Lord Hornblower. C. S. Forester

Here was Hau beside him now.

“Monseigneur wishes to know,” he said, “whether your business on deck is very urgent. His Royal Highness has a toast to propose, and wishes that you could join in it.”

“I’ll come,” said Hornblower.

He took a last glance aft at Caudebec, vanishing round the bend, and hurried below. The big extemporised cabin was parti-coloured with sunlight coming in through the open ports. Angoulême caught sight of him as he entered, and rose to his feet, crouching under the low deck-beams.

“To His Royal Highness the Prince Regent!” he said, lifting his glass. The toast was drunk, and everyone looked to Hornblower for the proper response.

“His Most Christian Majesty!” said Hornblower, and when the ceremony was completed raised his glass again.

“His Most Christian Majesty’s Regent in Normandy, Monseigneur His Royal Highness the Duke d’Angoulême!”

The toast was drunk amid a roar of acclamation. There was something dramatic and painful about being down here below decks drinking toasts while an Empire was falling in ruins outside. The Porta Coeli was sailing as close to the wind as she could lie, so Hornblower guessed from the feel of the vessel under his feet and the sound of her passage through the water. Freeman on deck would have difficulty in weathering the next bend — he had noticed before he came down that the reach they had entered trended a little into the wind. Hornblower heard Freeman roar a fresh order on deck, and was consumed with restlessness. Down here it was like being with a nursery party of children, enjoying themselves while the adults attended to the management of the world. He made his apologetic bow again and slipped out to go on deck.

It was as he thought; The Porta Coeli was as close-hauled as she would lie, almost closer. Her sails were shivering and her motion sluggish, and the bend in the river that would give her relief was a full half-mile farther ahead. Freeman looked up at the flapping sails and shook his head.

“You’ll have to club-haul her, Mr. Freeman,” said Hornblower. To tack in that narrow channel, even with the tide behind them, would be too tricky an operation altogether.

“Aye aye, sir,” said Freeman.

He stood for a second judging his distances; the hands at the sheets, in no doubt about the delicacy of the ensuing manoeuvres, waiting keyed up for the rapid succession of orders that would follow. Filling the sails for a moment gave them plenty of way again, although it brought them perilously close to the leeward shore. Then in came the sheets, over went the helm, and the Porta Coeli snatched a few yards into the wind, losing most of her way in the process. Then out went the sheets, up came the helm a trifle, and she gathered way again, close-hauled yet edging down perceptibly towards the lee shore.

“Well done,” said Hornblower. He wanted to add a word of advice to the effect that it would be as well not to leave it so late next time, but he glanced at Freeman sizing up the distances and decided it was unnecessary. Freeman wanted none of the brig’s way lost this time. The moment the sails flapped he threw them back, put his helm over, and this time gained the full width of the river into the wind. Looking aft, Hornblower saw that the Flame was following her consort’s example. The lee shore seemed to come to meet them; it seemed a very short time before the manoeuvre would have to be repeated, and Hornblower was relieved to see that the bend was appreciably nearer.

It was at that moment that the Duke’s head appeared above the coaming as he climbed the little companion, and the royal party began to swarm on deck again. Freeman looked with despair at Hornblower, who took the necessary decision. He fixed the nearest courtier — the equerry, it happened to be — with a look that cut short the laughing speech he was addressing to the lady at his side.

“It is not convenient for His Royal Highness and his suite to be on deck at present,” Hornblower said loudly.

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