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eight。
'Let us go；' said Hornblower； but the steersman needed no telling。
Already he had allowed the wind to drift the boat away from the wreck； away from the rocks…away from the shore。 An occasional strong pull at the oars sufficed to keep her bows to wind and wave。 Hornblower looked down at the fainting survivors lying in the bottom of the boat with the water washing over them。 He bent down and shook them into consciousness； he picked up the balers and forced them into their numb hands。 They must keep active or die。 It was astounding to find darkness closing about them； and it was urgent that they should decide on their next move immediately。 The men at the oars were in no shape for any prolonged further rowing； if they tried to return to the sandy cove whence they had started they might be overtaken both by night and by exhaustion while still among the treacherous rocks off the shore there。 Hornblower sat down beside the Galician captain； who laconically gave his views while vigilantly observing the waves racing down upon them。
'It's growing dark；' said the captain； glancing round the sky。 'Rocks。 The men are tired。'
'We had better not go back；' said Hornblower。
'No。'
'Then we must get out to sea。'
Years of duty on blockade； of beating about off a lee shore； had ingrained into Hornblower the necessity for seeking searoom。
'Yes；' said the captain； and he added something which Hornblower； thanks to the wind and his unfamiliarity with the language； was unable to catch。 The captain roared the expression again； and acpanied his words with a vivid bit of pantomime with the one hand he could spare from the steering oar。
'A sea anchor；' decided Hornblower to himself。 'Quite right。'
He looked back at the vanishing shore； and gauged the direction of the wind。 It seemed to be backing a little southerly； the coast here trended away from them。 They could ride to a sea anchor through the hours of darkness and run no risk of being cast ashore as long as these conditions persisted。
'Good；' said Hornblower aloud。
He imitated the other's bit of pantomime and the captain gave him a glance of approval。 At a bellow from him the two men forward took in their oars and set to work at constructing a sea anchor…merely a pair of oars attached to a long painter paid out over the bows。 With this gale blowing the pressure of the wind on the boat set up enough drag on the float to keep their bows to the sea。 Hornblower watched as the sea anchor began to take hold of the water。
'Good；' he said again。
'Good；' said the captain； taking in his steering oar。
Hornblower realized only now that he had been long exposed to a winter gale while wet to the skin。 He was numb with cold； and he was shivering uncontrollably。 At his feet one of the three survivors of the wreck was lying helpless； the other two had succeeded in baling out most of the water and as a result of their exertions were conscious and alert。 The men who had been rowing sat drooping with weariness on their thwarts。 The Galician captain was already down in the bottom of the boat lifting the helpless man in his arms。 It was a mon impulse of them all to huddle down into the bottom of the boat； beneath the thwarts； away from that shrieking wind。
So the night came down on them。 Hornblower found himself weling the contact of other human bodies； he felt an arm round him and he put his arm round someone else。 Around them a little water still surged about on the floorboards； above them the wind still shrieked and howled。 The boat stood first on her head and then on her tail as the waves passed under them； and at the moment of climbing each crest she gave a shuddering jerk as she snubbed herself to the sea anchor。 Every few seconds a new spat of spray whirled into the boat upon their shrinking bodies； it did not seem long before the accumulation of spray in the bottom of the boat made it necessary for them to disentangle themselves； and set about； groping in the darkness； the task of baling the water out again。 Then they could huddle down again under the thwarts。
It was when they pulled themselves together for the third baling that in the middle of his nightmare of cold and exhaustion Hornblower was conscious that the body across which his arm lay was unnaturally stiff； the man the captain had been trying to revive had died as he lay there between the captain and Hornblower。 The captain dragged the body away into the sternsheets in the darkness； and the night went on； cold wind and cold spray； jerk； pitch； and roll； sit up and bale and cower down and shudder。 It was hideous torment； Hornblower could not trust himself to believe his eyes when he saw the first signs that the darkness was lessening。 And then the grey dawn came gradually over the grey sea； and they were free to wonder what to do next。 But as the light increased the problem was solved for them； for one of the fishermen； raising himself up in the boat； gave a hoarse cry； and pointed to the northern horizon； and there； almost hull…up； was a ship； hove…to under storm canvas。 The captain took one glance at her…his eyesight must have been marvellous…and identified her。
'The English frigate；' he said。
She must have made nearly the same amount of leeway hove…to as the boat did riding to her sea anchor。
'Signal to her；' said Hornblower； and no one raised any objections。
The only white object available was Hornblower's shirt； and he took it off； shuddering in the cold； and they tied it to an oar and raised the oar in the maststep。 The captain saw Hornblower putting on his dripping coat over his bare ribs and in a single movement peeled off his thick blue jersey and offered it to him。
'Thank you； no；' protested Hornblower； but the captain insisted； with a wide grin he pointed to the stiffened corpse lying in the sternsheets and announced he would replace the jersey with the dead man's clothing。
The argument was interrupted by a further cry from one of the fishermen。 The frigate was ing to the wind； with treble…reefed fore and maintopsails she was heading for them under the impulse of the lessening gale。 Hornblower saw her running down on them； a glance in the other direction showed him the Galician mountains； faint on the southern horizon…warmth； freedom and friendship on the one hand； solitude and captivity on the other。 Under the lee of the frigate the boat bobbed and heaved fantastically； many inquisitive faces looked down on them。 They were cold and cramped； the frigate dropped a boat and a couple of nimble seamen scrambled on board。 A line was flung from the frigate； a whip lowered a breeches ring into the boat； and the English seamen helped the Spaniards one by one into the breeches and held them steady as they were swung up to the frigate's deck。
'I go last；' said Hornblower when they turned to him。 'I am a King's officer。'
'Good Lor' lumme；' said the seamen。
'Send the body up； too；' said Hornblower。 'It can be given decent burial。'
The stiff corpse was grotesque as it swayed through the air。 The Galician captain tried to dispute with Hornblower the honour of going last； but Hornblower would not be argued with。 Then finally the seamen helped him put his legs into the breeches； and secured him with a line round his waist。 Up he soared； swaying dizzily with the roll of the ship； then they drew him in to the deck； lowering and shortening； until half a dozen strong arms took his weight and laid him gently on the deck。
'There you are； my hearty； safe and sound；' said a bearded seaman。
'I am a King's officer；' said Hornblower。 'Where's the officer of the watch？'
Wearing marvellous dry clothing； Hornblower found himself soon drinking hot rum…and…water in the cabin of Captain George Crome； of His Majesty's frigate Syrtis。 Crome was a thin pale man with a depressed expression； but Hornblower knew of him as a first…rate officer。
'These Galicians make good seamen；' said Crome。 'I can't press them。 But perhaps a few will volunteer sooner than go to a prison hulk。'
'Sir；' said Hornblower； and hesitated。 It is ill for a junior lieutenant to argue with a post captain。
'Well？'
'Those men came to sea to save life。 They are not liable to capture。'
Crome's cold grey eyes became actively frosty…Hornblower was right about it being ill for a junior lieutenant to argue with a post captain。
'Are you telling me my duty； sir？' he asked。
'Good heavens no； sir；' said Hornblower hastily。 'It's a long time since I read the Admiralty Instructions and I expect my memory's at fault。'
'Admiralty Instructions； eh？' said Crome； in a slightly different tone of voice。
'I expect I'm wrong； sir；' said Hornblower； 'but I seem to remember the same instruction applied to the other two…the survivors。'
Even a post captain could only contravene Admiralty Instructions at his peril。
'I'll consider it；' said Crome。
'I had the dead man sent on board； sir；' went on Hornblower； 'in the hope that perhaps you might give him proper burial。 Those Galicians risked their lives to save him； sir； and I expect they'd be gratified。''
'A Popish burial？ I'll give orders to give 'em a free hand。'
'Thank you； sir；' said Hornblower。
'And now as regards yourself。 You say you hold a mission as lie