It was late afternoon before the expected interruption came.
“Signal from Porta Coeli, sir! Eighteen — fifty-one — ten. That’s friendly ships in sight, bearing nor’west.”
“Very good. Ask their numbers.”
This must be the reinforcements sent by Pellew. The signal hands bent on the flags and hauled away at the halliards; it was several minutes before the midshipman noted the reply and translated it by reference to the list.
“Nonsuch, 74, Captain Bush, sir.”
“Bush, by God!”
The exclamation leaped uncontrolled from Hornblower’s lips; the devils that surrounded him were chased away as though by holy water at the thought of his old staunch matter-of-fact friend being only just over the horizon. Of course Pellew would send Bush if he were available, knowing the friendship that had so long existed between him and Hornblower.
“Camilla, 36, Captain Howard, sir.”
He knew nothing about Howard whatever. He looked at the list — a captain of less than two years’ seniority. Presumably Pellew had selected him as junior to Bush.
“Very good. Reply — ‘Commodore to —'”
“Porta’s still signalling, begging your pardon, sir. ‘Nonsuch to Commodore. Have — on board — three hundred — marines — above — complement’.”
Good for Pellew. He had stripped his squadron to give Hornblower a landing force that could make itself felt. Three hundred marines, and the Nonsuch’s detachment as well, and a body of seamen. He could march five hundred men into Le Havre should the opportunity arise.
“Very good. Make ‘Commodore to Nonsuch and Camilla. Delighted to have you under my command’.”
Hornblower looked again over at Le Havre. He looked up at the sky, he gauged the strength of the wind, remembered the state of the tide, calculated the approach of night. Over there Lebrun must be bringing his plans to fruition, tonight if at all. He must be ready to strike his blow.
“Make ‘Commodore to all vessels. Join me here after dark. Night signal two lanterns horizontally at fore yard-arms’.”
“— fore yardarms. Aye aye, sir,” echoed the midshipman, scribbling on his slate.
It was good to see Bush again, to shake his hand in welcome as he hoisted himself in the darkness onto the Flame’s deck. It was good to sit in the stuffy little cabin with Bush and Howard and Freeman as he told them about his plans for the morrow. It was wonderful to be planning action after that day of horrible introspection. Bush looked at him closely with his deep-set eyes.
“You’ve been busy, sir, since you came to sea again.”
“Of course,” said Hornblower.
The last few days and nights had been a turmoil; even after the recapture of the Flame the business of reorganisation, the sessions with Lebrun, the writing of the despatches had all been exhausting.
“Too busy, if you’ll pardon me, sir,” went on Bush. “It was too soon for you to resume duty.”
“Nonsense,” protested Hornblower. “I had almost a year’s leave.”
“Sick leave, sir. After typhus. And since then —”
“Since then,” interjected Howard, a handsome, dark, young-looking man, “a cutting-out action. A battle. Three prizes taken. Two vessels sunk. An invasion planned. A midnight council of war.”
Hornblower felt suddenly irritated.
“Are you gentlemen trying to tell me,” he demanded, glowering round at them, “that I’m unfit for service?”
They quailed before his anger.
“No, sir,” said Bush.
“Then be so good as to keep your opinions to yourselves.”
It was hard luck on Bush, who, after all, was only making a kindly inquiry about his friend’s health. Hornblower knew it, and be knew how desperately unfair it was to make Bush pay for the miseries Hornblower had suffered that day. Yet he could not resist the temptation for the moment. He swept his glance round them again, forcing them to drop their gaze to the deck, and he had no sooner done it, no sooner obtained for himself this pitiful bit of self-gratification, than he regretted it and sought to make amends.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I spoke in haste. We must all have the most complete confidence in each other when we go into action tomorrow. Will you forgive me?”
They mumbled back at him, Bush profoundly embarrassed at receiving an apology from a man who, in his opinion, was free to say what he liked to anyone.