“And what’s your message?” asked Cogshill.
“The admiral’s compliments, sir, and he’d like Mr. Hornblower’s presence on board the flagship as soon as is convenient.”
“And dinner not half way finished!” commented Cogshill, looking at Hornblower. But an admiral’s request for something as soon as convenient meant immediately, convenient or not. Very likely it was a matter of no importance, either.
“I’d better leave, sir, if I may,” said Hornblower. He glanced at Buckland. “May I have a boat, sir?”
“Pardon me, sir,” interposed the midshipman. “The admiral said that the boat which brought me would serve to convey you to the flagship.”
“That settles it,” said Cogshill. “You’d better go, Mr. Hornblower. We’ll save some of this pepper pot for you against your return.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Hornblower, rising.
As soon as he had left, the captain asked the inevitable question.
“What in the world does the admiral want with Hornblower?”
He looked round the table and received no verbal reply. There was a strained look on Buckland’s face, however, as Bush saw. It seemed as if in his misery Buckland was clairvoyant.