Exultation and inspiration ended abruptly, and Hornblower felt suddenly weak and ill. He knew that if he did not dismount quickly he would fall from his saddle. He took hold of the pommel and kicked his right foot clear of the stirrup, swung his leg over, and then as his feet touched ground the ground came up to meet him. He only recovered some indefinite number of minutes later, to find himself seated on the ground, his stock unbuckled, and his face clammy with cold sweat. Essen was bending anxiously over him, and someone, apparently a surgeon, was kneeling at his side. His sleeve was oiled up above the elbow, and the surgeon, lancet in hand, as about to open a vein to bleed him. Hornblower withdrew is arm abruptly, for he did not want to be touched by that thing, nor by those hands which were black with other men’s blood.
The assembled staff raised their voices in protest, but Hornblower disregarded them with the sublime abstraction of a sick man. Then Brown appeared, cutlass at his side and pistols in his belt, followed by other members of the barge’s crew. Apparently he had seen his captain ride over the bridge, and, like the good subordinate he was, had brought the boat across after him. Brown’s face was contorted with anxiety, and he threw himself, too, on his knees beside Hornblower.
“Wounded, sir? Where is it? Can I -”
“No, no, no,” said Hornblower pettishly, pushing Brown away and getting to his feet, swaying. “It’s nothing.”
It was extraordinarily maddening to see a look of admiration come over Brown’s face. Anyone would think he was being heroic instead of merely sensible. Not far away – at the foot of the breach, apparently – a trumpet was pealing, high challenging notes, and this served to distract the crowd from their solicitude. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound, and presently a group of Russian officers approached them, leading a blindfold figure dressed in the blue trimmed with grey astrakhan of the French Imperial Staff. A word from Essen removed the bandage, and the officer – he wore a grey Hussar moustache – saluted with dignity.
“The chef d’escadron Verrier,” he said, “aide-de-camp to Marshal the Duke of Tarentum. I am ordered by the Marshal to suggest a suspension of hostilities for two hours. The breach is covered with the wounded of both sides, and it would be only humane to remove them. Each side can remove its own.”
“There are more French and German wounded than Russian, I am sure,” said Essen, in his horrible French.
“French or Russian, sir,” said the parlementaire, “they will die unless they receive speedy aid.”
Hornblower’s mind was beginning to work again. Ideas were leaping to the surface like wreckage from a sunken ship. He caught Essen’s eye and nodded meaningly, and Essen, like a good diplomatist, gave no sign of having received the hint as he shifted his glance back to Verrier.
“The request is granted, sir,” he said, “in the name of humanity.”
“I thank Your Excellency, in the name of humanity,” said Verrier, saluting, and then looking round for someone to blindfold him again and lead him through the breach.
The moment he was gone Hornblower turned to Brown.
“Take the barge back to the ship,” he ordered. “Hurry. My compliments to Captain Bush, and I would like you to bring back Lieutenant von Bulow to me. One of the lieutenants of equal rank will have to accompany him. Hurry!”
“Aye aye, sir.”
That was all that was necessary with Brown or Bush, thank God. A simple order brought simple yet intelligent obedience. Hornblower saluted Essen.
“Would it be possible, Your Excellency,” he asked, “to bring the Spanish troops over to this side of the river? I have a German prisoner whom I am going to return to the enemy, and I should like him to see the Spaniards with his own eyes first.”
Essen grinned with blubber lips.
“I do my best not merely to comply with every one of your wishes, sir, but even to anticipate them. The last order I gave on the other side of the river was for the Spaniards to brought over – they were the nearest formed troops and I intended to use them as garrison for the warehouses on the quay. I have no doubt they are there already. You would like them marched in this direction?”