There was no lack of sea room, there was no dangerous lee shore to demand instant action, and Cargill could wait until every sail was drawing fully again, and Hotspur had plenty of way on her to enable the rudder to bite. Cargill even had the sense to allow her head to fall off another point so as to give plenty of momentum for his next attempt, although Hornblower noticed with a slight pang of regret that he hurried it a trifle more than he should have done. He should have waited perhaps two more minutes.

“Headsail sheets!” ordered Cargill again; his fingers started drumming on his thigh once more with the strain of waiting.

But Cargill’s head was clear enough to give his orders in the correct sequence. Round came Hotspur into the wind again. Sheets and braces were handled smartly. There was a paralysing moment as she baulked again, hung as though she was determined once more to miss stays, but this time she had a trifle more momentum, and in the last possible second a fortunate combination of wind and wave pushed her bows round through the vital final degrees of swing. Round she came, at last.

“Full and bye!” said Cargill to the helmsman, the relief very evident in his voice. “Fore tack, there! Sheets! Braces!”

With the operation completed he turned to face the criticism of his superiors; there was sweat trickling down his forehead. Hornblower could feel Bush beside him ready to rate him thoroughly; Bush believed sincerely that everyone was the better for a severe dressing-down in any circumstance, and he was usually right. But Hornblower had been watching Hotspur’s behaviour closely.

“Carry on, Mr. Cargill,” he said, and Cargill, relieved turned away again, and Bush met Hornblower’s glance with some slight surprise.

“The ship’s trimmed too much by the head,” said Hornblower. “That makes her unhandy in stays.”

“It might do so,” agreed Bush, doubtfully.

If the bow gripped the water more firmly than the stern Hotspur would act like a weather-vane, persisting in keeping her bow to the wind.