“Men!” said Hornblower. “There is coming aboard today a prince of this country who is in alliance with our own gracious King. Whatever happens — mark my words, whatever happens — he is to be treated with respect. I will flog the man who laughs, or the man who does not behave towards Señor el Supremo as he would to me. And we shall be sailing tonight with this gentleman’s troops on board. You will look after them as if they were Englishmen. And better than that. You would play tricks on English soldiers. The first man to play a trick on any of these men I shall flog within the hour. Forget their colour. Forget their clothes. Forget that they cannot speak English, and remember only what I say to you. You can pipe down now, Mr Bush.”
Down in the cabin Polwheal was waiting faithfully with the dressing gown and towel for his captain’s bath, which ought according to time table have been taken two hours back.
“Put out my best uniform again,” snapped Hornblower. “And I want the after cabin ready for a state dinner for eight at six bells. Go for’rard and bring my cook to me.”
There was plenty to do. Bush and Rayner the first and fourth lieutenants, and Simmonds the marine officer, and Crystal the master, had to be invited to the dinner and warned to be ready in full dress. Plans had to be made for the accommodation of five hundred men on board the two frigates.
Hornblower was just looking across to the Natividad, where she swung with her white ensign over the red and gold of Spain, wondering what steps he should take with regard to her, when a boat came running gaily out to him from the shore. The leader of the party which came on board was a youngish man of less than middle height, slight of figure and lithe as a monkey, with a mobile smile and an expression of indefeatable good humour. He looked more Spanish than American. Bush brought him up to where Hornblower impatiently trod his quarterdeck. Making a cordial bow, the newcomer introduced himself.
“I am Vice-Admiral Don Cristobal de Crespo,” he said.
Hornblower could not help but look him up and down. The Vice-Admiral wore gold earrings, and his gold embroidered coat did not conceal the raggedness of the grey shirt beneath. At least he wore boots, of soft brown leather, into which were tucked his patched white trousers.
“Of el Supremo’s service?” asked Hornblower.
“Of course. May I introduce my officers. Ship-captain Andrade. Frigate-captain Castro. Corvette-captain Carrera. Lieutenants Barrios and Barillas and Cerno. Aspirants Diaz —”
The dozen officers introduced under these resounding titles were barefooted Indians, the red sashes round their waists stuck full of pistols and knives. They bowed awkwardly to Hornblower; one or two of them wore expressions of brutish cruelty.
“I have come,” said Crespo, amiably, “to hoist my flag in my new ship Natividad. It is el Supremo’s wish that you should salute it with the eleven guns due to a vice-admiral.”
Hornblower’s jaw dropped a little at that. His years of service had grained into him despite himself a deep respect for the details of naval pageantry, and he was irked by the prospect of giving this ragged-shirted rascal as many guns as Nelson ever had. With an effort he swallowed his resentment He knew he had to go through with the farce to the bitter end if he was to glean any success. With an empire at stake it would be foolish to strain at points of ceremony.
“Certainly, Admiral,” he said. “It gives me great happiness to be one of the first to congratulate you upon your appointment.”
“Thank you, Captain. There will be one or two details to attend to first,” said the vice-admiral. “May I ask if the executive officers of the Natividad are on board here or are still in the Natividad?”
“I greatly regret,” said Hornblower, “that I dropped them overboard this morning after courtmartial.”
“That is indeed a pity,” said Crespo. “I have el Supremo’s orders to hang them at the Natividad’s yardarms. You did not leave even one?”