'Number One's letting us have the second cutter,' said Danvers. 'Masters and Simpson and that lot are going first in the launch. Here's Preston.'
Another shadowy figure loomed up in the darkness.
'Hellish cold,' said Preston. 'The devil of a morning to turn out. Nelson, where's that tea?'
The mess attendant came with it as Hornblower was hauling on his trousers. It maddened Hornblower that he shivered enough in the cold for the cup to clatter in the saucer as he took it. But the tea was grateful, and Hornblower drank it eagerly.
'Give me another cup,' he said, and was proud of himself that he could think about tea at that moment.
It was still dark as they went down into the cutter.
'Shove off,' said the coxswain, and the boat pushed off from the ship's side. There was a keen cold wind blowing which filled the dipping lug as the cutter headed for the twin lights that marked the jetty.
'I ordered a hackney coach at the George to be waiting for us,' said Danvers. 'Let's hope it is.'
It was there, with the driver sufficiently sober to control his horse moderately well despite his overnight potations. Danvers produced a pocket flask as they settled themselves in with their feet in the straw.
'Take a sip, Hornblower?' he asked, proffering it. 'There's no special need for a steady hand this morning.'