“I’ll take my bath,” said Hornblower, meditatively.
He knew perfectly well that Fell thought it undignified and dangerous to discipline that an Admiral should disport himself under the washdeck pump, hosed down by grinning seamen, and he neither agreed nor cared. No miserable sponging down could take the place of his bath. The seamen pumped vigorously, and Hornblower pranced with middle-aged abandon under the stinging impact of the water. Now the clean shirt and trousers were doubly delightful; he felt a new man as he came on deck again, and his unconcern was not all pretence when Fell nervously approached him.
“She’s running clean away from us again, My Lord,” he said.
“We know she can, Sir Thomas. We can only wait until she puts her helm up and sets her tops’ls.”
“As long as we can keep her in sight —” said Fell.
Clorinda was lying right over, fighting her way to the northward.
“I can see that we’re doing all we can, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, soothingly.
The morning was wearing on. “Up spirits!” was piped, and Fell agreed with the sailing master that it was noon, and the hands were sent to dinner. Now it was only when Clorinda lifted to a wave that a telescope, trained over the starboard bow from the quarterdeck, could detect the gleam of Estrella‘s sails over the horizon. She still had no topsails set; Gomez was acting on the knowledge that close-hauled his schooner behaved better without her square sails — unless he was merely playing with his pursuers. The hills of Puerto Rico had sunk out of sight below the horizon far, far astern. And the roast beef at dinner, roast fresh beef, had been most disappointing, tough and stringy and without any taste whatever.
“Stuart said he’d send me the best sirloin the island could produce, My Lord,” said Gerard, in answer to Hornblower’s expostulations.
“I wish I had him here,” said Hornblower. “I’d make him eat it, every bit, without salt. Sir Thomas, please accept my apologies.”
“Er — yes, My Lord,” said Fell, who had been invited to his Admiral’s table and who had been recalled from his own private thoughts by Hornblower’s apologies. “That drogue —”
Having said those words — that special word, rather — he was unable to say more. He looked across the table at Hornblower. His lantern-jawed face — the brick-red cheeks always looked odd in that conformation — showed his anxiety, which was accentuated by the look in his eyes.
“If we don’t know all about it today,” said Hornblower, “we’ll hear all about it at some later date.”
It was the truth, even though it was not the kindest thing to say.
“We’ll be the laughing-stock of the Islands,” said Fell.
No one in the world could look more miserable than he did at that moment. Hornblower himself was inclined to give up hope, but the sight of that despair roused his contrary nature.
“There’s all the difference in the world between six knots, which she’s making now close-hauled, and twelve knots, which she’ll make when she puts up her helm,” he said. “Mr Spendlove here will tell you that the water resistance is a function of the square of the speed. Isn’t that so, Mr Spendlove?”
“Perhaps a function of the cube or even one of the higher powers, My Lord.”
“So we can still hope, Sir Thomas. That spun yarn will have eight times the pull upon it when she alters course.”
“It’ll be chafing now, as well, My Lord,” added Spendlove.
“If they didn’t see the thing last night and cast it off,” said Fell, still gloomy.
When they reached the deck again the sun was inclining towards the west.
“Masthead, there!” hailed Fell. “Is the chase still in sight?”
“Yes, sir. Hull down from here, sir, but plain in sight. Two points or thereabouts on the weather bow.”
“She’s made all the northing she needs,” grumbled Fell. “Why doesn’t she alter course?”
There was nothing to do except wait, to try and extract some pleasure from the clean wind and the blue and white sea; but the pleasure was only faint now, the sea did not seem so blue. Nothing to do except wait, with the minutes dragging like hours. Then it happened.
“Deck, there! Chase is altering course to port. She’s running right before the wind.”
“Very well.”
Fell looked round at all the faces of the crowd on the quarterdeck. His own was as tense as anyone else’s.
“Mr Sefton, alter course four points to port.”
He was going to play the game out to the bitter end, even though yesterday’s experience, closely parallel to the present, had shown that Clorinda stood no chance in normal circumstances of intercepting.
“Deck, there! She’s settin’ her tops’ls. T’garns’ls, too, sir!”
“Very well.”
“We’ll soon know now,” said Spendlove. “With the drogue in action she must lose speed. She must.”
“Deck, there! Cap’n, sir!” The lookout’s voice had risen to a scream of excitement. “She’s flown up into the wind! She’s all aback! Fore topmast’s gone, sir!”
“So have her rudder pintles,” said Hornblower, grimly.
Fell was leaping on the deck, actually dancing with joy, his face radiant. But he re-collected himself with all speed.
“Come two points to starboard,” he ordered. “Mr James, get aloft with you and tell me how she bears.”
“She’s taking in her mains’l!” shouted the lookout.
“Trying to get before the wind again,” commented Gerard.
“Cap’n, sir!” This was James’s voice from the masthead. “You’re heading a point to loo’ard of her.”
“Very well.”
“She’s coming before the wind — no, she’s all aback again, sir!”
The Thing still had her by the tail, then; her struggles would be as unavailing as those of a deer in the claws of a lion.
“Steer small, you —” said Fell, using a horrible word to the helmsman.
Everyone was excited, everyone seemed to be obsessed with the fear that Estrella would clear away the wreck and make her escape after all.
“With her rudder gone she’ll never be able to hold a course,” said Hornblower. “And she’s lost her fore-topmast, too.”
Another wait, but of a very different nature now. Clorinda, thrashing along, seemed to have caught the excitement and to have put on a spurt as she hurled herself at her quarry, racing forward to triumph.
“There she is!” said Gerard, telescope trained forward. “All aback still.”
As the next wave lifted Clorinda they all caught sight of her; they were approaching her fast. A sorry, pitiful sight she looked, her fore-topmast broken off clean at the cap, her sails shivering in the wind.
“Clear away the bow chaser,” ordered Fell. “Fire a shot across her bow.”
The shot was fired. Something rose to the schooner’s main peak, and broke out into the red and gold of Spain. It hung there for a moment and then came slowly down again.
“Congratulations on the success of your plans, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower.
“Thank you, My Lord,” answered Fell. He was beaming with pleasure. “I could have done nothing without Your Lordship’s acceptance of my suggestions.”
“That is very good of you, Sir Thomas,” said Hornblower, turning back to look at the prize.
The Estrella was a pitiful sight, the more pitiful as they approached her, and could see more clearly the raffle of wreckage dangling forward, and the rudder torn loose aft. The sudden tug of the drogue when it took effect, using enormous force and leverage, had broken or pulled straight the stout bronze pintles on which the rudder had hung suspended. The drogue itself, weighted by its chain, still hung out of sight below the dangling rudder. Gomez, brought triumphantly aboard, had still no idea of the cause of the disaster, and had not guessed at the reason for the loss of his rudder. He had been young and handsome and dignified in the face of undeserved misfortune when he arrived on Clorinda‘s deck. There was no pleasure in observing the change in him when he was told the truth. No pleasure at all. The sight even took away the feeling of pleasure over a professional triumph, to see him wilting under the eyes of his captors. But still, more than three hundred slaves had been set free.