"I was aware of it," answered Gambier.
"Please go on, Captain."
Hornblower told of how he witnessed the destruction of the French squadron, of how Caillard arrived to take him to Paris, of his escape, first from his escort and then from drowning.
He made only a slight mention of Count de Gracay and of his voyage down the Loire — that was not an admiral's business — but he descended to fuller details when he told of his recapture of the Witch of Endor.
Details here were of importance, because in the course of the manifold activities of the British Navy it might easily happen that a knowledge of harbour arrangements at Nantes and of the navigational difficulties of the lower Loire might be useful.
"Good God Almighty, man," said Calendar, "how can you be so cold-blooded about it?
Weren't you —"
"Captain Calendar," interrupted Gambier, "I have requested you before not to allude to the Deity in that blasphemous fashion.
Any repetition will incur my serious displeasure.
Kindly continue, Captain Hornblower."
There was only the brush with the boats from Noirmoutier to be described now.
Hornblower continued, formally, but this time Gambier himself interrupted him.
"You say you opened fire with a six-pounder," he said.
"The prisoners were at the sweeps, and the ship had to be steered.
Who laid the gun?"
"I did, my lord.
The French pilot helped me."
"M'm. And you frightened 'em off?"
Hornblower confessed that he had succeeded in sinking two out of the three boats sent against him.
Calendar whistled his surprise and admiration, but the hard lines in Gambier's face only set harder still.
"Yes?" he said.
"And then?"
"We went on under sweeps until midnight, my lord, and then we picked up a breeze.
We sighted Triumph at dawn."
There was silence in the cabin, only broken by the noises on deck, until Gambier stirred in his chair.
"I trust, Captain," he said, "that you have given thanks to the Almighty for these miraculous preservations of yours.
In all these adventures I can see the finger of God.
I shall direct my chaplain at prayers this evening to make a special mention of your gratitude and thankfulness."
"Yes, my lord."
"Now you will make your report in writing.
You can have it ready by dinner time — I trust you will give me the pleasure of your company at dinner?
I will then be able to enclose it in the packet I am about to despatch to Their Lordships."
"Yes, my lord."
Gambier was still thinking deeply.
"Witch of Endor can carry the despatches," he said.
Like every admiral the world over, his most irritating and continuous problem was how to collect and disseminate information without weakening his main body by detachments; it must have been an immense relief to him to have the cutter drop from the clouds as it were, to carry these despatches.
He went on thinking.
"I will promote this lieutenant of yours, Bush, into her as Commander," he announced.
Hornblower gave a little gasp.
Promotion to Commander meant almost certain post rank within the year, and it was this power of promotion which constituted the most prized source of patronage an Admiral in command possessed.
Bush deserved the step, but it was surprising that Gambier should give it to him — Admirals generally had some favourite lieutenant, or some nephew or some old friend's son awaiting the first vacancy.
Hornblower could imagine Bush's delight at the news that he was at last on his way to becoming an admiral himself if he lived long enough.
But that was not all, by no means all.
Promotion of a captain's first lieutenant was a high compliment to the captain himself. It set the seal of official approval on the captain's proceedings.
This decision of Gambier's was a public — not merely a private — announcement that Hornblower had acted correctly.
"Thank you, my lord, thank you," said Hornblower.
"She is your prise, of course," went on Gambier.
"Government will have to buy her on her arrival."
Hornblower had not thought of that.
It meant at least a thousand pounds in his pocket.