Then the wave of black reaction ebbed away. He had taken a calculated risk, and his calculation had proved exact. It would be a long time before the mutineers could clear up their misunderstanding with the French authorities — Hornblower could imagine the messengers hurrying at this moment to warn the coastal defences at Honfleur and Caen — even if eventually they should succeed in doing so. He had turned the mutineers’ position, cut off their retreat. He had bearded Bonaparte under the batteries of his own capital river. And there was the prize he had taken; at least a thousand pounds, his share would be, when the prize-money came to be reckoned up, and a thousand pounds was a welcome sum of money, a gratifying sum. Barbara and he would find it useful.
Emotion and excitement had left him tired. He was about to tell Freeman that he was going below, and then he checked himself. It would be an unnecessary speech; if Freeman could not find him on deck he would know perfectly well that he was in his cabin. He dragged himself wearily down to his cot.
CHAPTER VII
“Mr. Freeman’s respects, sir,” said Brown, “an’ he said to tell you that day’s just breaking, fairly clear, sir. Wind’s backed to sou’-by-west, sir, during the night, blowin’ moderate. We’re hove-to, us an’ the prize, an’ it’s the last of the flood-tide now, sir.”
“Very good,” said Hornblower, rolling out of his cot. He was still heavy with sleep, and the tiny cabin seemed stuffy, as well as chilly, although the stern window was open.
“I’ll have my bath,” said Hornblower, reaching a sudden decision. “Go and get the wash-deck pump rigged.”
He felt unclean; although this was November in the Channel he could not live through another day without a bath. His ear caught some surprised and jocular comments from the hands rigging the pump as he came up through the hatchway, but he paid them no attention. He threw off his dressing-gown, and a puzzled and nervous seaman, in the half-light, turned the jet of the canvas hose upon him while another worked the pump. The bitterly cold sea-water stung as it hit his naked skin, and he leaped and danced and turned about grotesquely, gasping. The seamen did not realise it when he wanted the jet stopped, and when he tried to escape from it they followed him up across the deck.
“Avast, there!” he yelled in desperation, half frozen and half drowned, and the merciless stream stopped.
Brown threw the big towel round him, and he scrubbed his tingling skin, while he jumped and shivered with the stimulus of the cold.
“I’d be frozen for a week if I tried that, sir,” said Freeman, who had been an interested spectator.
“Yes,” said Hornblower, discouraging conversation.
His skin glowed delightfully as he put on his clothes in his cabin with the window shut, and his shivering ceased. He drank thirstily of the steaming coffee which Brown brought him, revelling in the pleasant and unexpected feeling of well-being that filled him. He ran lightheartedly on deck again, The morning was already brighter; the captured Indiaman could now be made out, hove-to half a gunshot to leeward.
“Orders, Sir Horatio?” said Freeman, touching his hat.
Hornblower swept his glance round, playing for time. He had been culpably negligent of business; he had given no thought to his duty since he woke — since he went below to sleep, for that matter. He should order the prize back to England at once, but he could not do that without taking the opportunity of sending a written report back with her, and at this moment he simply hated the thought of labouring over a report.
“The prisoners, sir,” prompted Freeman.
Oh God, he had forgotten the prisoners. They would have to be interrogated and note made of what they had to say. Hornblower felt bone-lazy as well as full of wellbeing — an odd combination.
“They might have plenty to say, sir,” went on Freeman, remorselessly. “The pilot talks some English, and we had him in the wardroom last night. He says Boney’s been licked again. At a place called Leipzig, or some name like that. He says the Russians’ll be over the Rhine in a week. Boney’s back in Paris already. Maybe it’s the end of the war.”