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'No,' he said. 'We'll put the ship about.'

'Aye aye, sir,' said Prowse, in reluctant agreement.

Hornblower looked towards Cargill, summoning him with a glance; he did not wish to leave the comforting support of the hammock netting.

'Mr Cargill,' said Hornblower. 'Let's see you tack the ship again, now that we've altered her trim.'

'Aye aye, sir,' answered Cargill. That was the only thing the poor devil could say in any case, in reply to a direct order. But he was clearly nervous. He went back to the wheel and took the speaking-trumpet from its beckets--the freshening wind made that necessary.

'Hands 'bout ship!' he called, and the order was instantly underlined by the calls of the bos'n's mates and the bellowings of Mr Wise. The hands ran to their stations. Cargill stared round at wind and sea; Hornblower saw him swallow as he nerved himself. Then he gave the order to the wheel; this time it was the fingers of his left hand that drummed upon his thigh, for his right was occupied by the speaking-trumpet. Hotspur rose to an even keel while sheets and braces were being handled. She was turning--she was turning.