Harcourt looked his astonishment.

“That is the case,” went on Hornblower. “And today she will be taking on some cargo out of bond. It will be brought round to her out of bond by lighter.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I want to know as much about that cargo as possible.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Naturally, I do not want the world to know that I am interested. I want nobody to know unnecessarily.”

“Yes, My Lord. I could use a telescope from here and see a good deal, with luck.”

“Very true. You can take note of whether it is bales or boxes or bags. How many there are of each. From the tackle employed you can guess at the weights. You can do all that.”

“Aye aye, My Lord.”

“Make careful note of all you see.”

“Aye aye, My Lord.”

Hornblower fixed his eyes on his youthful flag-captain’s face, trying to estimate his discretion. He remembered so well the emphatic words of the First Sea Lord regarding the necessity for the utmost tenderness regarding American susceptibilities. Hornblower decided the young man could be trusted.

“Now, Mr. Harcourt,” he said, “pay special attention to what I have to say. The more I know about that cargo the better. But don’t go at it like a bull at a gate. Should an opportunity present itself for finding out what it is, you must seize upon it. I can’t imagine what that opportunity may be, but opportunities come to those who are ready for them.”

Long, long ago, Barbara had said to him that good fortune is the portion of those who merit it.

“I understand, My Lord.”

“If the slightest hint of this gets out—if the Americans or the French get to know what you are doing—you will be sorry you were ever born, Mr. Harcourt.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I’ve no use for a dashing young officer in this connection, Mr. Harcourt. I want someone with ingenuity, someone with cunning. You are sure you understand?”