“Repay ‘em in their own coin,” said Bush, with a grin of satisfaction. Yesterday the Renown had endured the hellish fire of redhot shot. To Bush the thought of roasting a few Dagoes was quite charming.
“That’s right, sir,” said Hornblower.
He was not grinning like Bush. There was a frown on his face; he was oppressed with the thought that the privateers might escape to continue their depredations elsewhere, and any means to reduce their chances should be used.
“But can you do it?” asked Bush suddenly. “D’ye know how to heat shot?”
“I’ll find out, sir.”
“I’ll wager no man of ours knows how.”
Shot could only be heated in a battery on land; a seagoing ship, constructed of inflammable material, could not run the risk of going into action with a flaming furnace inside her. The French, in the early days of the Revolutionary War, had made some disastrous experiments in the hope of finding a means of countering England’s naval superiority, but after a few ships had set themselves on fire they had given up the attempt. Seagoing men now left the use of the heated weapon to shorebased garrison artillery.
“I’ll try and find out for myself, sir,” said Hornblower. “There’s the furnace down there and all the gear.”
Hornblower stood in the sunshine, already far too hot to be comfortable. His face was pale, dirty and bearded, and in his expression eagerness and weariness were oddly at war.
“Have you had any breakfast yet?” asked Bush.