It was only after Don Julian’s rebellion should be successful and all this accomplished that the orders went on to give Captain Hornblower permission to attack the treasure ships to be found in the Pacific, and moreover no shipping was to be interfered with if doing so should give offense to those inhabitants who might otherwise be favourable to the rebellion. For Captain Hornblower’s information it was noted that the Spaniards were believed to maintain in these waters a two‑decked ship of fifty guns, by the name the Natividad, for the enforcement of the royal authority. Captain Hornblower was therefore requested and required to ‘take, sink, burn or destroy’ this ship at the first opportunity.
Lastly, Captain Hornblower was ordered to open communications as soon as might be convenient with the Rear Admiral commanding the Leeward Islands station for the purpose of receiving further orders.
Captain Hornblower folded up the crackling paper again and fell into contemplation. Those orders were the usual combination of the barely‑possible and the quite Quixotic, which a captain on detached service might expect to receive. Only a landsman would have given those opening orders to sail to the Gulf of Fonseca without sighting other land in the Pacific — only a succession of miracles (Hornblower gave himself no credit for sound judgment and good seamanship) had permitted of their being carried out.
Starting a rebellion in the Spanish American colonies had long been a dream of the British government — a dream which had been a nightmare to the British officers ordered to make it a reality. Admiral Popham and Admiral Stirling, General Beresford and General Whitelocke, had, during the last three years, all lost in honour and reputation in repeated efforts to raise rebellion on the River Plate.
Opening up a channel to British trade across the Isthmus of Darien had long been a similar dream cherished by Admiralty clerks with small scale maps before them and no practical experience. Thirty years ago Nelson himself, as a young captain, had nearly lost his life in command of an expedition up that very river San Juan which Hornblower was ordered to clear from its source.
And to crown it all was the casual mention of the presence of a fifty‑gun ship of the enemy. It was typical of Whitehall to send a thirty‑six gun frigate so lightly to attack an enemy of nearly double that force. The British navy had been so successful in single ship duels during these wars that by now victory was expected of its ships against any odds. If by any chance the Natividad should overwhelm the Lydia no excuse would be accepted. Hornblower’s career would be wrecked. Even if the inevitable courtmartial did not break him, he would be left to languish on half pay for the rest of his life. Failure to capture the Natividad, failure to start a successful rebellion, failure to open the isthmus to trade — any one of these quite probable failures would mean a loss of reputation, of employment, of having to face his wife on his return condemned as a man inferior to his fellows.
Having contemplated all these gloomy possibilities Hornblower thrust them aside with determined optimism. First and foremost he must make contact with this Don Julian Alvarado, which seemed to be a duty involving some little interest and only small difficulty. Later there would be treasure‑ships to capture and prize money to be won. He would not allow himself to worry about the rest of the future. He heaved himself off the locker and strode back to his sleeping‑cabin.
Ten minutes later he stepped up on the quarterdeck; he noted with sardonic amusement how his officers tried without success to appear not to notice his splendid best coat with the epaulettes, his silk stockings, his shoes with the cut steel buckles, his cocked hat and his gold-hilted sword. Hornblower cast a glance at the fast‑nearing shore.
“Beat to quarters, Mr Bush,” he said. “Clear for action.”
The roll of the drum set the ship into a wild fury as the watch below came tumbling up. Urged on by the cries and blows of the petty officers the crew flung themselves into the business of getting the ship ready for action. The decks were soused with water and strewn with sand; the bulkheads were knocked away; the fire parties took their places at the pumps; the boys ran breathless with cartridges for the guns; down below the purser’s steward who had been appointed acting surgeon was dragging together the midshipmen’s chests in the cockpit to make an operating table.