Hornblower: The Duchess and the Devil Page #3

and not use it?

I believe they will come out

to fight.

And you hope

you will be there

When they do, don't you,

Mr. Hornblower?

Indeed, I do, Your Grace.

Hunter:

There's two swivel guns

on each side.

We won't be able to put up

much of a fight, sir.

We won't put up any fight,

Mr. Hunter; we will run.

We'll head due south out

of Gibrattar, Matthews.

Put some sea

between ourselves

and any frog privateer

lurking in Algeciras

before we head west.

Matthews:

Aye aye, sir.

Once through the straits

and off Tarifa

we will set a course nor-nor west

for Cape St. Vincent.

Boat ahoy!

Captain Pellew's

coming aboard, sir.

And, uh, a lady, sir.

Nice dress, sir;

good looking.

Don't froth at the mouth, Styles.

You've seen a woman before,

man.

Not in six bloody months,

I haven't.

Call this a ship, Mr. H?

Welcome aboard,

Your Grace.

I'd be frit out of my wits crossing

Thames in this.

She's safe enough,

Your Grace.

Mr. Hunter will show you

to your cabin.

Thank you.

Ma'am.

Mr. Hunter.

Mr. Hornblower.

The port admiral gave me these.

They are for the admiratty.

They contain information

worth more

Than the whole

of Jervis's squadron.

Should you be boarded or

even threatened with boarding

These go to the bottom

of the sea.

Aye aye, sir.

Well, wind is set fair.

Duchess:

I say, Mr. Hornblower.

Your Grace.

I'm used to roughing it.

But, um... but, I can

hardly unbutton myself

in that damn cupboard.

Could you swap me your cabin?

I believe Mr. Hornblower

has already given you

his cabin, Your Grace.

It is the best I can offer,

Your Grace.

Oh, there I go again, putting

my foot in my mouth.

(laughter)

I do apologize, Mr. H.

Well, I'm sure you want me

out the way

so you can sail the damn thing.

Sir Edward...

How can I ever thank you?

No, not at all,

Your Grace.

Not at all.

Well, she's all yours,

Mr. Hornblower.

Good luck, sir.

What are you staring at?

All hands to the windlass.

Do you want to waste

this wind?

All hands

to the windlass!

Ma'am.

Oops.

Duchess (weakly):

Yes.

Forgive me for disturbing you,

Your Grace.

I was wondering,

would you do the honor

of joining me for dinner?

Oh, bugger dinner.

When is this storm going to end?

Storm, Your Grace?

We have a fair wind

and a calm sea.

Leave me alone.

(retches)

It's coming up

thick, sir.

It'll be thicker

by morning.

Atter course, Matthews,

due west.

We can't risk not clearing

Cape St. Vincent.

Plenty of sea-room,

sir.

To atter course

will only delay us.

Thank you, Mr. Hunter.

When I need your opinion,

I'll ask for it.

Atter course, Matthews.

Aye aye, sir.

She's, uh, quite some woman,

that duchess

Isn't she, sir?

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