“Shall I follow her now, My Lord?”
“I think it’s time, Sir Thomas.”
“Hands to the capstan, there! Headsail sheets, Mr Field!”
Even at two knots there would be some strain on that length of spun yarn. It must not part — it must not — before Estrella was well out to sea. Lusty arms and sturdy backs were heaving Clorinda‘s cable short.
“Clear away the saluting carronade, there!”
Estrella had made the turn; the last of her mainsail was vanishing round the corner. Fell was giving his orders to get Clorinda under way steadily and clearly, despite his excitement. Hornblower was watching him narrowly; this was not a bad test of how he would behave in action, of how he would take his ship down into the smoke and fury of a battle.
“Main tops’l braces!”
Fell was bringing the big frigate round in as neat a fashion as Gomez had handled Estrella. Clorinda steadied herself and gathered way, moving down the channel.
“Man the rail!”
Whatever was going on round the corner, whatever was happening to the Estrella out of sight, the compliments must be paid. Nine-tenths of Clorinda‘s crew on deck could be spared for the purpose; with the ship creeping forward before the land breeze the other one-tenth sufficed to keep her under control. Hornblower drew himself up and faced the Spanish flag flying over the Morro, his hand to his hat brim, Fell beside him, the other officers in rank behind, while the salute banged out and was returned, the flags dipping respectfully.
“Carry on!”
They were approaching the turn. It was possible that at any moment one of those grinning cannons up there would pitch a warning shot at them — a shot warning them that a hundred other guns were ready to pound them into a wreck; that would be if the drogue had begun to take obvious effect on the Estrella.
“Main tops’l braces!” came Fell’s order again.
Already the big Atlantic rollers were making their effect felt; Hornblower could feel Clorinda‘s bows lift momentarily to a dying surge.
“Hard a-starboard!” Clorinda turned steadily. “Meet her! Steady as you go.”
She had hardly settled on her new course when Estrella came in sight again a mile farther out to sea, her bows pointed in almost the opposite direction; she was still under very easy canvas, thank God, steadying herself for the final turn from the channel out into the ocean. Clorinda‘s main topsail shivered briefly as the Morro height intercepted the land breeze, but drew again instantly. Estrella was turning again now. She was hardly within cannon shot of the Morro.
“Port!” came Fell’s order. “Steady!”
The land breeze was right aft now, but dying away, partly with their increased distance from land and partly with the growing heat of the sun.
“Set the mains’l.”
Fell was quite right; there was need to hasten, lest the ship be delayed in the belt of doldrums between the land breeze and the trade wind. The enormous sail area of the main course carried Clorinda forward boldly, and once more the sound of the ship’s way through the water became audible. Estrella was clear of the channel now; Hornblower, watching anxiously, saw her set foresail and staysails and jibs, all her fore and aft canvas in fact. She was holding her course northward, close-hauled, directly away from the land; she must have caught the trade wind and was making northing, very sensibly, because she would have to weather Haiti before next morning on her course to the Old Bahama Channel and Havana. They were far enough from the Morro now, and from Estrella, to incur no suspicion by staring through telescopes at her. Hornblower looked long and carefully. He could detect nothing unusual about her appearance. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Gomez had detected the drogue under his stern and had removed it. He might even now be exploding with laughter, along with his officers, looking back at the British frigate hopefully following them.
“Port!” came Fell’s order again, and Clorinda took the final turn.
“Leading marks in line, sir!” reported the master, looking aft at the land with his telescope to his eye.
“Very well. Steady as you go.”
Now the waves they were encountering were true Atlantic rollers, heaving up Clorinda‘s starboard bow, and passing aft as the bows dipped to heave up the port quarter. Estrella right ahead was still close-hauled on a northerly course under fore and aft canvas.
“She’ll be making six knots,” estimated Gerard, standing with Spendlove a yard from Hornblower.
“That spun yarn should hold at six knots,” said Spendlove, meditatively.
“No bottom with this line!” reported the leadsman in the chains.
“All hands make sail!”
The order was being piped through the ship. Topgallants and royals were being spread; it was not long before Clorinda had every stitch of canvas set.
Yet the land breeze was dying fast. Clorinda was hardly making steerage way. Once, twice, the sails flapped like thunder, but she still held her course, creeping forward over the blue and white sea, with the sun blazing down upon her from a blue sky with hardly a fleck of cloud.
“Can’t keep her on her course, sir,” reported the quartermaster.
Clorinda was yawing sluggishly as the rollers came at her. Far ahead the Estrella was almost hull down. Now came a breath of a different air, the tiniest breath; Hornblower felt it, nearly imperceptible, on his sweating face long before Clorinda made response. It was a different air indeed, not the heated air of the land breeze, but the fresher air of the trade wind, clean with its passage over three thousand miles of ocean. The sails flapped and shivered; Clorinda swung more meaningly.
“Here it comes!” exclaimed Fell. “Full and by!”
A stronger puff came, so that the rudder could bite. A lull, another puff, another lull, another puff, yet each puff was stronger yet. The next puff did not die away. It endured, heeling Clorinda over. A roller burst against her starboard bow in a dazzling rainbow. Now they had caught the trade wind; now they could thrust their way northwards close-hauled in the trail of the Estrella. With the clean, fresh wind blowing, and the sensation of successful striving with it, a new animation came over the ship. There were smiles to be seen.
“She hasn’t set her tops’ls yet, My Lord,” said Gerard, his telescope still to his eye.
“I doubt if she will while she makes her northing,” replied Hornblower.
“On a wind she can weather and headreach on us,” said Spendlove. “Just as she did yesterday.”
Yesterday? Was it only yesterday? It could have been a month ago, so much had happened since yesterday’s chase.
“Do you think that drogue ought to have any effect?” asked Fell, approaching them.
“None, sir, practically speaking,” answered Spendlove. “Not while that spun yarn keeps it tail forward.”
Fell had one huge hand clasped in the other, grinding his knuckles into his palm.
“For me,” said Hornblower, and every eye turned to him, “I am going to say farewell to gold lace. A cooler coat and a looser neckcloth.”
Let Fell display worry and nervousness; he himself was going below as if he had no interest whatever in the outcome of the affair. Down in the hot cabin it was a relief to throw off his full-dress uniform — ten pounds of broadcloth and gold — and to have Giles get out a clean shirt and white duck trousers.