Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies

by C.S. Forester

Long, long ago, Barbara had said to him that good fortune is the portion of those who merit it.

He checked himself abruptly when he found himself talking a little too loudly and dogmatically regarding some point of trivial importance.

Sea power made its influence felt all over the wide oceans, but it was in the narrow seas, at the focal points, that the decisive moments occurred.

But it was not the measure of a man’s duty to avoid blame. He had a positive duty to do, and he had done it, in the only way possible.

Head money was paid by the British Government for slaves freed on the high seas, to the Royal Naval ships concerned in the capture of the slaves, and divided among the ship’s company like any other prize money.

There were few occasions when Hornblower could do what was right in Hornblower’s eyes.

Hornblower knew that there can be no love without respect — and no love without a twinkle of amusement as well.

Barbara lived up to the principle that no person of breeding should ever complain about things he was unable, or unwilling, to do anything to remedy.

He was able to confirm his reputation for tact by declaring quite truthfully — his candor was mistaken for the most diplomatic concealment of his own feelings — that he did not care in the least.