'Please, sir,' said Hunter.
'Well?'
'We can fight, sir. You give the word. Cold shot to drop in the boats when they try to board. We could beat 'em off once, perhaps.'
Hornblower's tortured misery nearly made him snap out 'Don't be a fool', but he checked himself. He contented himself with pointing to the frigate. Twenty guns were glaring at them at far less than point-blank range. The very boat the frigate was hoisting out would be manned by at least twice as many men as Le Rêve carried — she was no bigger than many a pleasure yacht. It was not odds of ten to one, or a hundred to one, but odds of ten thousand to one.
'I understand, sir,' said Hunter.
Now the Spanish frigate's boat was in the water, about to shove off.
'A private word with you, please, Mr Hornblower,' said the duchess suddenly.
Hunter and Winyatt heard what she said, and withdrew out of earshot.
'Yes, Your Grace?' said Hornblower.
The duchess stood there, still with her arm round her weeping maid, looking straight at him.