'Call all hands. Quietly,' said Hornblower.
But as he gave the order he wondered if it would be any use. He could send his men to their stations, he could man and load his four-pounders, but if that ship out there in the fog was of any force greater than a merchant ship he was in deadly peril. Then he tried to comfort himself — perhaps the ship was some fat Spanish galleon bulging with treasure, and were he to board her boldly she would become his prize and make him rich for life.
'A 'appy Valentine's day to you,' said a voice beside him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise. He had actually forgotten the presence of the duchess on board.
'Stop that row!' he whispered furiously at her, and she pulled up abruptly in astonishment. She was bundled up in a cloak and hood against the damp air, and no further detail could be seen of her in the darkness and fog.
'May I hask—' she began.
'Shut up!' whispered Hornblower.
A harsh voice could be heard through the fog, other voices repeating the order, whistles being blown, much noise and bustle.
'That's Spanish, sir, isn't it?' whispered Hunter.
'Spanish for certain. Calling the watch. Listen!'
The two double-strokes of a ship's bell came to them across the water. Four bells in the morning watch. And instantly from all round them a dozen other bells could be heard, as if echoing the first.