“Yes,” said Bush, reluctantly. It was a matter necessarily arising out of the previous one, but it had a suspicious sound to it, now that Hornblower had suggested the possibility of further negotiations.
So the day proceeded to wear into afternoon. A full hour was consumed in haggling over the wording of the parole under which the captured soldiers were to be released. It was two o’clock before agreement was reached, and later than that before Bush, standing by the main gate, watched the women troop out through it, carrying their bundles of belongings. The boat could not possibly carry them all; two trips had to be made with them before the male prisoners, starting with the wounded, could begin. To rejoice Bush’s heart the Renown appeared at last round the point; with the sea breeze beginning to blow she came nobly up the bay.
And here came Hornblower again, clearly so weary that he could hardly drag one foot after another, to touch his hat to Bush.
“ Renown knows nothing about the suspension of hostilities, sir,” he said. “She’ll see the boat crossing full of Spanish soldiers, an’ she’ll open fire as sure as a gun.”
“How are we to let her know?”
“I’ve been discussing it with Ortega, sir. He’ll lend us a boat and we can send a message down to her.”
“I suppose we can.”
Sleeplessness and exhaustion had given an edge to Bush’s temper. This final suggestion, when Bush came to consider it, with his mind slowed by fatigue, was the last straw.
“You’re taking altogether too much on yourself, Mr. Hornblower,” he said. “Damn it, I’m in command here.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hornblower, standing at attention, while Bush gazed at him and tried to reassemble his thoughts after this spate of ill temper. There was no denying that Renown had to be informed; if she were to open fire it would be in direct violation of an agreement solemnly entered into, and to which he himself was a party.