“Aye aye, sir.”

“Oh, Horry,” said Maria, with a hint of reproach in her voice. No, it was disappointment, not reproach.

“My dear—” said Hornblower. It occurred to him that he might now quote ‘I could not love thee, dear, so much’ but he instantly discarded the idea; it would not be at all suitable at this moment, with this wife.

“You’re going to the ship again,” said Maria.

“Yes.”

He could not stay away from the ship while there was work to be done. Today, by driving the hands, they could get half the stores on board at least. Tomorrow they could finish, and if Ordnance responded to the prodding of the Admiral, they could get the powder and shot on board as well. Then they could sail at dawn the day after tomorrow.

“I’ll be back again this evening,” he said. He forced himself to smile, to look concerned, to forget that he was on the threshold of adventure, that before him lay a career of possible distinction.

“Nothing shall keep me from you, dear,” he said.

He clapped his hands on her shoulders and gave her a smacking kiss that drew applause from the others; that was the way to reintroduce a note of comedy into the proceedings, and, under cover of the laughter, he made his exit. As he hastened down to the Hard two subjects for thought intertwined in his mind, like the serpents of the medical caduceus—the tender love that Maria wished to lavish upon him, and the fact that the day after tomorrow he would be at sea, in command.

Chapter II

Someone must have been knocking at the bedroom door for some time; Hornblower had been conscious of it but was too stupid with sleep to think more about it. But now the door opened with a clank of the latch, and Maria, awakening with a start, clutched at him in sudden fright, and he was now fully awake. There was the faintest gleam of light through the thick bed curtains, a shuffling step on the oak floor of the bedroom, and a high-pitched female voice.