'I saw three, sir.'
'Then there's no damage done. But a bold endeavour. Whoever would have credited the Dons with making such an attempt?'
'They have learned about fire ships from us, perhaps, sir,' suggested Hornblower.
'We may have "nursed the pinion that impelled the steel," you think?'
'It is possible, sir.'
Foster was a cool enough customer, quoting poetry and discussing the naval situation while being carried off into captivity by a Spaniard who guarded him with a drawn knife. Cool might be a too accurate adjective; Hornblower was shivering in his wet clothes as the chill night air blew over him, and he felt weak and feeble after all the excitement and exertions of the day.
'Boat ahoy!' came a hail across the water; there was a dark nucleus in the night over there. The Spaniard in the sternsheets instantly dragged the tiller over, heading the boat directly away from it, while the two at the oars redoubled their exertions.
'Guard boat—' said Foster, but cut his explanation short at a further threat from the knife.
Of course there would be a boat rowing guard at this northern end of the anchorage; they might have thought of it.
'Boat ahoy!' came the hail again. 'Lay on your oars or I'll fire into you!'