“Well?”
“I saw Mr. Hornblower, sir.” The relief in the corporal’s voice echoed the relief he must have felt at finding someone to take over his enormous responsibility. “’E was with young Mr. Wellard, I think ‘is name is. Mr. Hornblower, ‘e told me to stand guard ‘ere, sir, after I told ‘im about the cap’n.”
“It sounds as if you did right, corporal,” said Buckland, judicially.
“Thank ‘ee, sir. Thank ‘ee, sir.”
Coleman came climbing up the ladder, and with another glance at Buckland for permission passed the gear he had left down to someone else under the hatchway. Then he descended again. Bush was looking at the corporal, who, now his tale was told, was selfconsciously awkward again under the concentrated gaze of four lieutenants.
“Now, corporal,” said Hornblower, speaking unexpectedly and with deliberation. “You have no idea how the captain came to fall down the hatchway?”
“No, sir. Indeed I haven’t, sir.”
Hornblower shot one single glance at his colleagues, one and no more. The corporal’s words and Hornblower’s glance were vastly reassuring.
“He was excited, you say? Come on, man, speak up.”
“Well, yessir.” The corporal remembered his earlier unguarded statement, and then in a sudden flood of loquacity he went on: “’E was yellin’ after us down the hatchway, sir. I expect ‘e was leanin’ over. ‘E must ‘ave been leanin’ when the ship pitched, sir. ‘E could catch ‘is foot on the coamin’ and fall ‘ead first, sir.”