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'But we're here. We have this chance. Wind and weather serve us now. It may be days before we have another opportunity.'

'Yes, sir,' said Prowse.

'Course east by south, Mr Prowse.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

Hotspur crept along. The day was cloudy but clear, and the horizon was extending every minute. There was the mainland of France, Pointe St Mathieu--Point Matthew--in plain view. From there the land trended away out of sight again.

'Land on the lee bow!' yelled Orrock from the fore-topmasthead.

'That'll be the other headland, sir,' said Prowse.

'Toulinguet,' agreed Hornblower and then he corrected his pronunciation of 'Toolingwette.' For months or years to come he might be beating about this coast, and he wanted no chance of misunderstanding with any of his officers when he gave orders.

Between those two headlands the Atlantic broke in through the wild Breton coast and reached deep inland to form the roadstead of Brest.

'Can you make out the channel yet, Mr Orrock?' yelled Hornblower.

'Not yet, sir. At least, not very well.'