“Sounds fishy to me,” said Bush; he distrusted all foreigners.
“I think he’d keep his word, sir. He’s a Spanish gentleman. Then we wouldn’t have to guard them, or feed them, sir. And when we evacuate this place what are we going to do with them? Pack ‘em on board Renown?”
A hundred prisoners in Renown would be an infernal nuisance, drinking twenty gallons of fresh water a day and having to be watched and guarded all the time. But Bush did not like to be rushed into making decisions, and he was not too sure that he cared to have Hornblower treating as obvious the points that he only arrived at after consideration.
“I’ll have to think about that, too,” said Bush
“There was another thing that he only hinted at, sir. He wouldn’t make any definite proposal, and I thought it better not to ask him.”
“What was it?”
Hornblower paused before answering, and that in itself was a warning to Bush that something complicated was in the air.
“It’s much more important than just a matter of prisoners, sir.”
“Well?”
“It might be possible to arrange for a capitulation, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“A surrender, sir. An evacuation of all this end of the island by the Dons.”
“My God!”
That was a startling suggestion. Bush’s mind plodded along the paths it opened up. It would be an event of international importance; it might be a tremendous victory. Not just a paragraph in the Gazette, but a whole page. Perhaps rewards, distinction — even possibly promotion. And with that Bush’s mind suddenly drew back in panic, as if the path it had been following ended in a precipice. The more important the event, the more closely it would be scrutinised, the more violent would be the criticism of those who disapproved. Here in Santo Domingo there was a complicated political situation; Bush knew it to be so, although he had never attempted to find out much about it, and certainly never to analyse it. He knew vaguely that French and Spanish interests clashed in the island, and that the Negro rebellion, now almost successful, was in opposition to both. He even knew, still more vaguely, that there was an anti-slavery movement in Parliament which persistently called attention to the state of affairs here. The thought of Parliament, of the Cabinet, of the King himself scrutinising his reports actually terrified Bush. The possible rewards that he had thought about shrank to nothing in comparison with the danger he ran. If he were to enter into a negotiation that embarrassed the government he would be offered up for instant sacrifice — not a hand would be raised to help a penniless and friendless lieutenant. He remembered Buckland’s frightened manner when this question had been barely hinted at; the secret orders must be drastic in this regard.
“Don’t lift a finger about that,” said Bush. “Don’t say a word.”
“Aye aye, sir. Then if he brings the subject up I’m not to listen to him?”
“Well —” That might imply flinching away from duty. “It’s a matter for Buckland to deal with, if anyone.”
“Yes, sir. I could suggest something, sir.”
“And what’s that?” Bush did not know whether to be irritated or pleased that Hornblower had one more suggestion to make. But he doubted his own ability to bargain or negotiate; he knew himself to be lacking in chicane and dissimulation.
“If you made an agreement about the prisoners, sir, it would take some time to carry out. There’d be the question of the parole. I could argue about the wording of it. Then it would take some time to ferry the prisoners over. You could insist that only one boat was at the landing stage at a time — that’s an obvious precaution to take. It would give time for Renown to work up into the bay. She can anchor down there just out of range of the other battery, sir. Then the hole’ll be stopped, and at the same time we’ll still be in touch with the Dons so that Mr Buckland can take charge of the negotiations if he wishes to.”
“There’s something in that notion,” said Bush. Certainly it would relieve him of responsibility, and it was pleasant to think of spinning out time until the Renown was back, ready to add her ponderous weight in the struggle.
“So you authorise me to negotiate for the return of the prisoners on parole, sir?” asked Hornblower.
“Yes,” said Bush, coming to a sudden decision. “But nothing else, mark you, Mr Hornblower. Not if you value your commission.”
“Aye aye, sir. And a temporary suspension of hostilities while they are being handed over, sir?”
“Yes,” said Bush, reluctantly. It was a matter necessarily arising out of the previous one, but it had a suspicious sound to it, now that Hornblower had suggested the possibility of further negotiations.
So the day proceeded to wear into afternoon. A full hour was consumed in haggling over the wording of the parole under which the captured soldiers were to be released. It was two o’clock before agreement was reached, and later than that before Bush, standing by the main gate, watched the women troop out through it, carrying their bundles of belongings. The boat could not possibly carry them all; two trips had to be made with them before the male prisoners, starting with the wounded, could begin. To rejoice Bush’s heart the Renown appeared at last round the point; with the sea breeze beginning to blow she came nobly up the bay.
And here came Hornblower again, clearly so weary that he could hardly drag one foot after another, to touch his hat to Bush.
“Renown knows nothing about the suspension of hostilities, sir,” he said. “She’ll see the boat crossing full of Spanish soldiers, an’ she’ll open fire as sure as a gun.”
“How are we to let her know?”
“I’ve been discussing it with Ortega, sir. He’ll lend us a boat and we can send a message down to her.”
“I suppose we can.”
Sleeplessness and exhaustion had given an edge to Bush’s temper. This final suggestion, when Bush came to consider it, with his mind slowed by fatigue, was the last straw.
“You’re taking altogether too much on yourself, Mr Hornblower,” he said. “Damn it, I’m in command here.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hornblower, standing at attention, while Bush gazed at him and tried to reassemble his thoughts after this spate of ill temper. There was no denying that Renown had to be informed; if she were to open fire it would be in direct violation of an agreement solemnly entered into, and to which he himself was a party.
“Oh, hell and damnation!” said Bush. “Have it your own way, then. Who are you going to send?”
“I could go myself, sir. Then I could tell Mr Buckland everything necessary.”
“You mean about — about —” Bush actually did not like to mention the dangerous subject.
“About the chance of further negotiations, sir,” said Hornblower stolidly. “He has to know sooner or later. And while Ortega’s still here —”
The implications were obvious enough, and the suggestion was sensible.
“All right. You’d better go, I suppose. And mark my words, Mr Hornblower, you’re to make it quite clear that I’ve authorised no negotiations of the sort you have in mind. Not a word. I’ve no responsibility. You understand?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Chapter XII
Three officers sat in what had been the commanding officer’s room in Fort Samaná; in fact, seeing that Bush was now the commanding officer there, it could still be called the commanding officer’s room. A bed with a mosquito net over it stood in one corner; at the other side of the room Buckland, Bush, and Hornblower sat in leather chairs. A lamp hanging from a beam overhead filled the room with its acrid smell, and lit up their sweating faces. It was hotter and stuffier even than it was in the ship, but at least here in the fort there was no brooding knowledge of a mad captain the other side of the bulkhead.