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Mrs Mason marshalled the tiny procession in business-like fashion. Hornblower felt Maria's hand slipped under his arm, felt the light pressure she could not help giving to it, and--he could not be cruel enough to ignore it--he pressed her hand in return, between his ribs and his elbow, to be rewarded by another smile. A small shove from behind by Mrs Mason started him back in the church, to be greeted by a roar from the organ. Half a crown for the organist and a shilling for the blower was what that music had cost Mrs Mason; there might be better uses for the money. The thought occupied Hornblower's mind for several seconds, and was naturally succeeded by the inevitable wonderment as to how anyone could possibly find enjoyment in these distasteful noises. He and Maria were well down the aisle before he came back to reality.

'The sailors are all gone,' said Maria with a break in her voice. 'There's almost no one in the church.'

Truth to tell, there were only two or three people in the pews, and these obviously the most casual idlers. All the few guests had trooped into the vestry for the signing, and the fifty seamen whom Bush had brought from Hotspur--all those who could be trusted not to desert--had vanished already. Hornblower felt a vague disappointment that Bush had failed again to rise to the situation.