Bush blinked at him as at a miracle worker. Seven weeks after sighting the Horn, Hornblower had brought the Lydia straight in to her destination; he had arrived in the afternoon with the sea breeze and a flowing tide to bring him in, and if there were danger for them here nightfall would soon bring them the ebb tide and the land breeze to take them out again. How much was fluke and how much was calculation Bush could not guess, but as his opinion of Hornblower’s professional merit was far higher than Hornblower himself cherished he was inclined to give him more credit than was really his due.
“Keep the watch at quarters, Mr Bush,” said Hornblower. “Dismiss the watch below.”
With the ship a mile from any possible danger and cleared for action there was no need to keep every man at his station. The ship broke into a cheerful buzz as the watch below lined the rails to stare out at this land of green jungle and grey rock, but Hornblower was puzzled for a moment, wondering what to do next. The excitement of bringing the ship into an unknown harbour had prohibited his usual careful planning of his next step. His mind was made up for him by a hail from the lookout.
“Deck there! Boat putting out from shore. Two points abaft the starboard beam.”
A double speck of white was creeping out towards them; Hornblower’s glass resolved it into an open boat under two tiny lateen sails, and as she drew nearer he could see that she was manned by half a dozen swarthy men wearing wide straw hats. She hove‑to fifty yards away, and someone stood up in the stern sheets and shouted across the water with hands cupped round his mouth. It was Spanish that he spoke.
“Is that an English ship?” he asked.
“Yes. Come on board,” replied Hornblower. Two years as a prisoner of Spain had given him the opportunity of learning the language — he had long before decided that it was merely on account of this accomplishment that he had been selected for this special service.
The boat ran alongside and the man who had hailed scrambled lightly up the ladder to the deck. He stopped at the side and looked round him with a certain curiosity at the spotless decks and the rigid order which prevailed on every hand. He wore a sleeveless black waistcoat aflame with gold embroidery; beneath it a dirty white shirt, and on his legs dirty white trousers terminating raggedly just below the knees. His feet were bare, and in a red sash round his waist he carried two pistols and a short heavy sword. He spoke Spanish as his native tongue, but he did not look like a Spaniard; the black hair which hung over his ears was long, lustreless, and lank; there was a tinge of red in his brown complexion and a tinge of yellow in the whites of his eyes. A long thin moustache drooped from his upper lip. His eyes at once picked out the captain, gorgeous in his best coat and cocked hat, and he advanced towards him It was in anticipation of just such a meeting that Hornblower had donned his best, and he was pleased with his foresight now.
“You are the captain, sir?” asked the visitor.
“Yes. Captain Horatio Hornblower of His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Lydia, at your service. And whom have I the pleasure of welcoming?”
“Manuel Hernandez, lieutenant general of el Supremo.”
“El Supremo?” asked Hornblower, puzzled. The name was a little difficult to render into English. Perhaps ‘The Almighty’ might be the nearest translation.
“Yes, of el Supremo. You were expected here four months, six months back.”
Hornblower thought quickly. He dared not disclose the reason of his coming to any unauthorized person, but the fact that this man knew he was expected seemed to indicate that he was a member of Alvarado’s conspiracy.
“It is not to el Supremo that I am ordered to address myself,” he temporized. Hernandez made a gesture of impatience.
“Our lord el Supremo was known to men until lately as His Excellency Don Julian Maria de Jesus de Alvarado y Moctezuma,” he said.