*Chapter Two - The Sea-Wolf*
'He was outspoken, whereas officials admire reticence and discretion. He was resolute in exposing abuses and therefore constantly creating trouble ... and he had a strong spirit of independence - a quality which ... is singularly obnoxious to the official mind.'
'The Times', Obituary of Thomas Cochrane
*******
Hornblower had long since schooled himself to show no reaction to that name. "I remember him," he said calmly, "I did not know he was your cousin."
"Not a first cousin. I forget the exact connection, but we saw quite a bit of one another as boys."
Of course it should have been obvious who Cochrane's cousin must be. Would have been, had not the habit of blocking remembrance now been deep ingrained. And there was no physical resemblance - or... was there? Cochrane was a much bigger man with a quite different cast of feature, but the colouring was similar, and the setting of the blue eyes, and - yes, the same direct and unassuming gaze.... No. He would not remember. He would not.
"You served with him on the Renown," Cochrane was saying, "and I wish to know just how he came to die a convicted mutineer."
"Surely you know that already," Hornblower had been braced for the question, "He confessed, in open court."
"But he was badly wounded, was he not?" Cochrane persisted. "Sick and feverish."
"He was wounded, but his mind was clear enough. He knew what he said." Why did this have to happen, after so many years? Kennedy's immediate family seemed to have accepted his end with utter indifference, why did he have to be cousin to this man? Cochrane would not hesitate to challenge the official verdict if he could find the slightest grounds, the whole history of the man said that he would not.
"Was Captain Sawyer insane?" Hornblower had been braced for that one too. "There were rumours in the fleet...."
"Captain Sawyer," Hornblower said, "was a leader of men and he died in battle." Let that be enough....
It was not. "Was he insane?"
His choice had long ago been made; it was late and far too late, to change it now. "No. He was not."
"Did Archie assault him?"
"How the devil would I know?" Hornblower snarled. *Liar. You know.* "He said he did." *But not to me. He didn't say it to me.* "He knew what he was saying. Isn't that enough?"
"If Sawyer was fit for command why would he assault him?"
"I don't know! These things happen.."
"All I want," Cochrane said, "is justice for my cousin. If he did assault Sawyer, and Sawyer was fit for command, then that is that. But if he was made a scapegoat, then I want to know."
*And if I tell you he was, you'll burn down the world to prove it, won't you?* "Justice was done," Hornblower said flatly.
*
"He sent the tracts back, sir!" Bush was barely suppressing a grin.
"Sent them *back*?" Hornblower repeated, "What reason did he give?"
"Apparently he said that he had read the pamphlets, and considered to distribute them at the present might have unfortunate consequences for ship's discipline, sir." Bush was not hiding his satisfaction. Hornblower sighed. His first officer developing an admiration for Cochrane was about the last thing he had expected.
"That man," he said, "is riding for a fall. What did the Admiral do?"
"As far as I've heard, he hasn't done anything," the words could not be faulted, the tone held barely concealed scorn. Hornblower sighed again. He had no religious beliefs himself, but rather admired Lord Gambier's public championship of his Evangelical convictions. Unfortunately Cochrane was right: Gambier's piety did undermine discipline. The men resented his opposition to alcohol and visits from women other than wedded wives, and simply laughed at the religious tracts he insisted on having distributed. A Howe or a Collingwood might have genuinely influenced the men, not so 'Dismal Jimmie' as the seamen called him. And when it came to holding musters whilst on blockade in order to satisfy himself the men had been made familiar with his everlasting tracts.... Hornblower cut off the thought.
"Mr Bush, I will need you to keep a particularly close eye on below-decks discipline. We cannot have criticism", he could not say ridicule, "of the Admiral."
"Aye, aye, sir." Bush would do it, despite his personal dislike for the man who had sent Rear-Admiral Harvey home for court-martial. Bush understood about discipline. Ultimately though, the problem was not being caused by the men.
Gambier, Hornblower told himself sternly, was his commanding officer and a man with the welfare of the fleet at heart. If he was not the man for spectacular successes, nor did he perpetrate disasters. Yet somewhere, deep inside, the captain of the Lydia could hear the voice of a much younger Horatio Hornblower - and it was cheering Cochrane on.
*
Captain Hornblower scanned the distant anchorage through his eyeglass. Sending in fire-ships was all well and good, but it would likely take more than that to see that the French fleet was destroyed.
"Mr Bush," he said, "I will be taking a boat out tonight."
"Sir?"
"Captain Lord Cochrane intends to launch the attack through the Boyant channel. I feel it would be advisable to know exactly what lies ahead, in the event of the fire-ships being followed up by a boat-attack, or even a general attack by the fleet. I intend to examine the entrance and take soundings."
"Aye, aye, sir," Bush said, "I'll see all is made ready. Will you be wanting me with you, sir?"
"No, Mr Bush. I need you to stay with the ship." Perhaps he ought to send Bush to do the scouting, but Hornblower was never happy with that kind of delegation. He trusted Bush, but if there was any danger in the mission he wished to face it himself, not send another in his place.
*
Hornblower stretched his fingers, cramped from the time he had spent writing out, and mapping, his findings of the previous night. They were encouraging on the whole. The channel was a good two miles wide, deep and clear. Ample room to take the fleet in, should it be needed. There were overlooking batteries on the island of Aix, but he judged them weak.
Now, should he convey the findings to others? Cochrane knew the area from his previous raids, and Seymour had said he was a thorough planner, but surely it would at least be courteous to ask if he had all the information he needed. A polite formality had prevailed between them whilst the fleet captains worked on constructing the attacking vessels, but enough uneasiness remained from their first encounter for Hornblower to have decided against volunteering to take a fire-ship in. However despatching information was another matter. He would send and ask.
The reply was back with in an hour, graceful thanks, but Captain Cochrane had all the information necessary already. Hornblower was not offended, he had expected as much, but he did wonder if he should make the same offer to Gambier. After some thought he decided against it. Cochrane was in charge of the raid, and would no doubt have conveyed any information he thought necessary to Gambier. For Hornblower to communicate directly with the Admiral would look like an attempt to bypass the proper chain of command. The situation in the fleet was tense enough already, he was not about to risk adding oil to the flames.
'He was outspoken, whereas officials admire reticence and discretion. He was resolute in exposing abuses and therefore constantly creating trouble ... and he had a strong spirit of independence - a quality which ... is singularly obnoxious to the official mind.'
'The Times', Obituary of Thomas Cochrane
*******
Hornblower had long since schooled himself to show no reaction to that name. "I remember him," he said calmly, "I did not know he was your cousin."
"Not a first cousin. I forget the exact connection, but we saw quite a bit of one another as boys."
Of course it should have been obvious who Cochrane's cousin must be. Would have been, had not the habit of blocking remembrance now been deep ingrained. And there was no physical resemblance - or... was there? Cochrane was a much bigger man with a quite different cast of feature, but the colouring was similar, and the setting of the blue eyes, and - yes, the same direct and unassuming gaze.... No. He would not remember. He would not.
"You served with him on the Renown," Cochrane was saying, "and I wish to know just how he came to die a convicted mutineer."
"Surely you know that already," Hornblower had been braced for the question, "He confessed, in open court."
"But he was badly wounded, was he not?" Cochrane persisted. "Sick and feverish."
"He was wounded, but his mind was clear enough. He knew what he said." Why did this have to happen, after so many years? Kennedy's immediate family seemed to have accepted his end with utter indifference, why did he have to be cousin to this man? Cochrane would not hesitate to challenge the official verdict if he could find the slightest grounds, the whole history of the man said that he would not.
"Was Captain Sawyer insane?" Hornblower had been braced for that one too. "There were rumours in the fleet...."
"Captain Sawyer," Hornblower said, "was a leader of men and he died in battle." Let that be enough....
It was not. "Was he insane?"
His choice had long ago been made; it was late and far too late, to change it now. "No. He was not."
"Did Archie assault him?"
"How the devil would I know?" Hornblower snarled. *Liar. You know.* "He said he did." *But not to me. He didn't say it to me.* "He knew what he was saying. Isn't that enough?"
"If Sawyer was fit for command why would he assault him?"
"I don't know! These things happen.."
"All I want," Cochrane said, "is justice for my cousin. If he did assault Sawyer, and Sawyer was fit for command, then that is that. But if he was made a scapegoat, then I want to know."
*And if I tell you he was, you'll burn down the world to prove it, won't you?* "Justice was done," Hornblower said flatly.
*
"He sent the tracts back, sir!" Bush was barely suppressing a grin.
"Sent them *back*?" Hornblower repeated, "What reason did he give?"
"Apparently he said that he had read the pamphlets, and considered to distribute them at the present might have unfortunate consequences for ship's discipline, sir." Bush was not hiding his satisfaction. Hornblower sighed. His first officer developing an admiration for Cochrane was about the last thing he had expected.
"That man," he said, "is riding for a fall. What did the Admiral do?"
"As far as I've heard, he hasn't done anything," the words could not be faulted, the tone held barely concealed scorn. Hornblower sighed again. He had no religious beliefs himself, but rather admired Lord Gambier's public championship of his Evangelical convictions. Unfortunately Cochrane was right: Gambier's piety did undermine discipline. The men resented his opposition to alcohol and visits from women other than wedded wives, and simply laughed at the religious tracts he insisted on having distributed. A Howe or a Collingwood might have genuinely influenced the men, not so 'Dismal Jimmie' as the seamen called him. And when it came to holding musters whilst on blockade in order to satisfy himself the men had been made familiar with his everlasting tracts.... Hornblower cut off the thought.
"Mr Bush, I will need you to keep a particularly close eye on below-decks discipline. We cannot have criticism", he could not say ridicule, "of the Admiral."
"Aye, aye, sir." Bush would do it, despite his personal dislike for the man who had sent Rear-Admiral Harvey home for court-martial. Bush understood about discipline. Ultimately though, the problem was not being caused by the men.
Gambier, Hornblower told himself sternly, was his commanding officer and a man with the welfare of the fleet at heart. If he was not the man for spectacular successes, nor did he perpetrate disasters. Yet somewhere, deep inside, the captain of the Lydia could hear the voice of a much younger Horatio Hornblower - and it was cheering Cochrane on.
*
Captain Hornblower scanned the distant anchorage through his eyeglass. Sending in fire-ships was all well and good, but it would likely take more than that to see that the French fleet was destroyed.
"Mr Bush," he said, "I will be taking a boat out tonight."
"Sir?"
"Captain Lord Cochrane intends to launch the attack through the Boyant channel. I feel it would be advisable to know exactly what lies ahead, in the event of the fire-ships being followed up by a boat-attack, or even a general attack by the fleet. I intend to examine the entrance and take soundings."
"Aye, aye, sir," Bush said, "I'll see all is made ready. Will you be wanting me with you, sir?"
"No, Mr Bush. I need you to stay with the ship." Perhaps he ought to send Bush to do the scouting, but Hornblower was never happy with that kind of delegation. He trusted Bush, but if there was any danger in the mission he wished to face it himself, not send another in his place.
*
Hornblower stretched his fingers, cramped from the time he had spent writing out, and mapping, his findings of the previous night. They were encouraging on the whole. The channel was a good two miles wide, deep and clear. Ample room to take the fleet in, should it be needed. There were overlooking batteries on the island of Aix, but he judged them weak.
Now, should he convey the findings to others? Cochrane knew the area from his previous raids, and Seymour had said he was a thorough planner, but surely it would at least be courteous to ask if he had all the information he needed. A polite formality had prevailed between them whilst the fleet captains worked on constructing the attacking vessels, but enough uneasiness remained from their first encounter for Hornblower to have decided against volunteering to take a fire-ship in. However despatching information was another matter. He would send and ask.
The reply was back with in an hour, graceful thanks, but Captain Cochrane had all the information necessary already. Hornblower was not offended, he had expected as much, but he did wonder if he should make the same offer to Gambier. After some thought he decided against it. Cochrane was in charge of the raid, and would no doubt have conveyed any information he thought necessary to Gambier. For Hornblower to communicate directly with the Admiral would look like an attempt to bypass the proper chain of command. The situation in the fleet was tense enough already, he was not about to risk adding oil to the flames.