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e was a sharp crack； a puff of smoke from under the mallet； and when he lifted up the latter he could see that the cap was rent open； and the desk was marked with the stain of the explosion。
He looked at the pistols again。 He must have been blind； not to have noticed the absence of flint and priming pan。 The hammer rested on what appeared at first sight to be a simple block of metal； but this pivoted at a touch； revealing a shallow cavity below it clearly intended to receive a cap。 At the base of the cavity was a small hole which must municate with the breech end of the barrel。 Put a charge in the pistol； put a cap in the cavity； and fix it firm with the metal block。 Now snap the hammer down upon the block。 The cap explodes； the flame passes through the hole into the charge and the pistol is fired。 No haphazard arrangement of flint and priming： rain or spray could never put these pistols out of action。 Hornblower guessed there would not be a misfire once in a hundred shots。 It was a wonderful present … it was very thoughtful indeed of Barbara to buy them for him； Heaven only knew what they must have cost； some skilled workman must have laboured for months over the rifling of those four barrels； and the copper caps … five hundred of them； every one hand…made … must have cost a pretty penny of themselves。 But with those two pistols loaded he would have four men's lives in his hands； on a fine day with two flint…lock double…barrelled pistols he would expect one misfire； if not two； and if it were raining or there was spray flying it would be remarkable if he could fire a single shot。 To Hornblower's mind the rifling was not as important as the percussion caps； in the usual ship…board scuffle when pistols were likely to be used accuracy was not important； for one generally pressed the muzzle against one's adversary's stomach before pulling the trigger。
Hornblower laid the pistols in their velvet nests and mused on。 Dear Barbara。 She was always thinking for him； trying to anticipate his wants； but something more than that as well。 These pistols were an example of the way she tried to satisfy wants of his that he was not aware of。 She had lifted her eyebrows when he had said that Gibbon would be all the reading material he would need on this mission； and she had bought and packed a score of other books for him； one of them； he could see from here； was this new poem in the Spenser stanza； Childe Harold （whatever that might mean） by the mad peer Lord Byron。 Everyone had been talking about it just before his departure； he must admit he was glad of the chance to read it； although he would never have dreamed of buying it for himself。 Hornblower looked back over a life of Spartan self…denial with a twinge of queer regret that it should have ended； and then he got angrily out of his chair。 In another moment he would be wishing he were not married to Barbara； and that was perfect nonsense。
He could tell； down here in his cabin； that the Nonsuch was still close…hauled to the strong northwesterly breeze； she was lying over to it so steadily that there was little roll in her motion； although she was pitching deeply as she met the short North Sea rollers。 The tell…tale pass over his head showed that she was making good her course for the Skaw； and the whole cabin was resonant with the harping of the taut rigging transmitted through the timbers of the ship； while she creaked positively thunderously as she pitched； loud enough to make conversation difficult。 There was one frame that made a noise like a pistol shot at one particular moment of each pitch； and he had already grown so used to the sound as to be able to anticipate it exactly； judging it by the ship's motion。
He had been puzzled for a space by a peculiar irregular thud over his head； in fact； he had been so piqued at his inability to account for it that he had put on his hat and gone up on the quarter…deck to find out。 There was nothing in sight on the deck which seemed likely to have made that rhythmical noise； no pump at work； nobody beating out oakum … even if it were conceivable that such a thing could be done on the quarter…deck of a ship of the line； there were only Bush and the officers of the watch； who immediately froze into inconspicuous immobility when the great man appeared on the panion。 Heaven only knew what made that thumping； Hornblower began to wonder if his ears had deceived him and if the noise really came from a deck below。 He had to make a pretence of having e on deck for a purpose … interesting to find that even a modore； First Class； still had to sink to such subterfuges … and he began to stride up and down the weather side of the quarter…deck； hands behind him； head bowed forward； in the old fortable attitude。 Enthusiasts had talked or written of pleasures innumerable； of gardens or women； wine or fishing； it was strange that no one had ever told of the pleasure of walking a quarter…deck。
But what was it that had made that slow thumping noise？ He was forgetting why he had e upon deck。 He darted covert glances from under his brows as he walked up and down and still saw nothing to account for it。 The noise had not been audible since he came on deck； but still curiosity consumed him。 He stood by the taffrail and looked back at the flotilla。 The trim ship…rigged sloops were beating up against the strong breeze without difficulty； but the bomb…ketches were not so fortable。 The absence of a foremast； the huge triangular foresail； made it hard to keep them from yawing； even in a wind。 Every now and then they would put their stumpy bowsprits down and take the green sea in over their bows。
He was not interested in bomb…ketches。 He wanted to know what had been thumping the deck over his head when he was in his cabin； and then mon sense came to help him fight down his ridiculous self…consciousness。 Why should not a modore ask a simple question about a simple subject？ Why in the world had he even hesitated for a moment？ He swung round with determination。
〃Captain Bush？〃 he called。
〃Sir！〃 Bush came hastening aft to him； his wooden leg thumping the deck。
That was the noise！ With every second step Bush took； his wooden leg with its leather button came down with a thump on the planking。 Hornblower certainly could not ask the question he had just been forming in his mind。
〃I hope I shall have the pleasure of your pany at dinner this evening；〃 said Hornblower； thinking rapidly。
〃Thank you； sir。 Yes； sir。 Yes； indeed；〃 said Bush。 He beamed with pleasure at the invitation so that Hornblower felt positively hypocritical as he made his way down into the cabin to supervise the last of his unpacking。 Yet it was as well that he had been led by his own peculiar weaknesses to give that invitation instead of spending the evening； as he would otherwise have done； dreaming about Barbara； calling up in his mind the lovely drive through springtime England from Smallbridge to Deal； and making himself as miserable at sea as he had managed to make himself on land。
Bush would be able to tell him about the officers and men of the Nonsuch； who could be trusted and who must be watched； what was the material condition of the ship； if the stores were good or bad； and all