“It’s Lord Hornblower, isn’t it?” asked the white man — a young fellow; Hornblower noticed dully that, although mounted, he was still in full-dress clothes with his ruffled neckcloth all awry and bedraggled.
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
“Thank God you’re safe, sir,” said the young man. “Are you hurt? Are you wounded, My Lord?”
“No,” said Hornblower, swaying with fatigue on the back of the mule.
The young man turned to one of his coloured companions and issued rapid orders, and the coloured man wheeled his horse round and went galloping full pelt down the road.
“The whole island has been turned out to seek for you, My Lord,” said the young man. “What happened to you? We have searched for you all day.”
It would never do for an Admiral, a Commander-in-Chief, to betray unmanly weakness. Hornblower made himself stiffen his spine.
“I was kidnapped by pirates,” he said. He tried to speak nonchalantly, as if that was something that could happen to anyone any day, but it was difficult. His voice was only a hoarse croak. “I must go at once to the Governor. Where is His Excellency?”
“He must be at Government House, I fancy,” said the young man. “No more than thirty miles away.”
Thirty miles! Hornblower felt as if he could not ride another thirty yards.
“Very well,” he said, stiffly. “I must go there.”
“The Hough house is only two miles down the road here, My Lord,” said the young man. “Your carriage is still there, I believe. I have already sent a messenger.”
“We’ll go there first, then,” said Hornblower, as indifferently as he could manage.
A word from the white man brought the other coloured man from his horse, and Hornblower slid ungracefully from the mule. It was an enormous effort to get his foot up into the stirrup; the coloured man had to help him heave his right leg over. He had hardly gathered the reins in his hands — he had not yet discovered which was which — when the white man put his horse into a trot and Hornblower’s mount followed him. It was torture to bump about in the saddle.
“My name is Colston,” said the white man, checking his horse so that Hornblower came up alongside him. “I had the honour of being presented to Your Lordship at the ball last night.”
“Of course,” said Hornblower. “Tell me what happened there.”
“You were missed, My Lord, after the supper march had been kept waiting for you to head it with Mrs Hough. You and your secretary, Mr — Mr —”
“Spendlove,” said Hornblower.
“Yes, My Lord. At first it was thought that some urgent business was demanding your attention. It was not for an hour or two, I suppose, that your flag-lieutenant and Mr Hough could agree that you had been spirited away. There was great distress among the company, My Lord.”
“Yes?”
“Then the alarm was given. All the gentlemen present rode out in search for you. The militia was called out at dawn. The whole countryside is being patrolled. I expect the Highland regiment is in full march for here at this moment.”
“Indeed?” said Hornblower. A thousand infantrymen were making a forced march of thirty miles on his account; a thousand horsemen were scouring the island.
Hoofbeats sounded in front of them. Two horsemen approached in the gathering darkness; Hornblower could just recognise Hough and the messenger.
“Thank God, My Lord,” said Hough. “What happened?”
Hornblower was tempted to answer, ‘Mr Colston will tell you’, but he made himself make a more sensible reply. Hough uttered the expected platitudes.
“I must go on to the Governor at once,” said Hornblower. “There is Spendlove to think of.”
“Spendlove, My Lord? Oh, yes, of course, your secretary.”
“He is still in the hands of the pirates,” said Hornblower.
“Indeed, My Lord?” replied Hough.
No one seemed to have a care about Spendlove, except Lucy Hough, presumably.
Here was the house and the courtyard; lights were gleaming in every window.
“Please come in, My Lord,” said Hough. “Your Lordship must be in need of refreshment.”
He had eaten yams and salt pork some time that morning; he felt no hunger now.
“I must go on to Government House,” he said. “I can waste no time.”
“If Your Lordship insists —”
“Yes,” said Hornblower.
“I will go and have the horses put to, then, My Lord.”
Hornblower found himself alone in the brightly-lit sitting-room. He felt that if he threw himself into one of the vast chairs there he would never get up again.
“My Lord! My Lord!”
It was Lucy Hough fluttering into the room, her skirts flying with her haste. He would have to tell her about Spendlove.
“Oh, you’re safe! You’re safe!”
What was this? The girl had flung herself on her knees before him. She had one of his hands in both hers, and was kissing it frantically. He drew back, he tried to snatch his hand away, but she clung on to it, and followed him on her knees, still kissing it.
“Miss Lucy!”
“I care for nothing as long as you’re safe!” she said, looking up at him and still clasping his hand; tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’ve been through torment today. You’re not hurt? Tell me! Speak to me!”
This was horrible. She was pressing her lips, her cheek, against his hand again.
“Miss Lucy! Please! Compose yourself!”
How could a girl of seventeen act like this towards a man of forty-five? Was she not enamoured of Spendlove? But perhaps that was the person she was thinking about.
“I will see that Mr Spendlove is safe,” he said.
“Mr Spendlove? I hope he’s safe. But it’s you — you — you —”
“Miss Lucy! You must not say these things! Stand up, please, I beg you!”
Somehow he got her to her feet.
“I couldn’t bear it!” she said. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you!”
“There, there!” said Hornblower, as soothingly as he knew how.
“The carriage will be ready in two minutes, My Lord,” said Hough’s voice from the door. “A glass of wine and a bite before you start?”
Hough came in with a smile.
“Thank you, sir,” said Hornblower, struggling with embarrassment.
“This child has been in a rare way since this morning,” said Hough, indulgently. “These young people — She was the only person in the island, I fancy, who gave a thought to the secretary as well as to the Commander-in-Chief.”
“Er — yes. These young people,” said Hornblower.
The butler entered with a tray at that moment.
“Pour His Lordship a glass of wine, Lucy, my dear,” said Hough, and then to Hornblower, “Mrs Hough has been considerably prostrated, but she will be down in a moment.”
“Please do not discommode her, I beg of you,” said Hornblower. His hand was shaking as he reached for the glass. Hough took up carving knife and fork and set about carving the cold chicken.
“Excuse me, please,” said Lucy.
She turned and ran from the room as quickly as she had entered it, sobbing wildly.
“I had no idea the attachment was so strong,” said Hough.
“Nor had I,” said Hornblower. He had gulped down the whole glass of wine in his agitation. He addressed himself to the cold chicken with all the calm he could muster.
“The carriage is at the door, sir,” announced the butler.
“I’ll take these with me,” said Hornblower, a slice of bread in one hand and a chicken wing in the other. “Would it be troubling you too much to ask you to send a messenger ahead of me to warn His Excellency of my coming?”
“That has already been done, My Lord,” answered Hough. “And I have sent out messengers to inform the patrols that you are safe.”