“Midshipman?” said Hornblower.
Strings of coloured flags soared up Nonsuch’s halliards; it was good practice for the signal midshipman to try to spell out ‘The curfew tolls the knell of parting day’ with the fewest possible number of flag hoists. With his telescope pointed the midshipman read off Raven’s reply.
“The —” he read, “l — o — w — must be ‘blowing’. No, it’s ‘lowing’, whatever he means by that. H — e — r — d. Herd. Two — five. That’s ‘wind’, and ‘s’. That ‘winds’ — S — l — o —”
So Cole in the Raven was at least familiar with Gray’s Elegy, and whoever was responsible for the flag hoists on board her was ingenious enough to use the code hoist for ‘winds’. As Hornblower expected, he used the code hoist ‘lee’ for ‘lea’ as well, thereby saving one signal flag.
“The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lee, sir,” reported the puzzled midshipman.
“Very good. Acknowledge.”
All these innumerable signals between battleship and sloops must be visible from the shore and exciting their interest. Hornblower sent up another signal under Lotus’s number — ‘The ploughman homeward plods his weary way’ — only to receive the puzzled reply ‘Signal not understood’. Purvis, the first lieutenant of the Lotus, at present in command, was obviously not very bright, or perhaps not very well read. What in the world, at that rate, he was making of all this, was beyond even Hornblower’s imagination, although the thought of it brought a smile to his lips.
“Cancel the signal, then,” he ordered, “and substitute ‘Report immediately number of red-haired married men on board’.”
Hornblower waited until the reply came; he could have wished that Purvis had not been so literal-minded and had been able to think up an answer which should combine the almost incompatible qualities of deference and wit, instead of merely sending the bald reply ‘Five’. Then he turned to business.
“Signal to both sloops,” he ordered. “‘Advance on boom in threatening manner avoiding action’.”
In the dwindling daylight he watched the two vessels move down as though to attack. They wheeled, edged into the wind, and fell away again. Twice Hornblower saw a puff of smoke and heard, echoing over the water, the dull flat boom of a twenty-four-pounder as a gunboat tried the range. Then, while there was just light enough for the signal to be read, he hoisted ‘Discontinue the action after half an hour’. He had done all he could to attract the enemy’s attention to this end of the bay, the only exit. The garrison ought to be quite certain now that the raiding boats would attempt to escape by this route. Probably the garrison would anticipate a rush in the first light of dawn, assisted by an attack by the big ships from outside. He had done all he could, and it only remained now to go to bed and spend the rest of the night in tranquillity, if that were possible.
Naturally, it was impossible, with the fate of a hundred and fifty seamen at stake, with his own reputation for good fortune and ingenuity at stake. Half an hour after he had got into bed Hornblower found himself wishing that he had ordered three junior officers to join him in a game of whist until dawn. He dallied with the idea of getting up and doing so now, but put it aside in the certainty that if he should do so now everyone would know that he had tried to go to sleep and had failed. He could only turn over stoically and force himself to stay in bed until dawn came to release him.
When he came on deck the pearly mist of the Baltic morning was making the vague outline of visible objects vaguer yet. There was every promise of a fine day, wind moderate, backing a little. Bush was already on deck — Hornblower knew that, before he went up, because he had heard Bush’s wooden leg thumping over his head — and at first sight of him Hornblower hoped that his own face did not show the same signs of sleeplessness and anxiety. They had at least the effect of bracing him up to conceal his own anxiety as he returned Bush’s salute.