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at to take him back to his ship； to which it was his bounden duty to go as soon as possible。 After the captains had reached their destinations he could use this boat to reach the Indefatigable。 He threw himself off into the sternsheets as she pushed off； knocking the breath out of Captain Harvey； his sword scabbard clattering on the gunwale。 But the three captains accepted his uninvited presence there without ment。
'Pull for the Dreadnought；' said Foster。
'Dammit； I'm the senior！' said Hammond。 'Pull for Calypso。'
'Calypso it is；' said Harvey。 He had his hand on the tiller； heading the boat across the dark water。
'Pull！ Oh； pull！' said Foster； in agony。 There can be no mental torture like that of a captain whose ship is in peril and he not on board。
'There's one of them；' said Harvey。
Just ahead； a small brig was bearing down on them under topsails； they could see the glow of the fire； and as they watched the fire suddenly burst into roaring fury； wrapping the whole vessel in flames in a moment； like a set piece in a fireworks display。 Flames spouted out of the holes in her sides and roared up through her hatchways。 The very water around her glowed vivid red。 They saw her halt in her career and begin to swing slowly around。
'She's across Santa Barbara's cable；' said Foster。
'She's nearly clear；' added Hammond。 'God help 'em on board there。 She'll be alongside her in a minute。'
Hornblower thought of two thousand Spanish and French prisoners battened down below decks in the hulk。
'With a man at her wheel she could be steered clear；' said Foster。 'We ought to do it！'
Then things happened rapidly。 Harvey put the tiller over。 'Pull away！' he roared at the boatmen。
The latter displayed an easily understood reluctance to row up to that fiery hull。
'Pull！' said Harvey。
He whipped out his sword from its scabbard； and the blade reflected the red fire as he thrust it menacingly at the stroke oar's throat。 With a kind of sob； stroke tugged at his oar and the boat leaped forward。
'Lay us under her counter。' said Foster。 'I'll jump for it。'
At last Hornblower found his tongue。 'Let me go； sir。 I'll handle her。'
'e with me； if you like；' replied Foster。 'It may need two of us。'
His nickname of Dreadnought Foster may have had its origin in the name of his ship； but it was appropriate enough in all circumstances。 Harvey swung the boat under the fire ship's stern； she was before the wind again now； and just gathering way； just heading down upon the Santa Barbara。
For a moment Hornblower was the nearest man in the boat to the brig and there was no time to be lost。 He stood up on the thwart and jumped； his hands gripped something； and with a kick and a struggle he dragged his ungainly body up onto the deck。 With the brig before the wind； the flames were blown forward； right aft here it was merely frightfully hot； but Hornblower's ears were filled with the roar of the flames and the crackling and banging of the burning wood。 He stepped forward to the wheel and seized the spokes； the wheel was lashed with a loop of line； and as he cast this off and took hold of the wheel again he could feel the rudder below him bite into the water。 He flung his weight on the spoke and spun the wheel over。 The brig was about to collide； with the Santa Barbara； starboard bow to starboard bow； and the flames lit an anxious gesticulating crowd on the Santa Barbara's forecastle。
'Hard over！' roared Foster's voice in Hornblower's ear。
'Hard over it is！' said Hornblower； and the brig answered her wheel at that moment； and her bow turned away； avoiding the collision。
An immense fountain of flame poured out from the hatchway abaft the mainmast； setting mast and rigging ablaze； and at the same time a flaw of wind blew a wave of flame aft。 Some instinct made Hornblower while holding the wheel with one hand snatch out his neckcloth with the other and bury his face in it。 The flame whirled round him and was gone again。 But the distractions had been dangerous； the brig had continued to turn under full helm； and now her stern was swinging in to bump against the Santa Barbara's bow。 Hornblower desperately spun the wheel over the other way。 The flames had driven Foster aft to the taffrail； but now he returned。
'Hard…a…lee！'
The brig was already responding。 Her starboard quarter bumped the Santa Barbara in the waist； and then bumped clear。
'Midships！' shouted Foster。
At a distance of only two or three yards the fire ship passed on down the Santa Barbara's side； an anxious group ran along her gangways keeping up with her as she did so。 On the quarterdeck another group stood by with a spar to boom the fire ship off； Hornblower saw them out of the tail of his eye as they went by。 Now they were clear。
'There's the Dauntless on the port bow；' said Foster。 'Keep her clear。'
'Aye； aye； sir。'
The din of the fire was tremendous； it could hardly be believed that on this little area of deck it was still possible to breathe and live。 Hornblower felt the appalling heat on his hands and face。 Both masts were immense pyramids of flame。
'Starboard a point；' said Foster。 'We'll lay her aground on the shoal by the Neutral Ground。'
'Starboard a point；' responded Hornblower。
He was being borne along on a wave of the highest exaltation； the roar of the fire was intoxicating； and he knew not a moment's fear。 Then the whole deck only a yard or two forward of the wheel opened up in flame。 Fire spouted out of the gaping seams and the heat was utterly unbearable； and the fire moved rapidly aft as the seams gaped progressively backward。
Hornblower felt for the loopline to lash the wheel； but before he could do so the wheel spun idly under his hand； presumably as the tiller ropes below him were burned away； and at the same time the deck under his feet heaved and warped in the fire。 He staggered back to the taffrail。 Foster was there。
'Tiller ropes burned away； sir；' reported Hornblower。
Flames roared up beside them。 His coat sleeve was smouldering。
'Jump！' said Foster。
Hornblower felt Foster shoving him…everything was insane。 He heaved himself over； gasped with fright as he hung in the air； and then felt the breath knocked out of his body as he hit the water。 The water closed over him； and he knew panic as he struggled back to the surface。 It was cold…the Mediterranean in December is cold。 For the moment the air in his clothes supported him； despite the weight of the sword at his side； but he could see nothing in the darkness； with his eyes still dazzled by the roaring flames。 Somebody splashed beside him。
'They were following us in the boat to take us off；' said Foster's voice。 'Can you swim？'
'Yes； sir。 Not very well。'
'That might describe me；' said Foster； and then he lifted his voice to hail； 'Ahoy！ Ahoy！ Hammond！ Harvey！ Ahoy！'
He tried to raise himself as well as his voice； fell back with a splash； and splashed and splashed again； the water flowing into his mouth cutting short something he tried to say。 Hornblower； beating the water with increasing feebleness； could still spare a thought…such were the vagaries of his wayward mind…for the interesting fact that even captains of much seniority were only mortal men after all。 He tried to unbuckle his sword belt； failed； and sank deep with the effort； only just succeeding in struggling back to the surface。 He gasped fair breath； but in another attempt he managed to draw his sword half out of its scabbard； and as he struggled it slid out the rest of the way by its own weight； yet he was not conscious of any noticeable relief。
It was then that he heard the splashing and grinding of oars and loud voices； and he saw the dark shape of the approaching boat； and he uttered a spluttering cry。 In a second or two the boat was up to them； and he was clutching the gunwale in panic。
They were lifting Foster in over the stern； and Hornblower knew he must keep still and make no effort to climb in； but it called for all his resolution to make himself hang quietly onto the side of the boat and wait his turn。 He was interested in this overmastering fear； while he despised himself for it。 It called for a conscious and serious effort of willpower to make his h