Bowman!” said the coxswain of the launch; they were rounding the tip of the jetty. The boat ran gently along side and was secured; Sankey climbed out and supervised the lifting of the stretcher. With steady steps the Negro bearers began to carry the stretcher up the road towards the hospital, while the heat of the island closed round Bush like the warm water in a bath.

“Let me see,” said Sankey, falling into step beside the stretcher. “We had just promoted three midshipmen to lieutenant. So among the warrant ranks there will be three vacancies. But let me see — I fancy you had casualties in the Renown?”