“Which Admiral?”

“The Honourable Admiral Sir William Cornwallis, sir, commanding the Channel Fleet. ‘Is coachman says war’s certain, sir.”

Hornblower had been convinced of this ever since, nine days ago, he had read the King’s message to Parliament, and witnessed the activities of the press gangs, and had been notified of his appointment to the command of the Hotspur—and (he remembered) had found himself betrothed to Maria. Bonaparte’s unscrupulous behaviour on the Continent meant—

“A glass of wine, madam? A glass of wine, sir?”

Hornblower was conscious of Maria’s inquiring glance when the innkeeper asked this question. She would not venture to answer until she had ascertained what her new husband thought.

“We’ll wait for the rest of the company,” said Hornblower. “Ah—”

A heavy step on the threshold announced Bush’s arrival.

“They’ll all be here in two minutes,” said Bush.

“Very good of you to arrange about the carriage and seamen, Mr. Bush,” said Hornblower, and he thought that moment of something else that a kind and thoughtful husband would say. He slipped his hand under Maria’s arm and added—“Mrs Hornblower says you made her very happy.”

A delighted giggle from Maria told him that he had given pleasure by this unexpected use of her new name, as he expected.

“Mrs Hornblower, I give you joy,” said Bush, solemnly, and then to Hornblower, “By your leave, sir, I’ll return to the ship.”

“Now, Mr. Bush?” asked Maria.

“I fear I must, ma’am,” replied Bush, turning back at once to Hornblower. “I’ll take the hands back with me, sir. There’s always the chance that the lighters with the stores may come off.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Mr. Bush,” said Hornblower. “Keep me informed, if you please.”