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etopsail swung her round again before the wind like a weathervane。 If there had been time to spare to set a fragment of sail farther aft she would have been saved； but in those enclosed waters there was no time to spare。 At one moment she was about to round the Corunna headland； at the next she had lost the opportunity for ever。
There was still the chance that she might fetch the opening to the Ferrol inlet； the wind was nearly fair for her to do that…nearly。 Hornblower on the Ferrol headland was thinking along with the Spanish captain down there on the heaving deck。 He saw him try to steady the ship so as to head for the narrow entrance； notorious among seamen for its difficulty。 He saw him get her on her course； and for a few seconds as she flew across the mouth of the bay it seemed as if the Spaniard would succeed； against all probability； in exactly hitting off the entrance to the inlet。 Then the backlash hit her again。 Had she been quick on the helm she might still have been safe； but with her sail pressure so outbalanced she was bound to be slow in her response to her rudder。 The shrieking wind blew her bows round； and it was instantly obvious； too； that she was doomed； but the Spanish captain played the game out to the last。 He would not pile his ship up against the foot of the low cliffs。 He put his helm hard over； with the aid of the wind rebounding from the cliffs he made a gallant attempt to clear the Ferrol headland altogether and give himself a chance to claw out to sea。
A gallant attempt； but doomed to failure as soon as begun； he actually cleared the headland； but the wind blew his bows round again； and； bows first； the ship plunged right at the long jagged line of the Devil's Teeth。 Hornblower； the mandant； and everyone； hurried across the headland to look down at the final act of the tragedy。 With tremendous speed； driving straight before the wind； she raced at the reef。 A roller picked her up as she neared it and seemed to increase her speed。 Then she struck； and vanished from sight for a second as the roller burst into spray all about her。 When the spray cleared she lay there transformed。 Her three masts had all gone with the shock； and it was only a black hull which emerged from the white foam。 Her speed and the roller behind her had carried her almost over the reef…doubtless tearing her bottom out…and she hung by her stern； which stood out clear of the water； while her bows were just submerged in the paratively still water in the lee of the reef。
There were men still alive on her。 Hornblower could see them crouching for shelter under the break of her poop。 Another Atlantic roller came surging up； and exploded on the Devil's Teeth； wrapping the wreck round with spray。 But yet she emerged again； black against the creaming foam。 She had cleared the reef sufficiently far to find shelter for most of her length in the lee of the thing that had destroyed her。 Hornblower could see those living creatures crouching on her deck。 They had a little longer to live…they might live five minutes； perhaps； if they were lucky。 Five hours if they were not。
All round him the Spaniards were shouting maledictions。 Women were weeping； some of the men were shaking their fists with rage at the British frigate； which； well satisfied with the destruction of her victim； had rounded…to in time and was now clawing out to sea again under storm canvas。 It was horrible to see those poor devils down there die。 If some larger wave than usual； bursting on the reef； did not lift the stern of the wreck clear so that she sank； she would still break up for the survivors to be whirled away with the fragments。 And； if it took a long time for her to break up； the wretched men sheltering there would not be able to endure the constant beating of the cold spray upon them。 Something should be done to save them； but no boat could round the headland and weather the Devil's Teeth to reach the wreck。 That was so obvious as not to call for a second thought。 But 。 。 。 Hornblower's thoughts began to race as he started to work on the alternatives。 The mandant on his horse was speaking vehemently to a Spanish naval officer； clearly on the same subject； and the naval officer was spreading his hands and saying that any attempt would be hopeless。 And yet 。 。 。 For two years Hornblower had been a prisoner； all his pent…up restlessness was seeking an outlet； and after two years of the misery of confinement he did not care whether he lived or died。 He went up to the mandant and broke into the argument。
'Sir；' he said； 'let me try to save them。 Perhaps from the little bay there。 。 。 。 Perhaps some of the fishermen would e with me。'
The mandant looked at the officer and the officer shrugged his shoulders。
'What do you suggest； sir？' asked the mandant of Hornblower。
'We might carry a boat across the headland from the dockyard；' said Hornblower； struggling to word his ideas in Spanish； 'but we must be quick…quick！'
He pointed to the wreck； and force was added to his words by the sight of a roller bursting over the Devil's Teeth。
'How would you carry a boat？' asked the mandant。
To shout his plan in English against that wind would have been a strain； to do so in Spanish was beyond him。
'I can show you at the dockyard； sir；' he yelled。 'I cannot explain。 But we must hurry！'
'You want to go to the dockyard； then？'
'Yes…oh； yes。'
'Mount behind me； sir；' said the mandant。
Awkwardly Hornblower scrambled up to a seat astride the horse's haunches and clutched at the mandant's belt。 He bumped frightfully as the animal wheeled round and trotted down the slope。 All the idlers of the town and garrison ran beside them。
The dockyard at Ferrol was almost a phantom organization； withered away like a tree deprived of its roots； thanks to the British blockade。 Situated as it was at the most distant corner of Spain； connected with the interior by only the roughest of roads； it relied on receiving its supplies by sea； and any such reliance was likely with British cruisers off the coast to be disappointed。 The last visit of Spanish ships of war had stripped the place of almost all its stores； and many of the dockyard hands had been pressed as seamen at the same time。 But all that Hornblower needed was there； as he knew； thanks to his careful observation。 He slid off the horse's hindquarters…miraculously avoiding an instinctive kick from the irritated animal…and collected his thoughts。 He pointed to a low dray…a mere platform on wheels…which was used for carrying beef barrels and brandy kegs to the pier。
'Horses；' he said； and a dozen willing hands set to work harnessing a team。
Beside the jetty floated half a dozen boats。 There was tackle and shears； all the apparatus necessary for swinging heavy weights about。 To put slings under a boat and swing her up was the work of only a minute or two。 These Spaniards might be dilatory and lazy as a rule； but inspire them with the need for instant action； catch their enthusiasm； present them with a novel plan； and they would work like madmen…and some of them were skilled workmen； too。 Oars； mast and sail （not that they would need the sail）； rudder； tiller and balers were all present。 A group came running from a store shed with chocks for the boat； and the moment these were set up on the dray the dray was backed under the tackle and the boat lowered on to them。
'Empty barrels；' said Hornblower。 'Little ones…so。'
A swarthy Galician fisherman grasped his intention at once and amplified Hornblower's halting sentences with voluble explanation。 A dozen empty water breakers； with their bungs driven well home； were brought； and the swarthy fisherman climbed on the dray and began to lash them under the thwarts。 Properly secured； they would keep the boat afloat even were she filled to the gunwale with water。
'I want six men；' shouted Hornblower； standing on the dray and looking round at the crowd。 'Six fishermen who know little boats。'
The swarthy fisherman lashing the breakers in the boat looked up from his task。
'I know whom we need； sir；' he said。
He shouted a string of names； and half a dozen men came forward； burly； weather…beaten fellows； with the self…reliant look in their faces of men used to meeting difficulties。 It was apparent that the swarthy Galician was their captain。
'Let us go； then；' said Hornblower； but the Galician checked him。
Hornblower did not hear what he said； but some of the crowd nodded； turned away； and came hastening back staggering under a breaker of fresh water and a box that must contain biscuit。 Hornblower was cross with himself for forgetting the possibility of their being blown out to sea。 And the mandant； still sitting his horse and watching these preparations with a keen eye； took note of these stores too。
'Remember； sir； that I have your parole；' he said。
'You have my parole； sir；' said Hornblower…for a few blessed moments he had actually forgotten that he was a prisoner。
The stores were safely put away into the sternsheets and the fishing…boat captain caught Hornblower's eye and got a nod from him。
'Let us go；' he roared to the crowd。
The iron…shod hoofs clashed on the cobbles and the dray lurched forward； with men leading the horses； men swar