Adventures_of_Horatio_Hornblower_the_-_Return_to_the

When Renown ploughed her course westwards across the Atlantic to the West Indies Station, there were two questions which, for her crew, and more especially for her officers, seemed with the passing of each day more urgently to require answering. Following upon the accident to Captain Sawyer, would First Lieutenant Buckland take it upon himself formally to assume the responsibilities of taking command of the ship? And what were the contents of those sealed orders from the Admiralty among the Captain's papers? the orders which defined the objectives of Renown's mission once she reached her station. Swathed in a canvas straitjacket, the captain lay in his cabin. Unless reduced to insensibility by laudanum and bleeding, he either screamed or sobbed. A

crew that under the tyranny of a mind already deranged had been fast disintegrating could now again be made seamen. For the officers, and for me, the junior lieutenant, Buckland's decision was the vital thing. Only with Lieutenant William Bush did I find it possible to open the problem.

How much longer before Mr. Buckland opens those orders, Mr.

Bush? God knows.

If he takes the ship down to Antigua only to find out afterwards that he has to beat it back to Wynwood, he'll get his knuckles wrapped finely by my lords. And if he reads secret orders... He's liable to be reprimanded for presumption.

What's your reading, Mr. Hornblower?

Greatest altitude I've ever measured. I've never been as fast out as this before.

And what's your result?

I'm not certain.

What's the difficulty?

I can shoot the sun.

No trouble about that.

It's the calculations that bother me. All those damn corrections.

Oh, well, they're not so hard, sir. Now, check against mine. Plot the position with parallel rulers. There's the point of interception. Now we can check against dead reckoning.

I see.

We're still being set to southward. We're not far enough east for the Gulf Stream to set us north.

You said you'd never navigated these waters before.

That's so.

Then how? Well, I suppose you've been studying.

Well, at any rate, there we are.

It's something to know that much. What do you think Number One will do, Mr. Hombler?

He must make up his mind, now or never. We lose ground to lure every day from now on.

What would you do?

I'd read the orders, Mr. Bush.

I'd rather be in trouble for having done something than for not doing anything.

I wonder.

Those orders may detach us on independent service.

It's a chance in a thousand for Buckland.

I suppose it is. You wish it was yours?

I must put these things away.

I'm exercising the lower deck guns crews after hounds have had their dinner.

Yes, Mr.

Hornblower.

Permission to have the deck wash pump, Richter?

Men feeling the heat, eh?

I don't know about them, but I am, Mr.

Roberts.

I have 15 minutes, plenty of time.

Oh, very well.

Thank you, sir.

Captain of the waist there.

Sir!

Get the wash deck pump rigged at once.

Four men for the handles, one for the hose, and jump to it.

Aye, sir.

Give way!

Give way! That's right.

Now, turn it on me.

Hurry now.

Pump, you sons of peacocks.

Hornblower has some odd fancies, Mr.

Bush.

He seems to be enjoying himself, sir.

Well, rather him than me.

Pump.

Pumping to help.

Captain of the way, secure that pump, get the next one. Aye, aye, sir. Back with you in five minutes, Mr.

Roberts.

Right out, I hope.

What's going on here, Mr.

Roberts?

Mr. Hornblower wanted a bath, Mr. Buckland.

I don't know if it's good for discipline.

We'll hope he doesn't get himself a fever checking the sweat like that.

No sign of that, sir.

Well, it may clear his head.

Perhaps he could clear mine.

Yours, sir?

I need a clear head at this moment. Send Mr. Hornblower to my cabin when he comes back, Mr. Roberts, and ask the surgeon to join us. This thing's got to be settled.

Aye, aye, sir.

Mr.

Bush, find Mr. Clive and let him know that Mr. Buckland wants him in his cabin.

Well, Mr. Clive....

He's done it. Read the orders? As far as I know, yes, Mr Roberts.

What do you mean by that? What was in them?

They're secret orders, Mr Roberts. Even if Mr.

Buckland had taken me into his confidence, I couldn't tell you.

No need to be pompous about it. What did the captain do?

What didn't he do, Mr Bush? Poor devil, we might have been fiends from the pit. You should have seen him car away when we went into his cabin. I would have thought we were going to cut his throat instead of just finding the key of his desk.

That man is suffering the terrors of hell.

I suppose you would not be guilty of exaggeration, Mr.

Clyde.

I would not, sir. I repeat, the terrors of hell and all the sorrows of this world.

And did you find this precious key?

We did.

Mr.

Buckland opened the desk. Well, Mr. Buckland found the orders. The usual linen envelope with the Admiralty seal. So he's now read them, and we're none the wiser.

Well, God bless my soul. I don't imagine we can expect to know what's in store for us. We've only been at war for nearly ten years.

We just obey orders.

Helm a lee, let go and haul, grapeshot in the belly, or champagne in a captured flagship.

Who cares? We draw our four shillings a day, wet or fine.

Well, I'll wager a week's pay on a change of course, my miss, that Buckland's read those orders.

Mr. Clive?

No takers. Officer of the watch. Here, sir. We're altering course. Two points. Steer south-west.

Course south-west, Mr.

Bartlett. South-west it is, sir. By Paul, hands to the braces.

Another pull on that poor brace there.

Your pardon, Mr. Bartlett. Yes, Mr.

Roberts.

Can you tell us our mission now, sir?

No.

It is still secret.

Very good, sir.

But I can tell you where we're bound. San Domingo. Scotsman's Bay. San Domingo? Hispaniola. Haiti. Three names for the same island. I am obliged to you, Mr.

Bush. Hmm. Haiti.

That's where the blacks are in rebellion against the Spaniards.

That is so, I believe, Mr.

Roberts.

If you ask me, Captain Sawyer's not the only one that's nervous.

I didn't ask you, Mr.

Clive.

I wonder, is it of the blacks, or is it because Captain Sawyer's still alive?

I would suggest that as surgeon you go below and attend to him, Mr.

Clive.

That is your business.

Glad there's some company up here, Mr. Hornblower. She's rolling damnably.

Rolling?

She's wallowing.

Oh, Lord. Yours must be a cast iron stomach, Mr.

Bush.

What the devil must we lie who to like this?

Mr.

Buffen seems to want time to study the lie of the land.

He's been studying it through that telescope of his for a good half hour. Why can't he make up his mind? There's nothing to see at this range but the mountains of San Domingo. How much more does he want to see? We know there's a fort up there, flying the Spanish colours. And everyone on shore must know by now that the British ship of the line is prowling about. The Dons don't have to be clever to guess we're not here on a yachting trip. All we're doing is giving them the time they need to prepare a reception for us.

What else could Buckland do?

They could have come in with the sea breeze under cover of darkness with a landing party ready.

Put them ashore at dawn. stormed the place before they knew there was any danger.

Oh, damn, this rolling.

Hard luck.

Mr.

Robert?

Sir?

May her and.

The port tack fall and fly.

Aye, aye, sir. Port tack, helmsman.

Aye, aye, sir.

That's better. There's something.

I could wish we were going into action, not running away to think about it.

Anxious to eat fire, Mr. Homler?

Nothing like that, Mr. Bush, sir.

Quite the opposite, if you must know.

I wish for too much too quickly.

Now, gentlemen. I know you've been curious about my intentions. I propose to take the bull by the horns tomorrow morning.

Satisfied now, Hornblower?

I trust you're all satisfied, Mr.

Bush.

Your pardon, sir?

We'll round the Samana Point and force our way.

Straight up the bay.

Here, gentlemen.

It won't take many broadsides to wipe out any shipping at anchor.

Particularly any privateers, sir?

Just so, Mr.

Robertson.

We'll sink them or burn them. Then we can decide what to do next.

Any questions?

No trouble with the tide, sir?

As I understand, none. What about the south shore of the bay, Mr. Buckland? There is the fort.

I have a plan to deal with the situation, Mr.

Roberts.

Have you anything to ask, Mr.

Hornblower?

No, sir. Then that will be all for the present, gentlemen.

Stomach still troubling you? No. Not happier at the prospect of action.

Not this one, Mr.

Bush.

Clear decks for action!

All hands to quarters!

Clear for action!

Bush was in command of the lower gun deck and of the 17 24-pounders on the starboard battery.

Under him I commanded.

Those of the port side.

I saw a group of the surgeon's crew carrying the straight-jacketed figure of Captain Sawyer to the safety of.

The cable tier.

A pitiful wreck of a man, writhing and weeping. There were ship's boys with buckets of sand to give firm foothold to the gun's crews. A ring of extra firebuckets round the main mast. Slow matches smouldering in tubs for the rekindling of linstocks. A marine with fixed bayonet posted at each hatchway. The gunners in list slippers, standing by their tackles. The powder monkeys scurrying about the deck, each carrying a charge for the guns. The breachings cast off, and the gun crew standing by. Ten men by every gun on the starboard side, five on the port side.

Bush would redistribute them when.

And if necessary.

We don't run the guns out yet, Mr. Hornblower.

Very good, sir.

Silence there. Sir.

Yes, Mr.

Wellett.

Mr.

Butler's compliments. I'm pleased to run your guns down. Thank you, Mr.

Wellett.

Up, ports.

Run out. Aye, aye, sir.

Will you try a ranging shot at the batteries.

When your guns bear, sir?

Your orders, Mr.

Wellard?

No, sir.

Mr.

Buckland's. Then say so.

My respects to Mr.

Buckland's.

And it will be some time before my guns are in range.

Aye, aye, sir.

Yes, Mr.

Hornblower.

There's a point running out ahead, Mr.

Bush.

You see the shallows there, sir? The channel must bend round them. And there's a battery out there on the point.

You see the smoke?

Yeah.

They must be heating for red-hot shot.

I dare say.

We'll be under crossfire.

Not for too long, I hope.

That's the fort, sir. No doubt.

And here it comes.

Their aim's pretty good, Mr.

Bush.

Too good.

I might just reach the battery on this side now, sir.

Then try what you can do.

Can't you open fire yet, Mr.

Bush?

This minute, sir.

Fire!

Oh, just short, sir. When the guns are hot, they'll reach it. Carry on then, Mr.

Humbler. Open fire, 1st Division!

Second Division!

The red-hot shot had begun to strike home on Renown. Smoke was curling up from a deep gash in the deck beams by my head. From above, I could hear the rush of feet and the clank of pumps, which told me that on the main deck, too, they were fighting fires. Then I realized something strange in the feel of the deck under my feet. A perceptible slope, a queer sense of rigidity and permanence. We had run aground smoothly on a mudbank, doomed to be shot to pieces by that accursed fort as the.

Battery failed to roast us alive where we lay.

Tide's still rising, Mr.

Hombler.

It's an hour before high water and we're pretty hard aground.

Steady there.

Swab that gun out properly.

You want your hands blown off when you reload?

An hour to high water, you say, Mr.

Bush? Yes, God help us.

If I can keep their embrasures swept, sir, I'll slow their rate of fire, even if I don't silence them.

But the fort's still out of range. Yes.

Mr.

Bush, sir!

Please report to Mr.

Buckland.

And we're aground under fire.

Keep your mouth shut, Mr.

Wellard. I'll leave you in charge down here, Mr. Hornblower.

Aye, aye, sir.

You want of me, Mr.

Buckland?

We have to kedge off this confounded sandbank, Mr.

Bush. Aye, aye, sir.

Get a cable out aft through a stern port.

Very good, sir.

And, Roberts. Sir.

You must take the stream anchor off in the launch. Aye, aye, sir. And shall I take the men from my gun, sir? Do that. Shifting the weight would help. Tell Hornblower to take some.

Of the foremost guns and run them off.

There might be an alternative, sir.

What?

If I fired all my guns at once, it might just break the suction.

Worth trying, by God.

I'll have them loaded and ready in three minutes, sir.

I'll tell him, the captain.

Thank you, sir.

Load and double-shot your guns. Try them and run out.

Await my order. Very good, sir. I'm sure it's our best chance, Mr.

Butler.

No need to explain. We'll try it. It's a pretty pickle, Mr. Bush. Poor Roberts is dead.

Roberts?

Cut in two by a shot as he entered the launch. It makes you my.

Number two, Mr. Bush.

Settle at the capstan bars there. Brace your feet. Tell Mr. Hornblower to fire his guns when ready, Mr.

Bush. Aye, aye, sir.

Take the strain.

Heave there.

Heave!

Fire!

Cable shifting, by God!

I think so, sir.

Silence!

You will come to the quarterdeck with me, Mr.

Hornblower.

Aye, aye, sir.

No more firing till further orders!

Further orders, sir.

So far, so good, Mr. Bush. We're off ground, but we've lost the flood. If we touch again, kedging off may be impossible.

Yes, sir.

We could get out with a land breeze, sir. I know that as well as you do, Mr.

Hornblower.

But do you know what that means? It means defeat! My first command.

They'll pound us to pieces, sir.

There's no help for it. Help them heave in on the spring cable, Mr. Bush. Get a head round to sea.

Aye, aye, sir.

First heaving on the caps in there. Cast off, stern cable messenger.

Shall I warp her down the bay, Mr.

Buckland?

Yes, yes, warp her down.

When the tropic night closed down upon the battered renown, Buckland sent for Bush and me. His cabin was like an oven. Its two lanterns seemed to give out an intolerable heat. We sat staring at the chart upon the table. while the sweat trickled under our uniforms.

The question is, what's to do? Should we bear up for Jamaica?

I wouldn't go so far as to advise that, sir.

What else can we do, Mr.

Bush?

Tell me that.

If we head for Jamaica, sir, we go with our tail between our legs.

True.

All the same, there's Captain Sawyer to be thought of.

Captain Sawyer?

With a success to our record, there might be a less diligent inquiry into the matter of Captain Sawyer's supersession.

If we limp in defeated, I'm likely to.

Be asked why I took upon myself the responsibility of attacking Sir Manor Point.

What do you think, Mr Hornblower?

I agree, sir.

You do, do you?

Yes, sir.

We did our best, damn it. Anyone could run aground in the channel. Nothing could get up the bay under such a crossfire.

We might still make a landing on the seaward side, sir. A landing and a surprise attack.

Mr. Bush?

Well, sir... Go on. Mr. Hombler didn't mention me.

He thought a surprise landing might have more chance of success than bombardment of the Fortran battery. But that was before the Dons knew there was a ship of the line in the neighborhood. Why didn't you suggest this masterly plan to me, Mr.

Hornblower?

It was hardly my business, Mr. Buckland.

The responsibility for success or failure is mine. Have you changed your mind?

I think something might still be tried, sir. As long as it was tried at once.

You mean tonight?

It would be the best time, sir. The Dons have seen us driven off.

Excuse me, sir, but that's how it'll look to them. The last they saw of us was beating out of the bay at sunset. They'll be pleased with themselves. But an attack at dawn from another quarter over land, that would be the last thing they'd expect.

Might well be.

Just how would you make this attack, Mr Hornburn? Well, the wind's fair for Scotsman's Bay, sir. We could be there in less than two hours. We could have a landing party tolled off and prepared by the time we arrived, say, 100 seamen and the marines.

There's a good landing beach there. Inland, the country may be marshy.

Oh, that's here, sir.

Just below the hills of the peninsula. But we can land on the peninsula side of the marsh.

I marked a spot yesterday.

You did, did you? Go on.

Well, a landing party should reach the crest without difficulty. They can't lose their way with the sea on one side and Samana Bay on the other. They simply move along the crest, then rush the fort at dawn. What with the marsh and the cliffs, the dons are liable to keep a poor lookout on that side.

You make it all sound very easy, Mr Hornblower. With a hundred and eighty men?

Enough, I think, sir. What makes you so sure? There were six guns firing at us from the fort. I counted them. Ninety men at most. Sixty may be near the mark.

Add an ammunition party and men to heat their furnaces, a hundred and fifty men altogether.

More likely as few as a hundred.

Do you think such an attempt might succeed, Mr.

Bush? It might, sir, but time is getting on.

A second repulse would be ruin. Yet, once the fort is in our hands, we can deal with the privateers up the bay. They could never use it as an anchorage again.

That's true, sir.

Damn it, let's try it.

Very good, sir.

Now, who's to command?

It would have been Robert's duty, sir, if he'd lived.

Mr.

Bush, you will take command.

Yes, sir.

Who do you want to take with you?

Do you require me anymore, Mr.

Buckland?

If not, sir, I.

Do we need Mr. Hornblower anymore, Mr.

Bush?

I'd like Mr.

Hornblower to come with the landing party, sir.

Very well.

It will leave me with only one lieutenant aboard.

Several of the master's mates are good watch-keeping officers, sir.

Very well. You look troubled, Mr. Hornblower.

What is it?

I was wondering about altering course, sir. We could head for Scotsman's Bay at once and save a little time.

We'd better get her before the wind. We'll set course in a few minutes. Any further suggestions, Mr Hornblower?

Only one, sir.

We might take with us some grapnels with lines attached.

They might be useful if we have to scale the walls.

I agree. Remember to see the ratio. Yes, sir.

Will you need a runner?

It would be as well, sir.

Anyone particular?

A young wellard.

He's reasonably cool-headed and thinks quickly.

Then all is settled?

Yes, sir.

And it only remains to set course and issue the orders. You will see to it, Mr. Bush, if you please.

Aye, aye, sir.

Oh, Mr.

Hornblower, I've been meaning to ask you, how, in your opinion, did Captain Sawyer come to fall down the hatchway?

Well, I fancy he must have overbalanced, Mr.

Buckland.

The ship was lively that night, if you remember.

Yes, I suppose she was.

Very well, then, Mr.

Bush.

Carry on, if you please.

Good of you to ask for.

Me, Mr.

Bush.

You deserved it. It was your notion in the first instance.

I'm glad you picked young Wellard.

He needs a change from the ship.

After what he's had to put up with from Sawyer.

That's true enough.

Any more news of the captain?

Ask Clive. All he does is shrug his shoulders and wink and look the other way. But I can't believe Sawyer will last much longer.

I'd not be in Buckland's shoes.

Unless this landing comes off.

That certainly should help him.

I don't look forward to the inquiry for all that.

No.

Well.

If you'll have course set for Scotsman's Bay, I'll give the orders for the landing party.

You'll not forget the grapnels, Mr.

Bush, sir?

Do you ever forget anything, homeblower?

Where the Samana Peninsula began, a small watercourse had worn a wide gully in the cliff at the easterly end of the beach. That night, sea and surf and beach seemed to be afire with the phosphorescence of the water vividly lighting up the oar blades as the launches pulled ashore, carrying the landing party. We landed thigh-deep in water, and it seemed thigh-deep, too, in liquid fire. Our weapons and cartridge boxes held high to make sure they were not wetted.

Bush was excited and tense.

It was all I could do within the bounds of discipline to hold him back from plunging ahead at once in violent action. I might have sounded confident enough in Buckland's cabin. It was another matter on that beach in the darkness, with the conviction growing that on the success of our enterprise depended not only the lives of myself and Bush and 180 men, but also the reputation of Renown and First Lieutenant Buckland's professional future.

In part two of Lieutenant Hornblower, you heard Nigel Anthony in the title role... and as the narrator, with Terence Skelton as William Bush.

Mr.

Buckland was played by David Peart, Mr. Roberts, Paul Hertzberg, Wellard the boy, Mark Hudson, and Mr. Clive the surgeon, John Jardine. Location recordings were made...

Adventures_of_Horatio_Hornblower_the_-_Return_to_the_Fleet

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