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'Message from Mr Prowse, sir,' said a voice that Hornblower could hardly place. 'Wind's freshening an' hauling forward. Course will have to be altered, sir.'

'Very well. I'll come.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

He certainly would have to come. He stood up, holding on to the desk with one hand while he adjusted his clothes with the other. He braced himself, and then he plunged out on to the quarter-deck. He had forgotten all these things; he had forgotten how fresh the wind blew at sea, how the rigging shrieked in a gust, how the deck heaved under unwary feet. As the stern rose he was hurried forward, struggling vainly to retain his dignity, and just managed to fetch up without disaster against the hammock netting. Prowse came up at once.

'Course is sou'west by south, now, sir,' he said. 'I had to let her fall off a couple of points. Wind's still backing westerly.'

'So I see,' said Hornblower. He looked at sky and sea, making himself think. 'How's the glass?'

'Hardly fallen at all, sir. But it's going to blow harder before nightfall, sir.'