csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第16章

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ind　continued　to　work。　He　had　been　resolute　enough　in　dealing　with　Hales。　Where　he　personally　was　not　involved　he　had　been　brave　enough；　he　had　not　hesitated　to　strike　down　the　wretched　epileptic　with　all　the　strength　of　his　arm。　That　was　the　poor　sort　of　courage　he　was　capable　of　displaying。　In　the　simple　vulgar　matter　of　physical　bravery　he　was　utterly　wanting。　This　was　cowardice；　the　sort　of　thing　that　men　spoke　about　behind　their　hands　to　other　men。　He　could　not　bear　the　thought　of　that　in　himself…it　was　worse　（awful　though　the　alternative　might　be）　than　the　thought　of　falling　through　the　night　to　the　deck。　With　a　gasp　he　brought　his　knee　up　onto　the　yard；　heaving　himself　up　until　he　stood　upright。　He　felt　the　rounded；　canvas…covered　timber　under　his　feet；　and　his　instincts　told　him　not　to　dally　there　for　a　moment。
　'e　on；　men！'　he　yelled；　and　he　dashed　out　along　the　yard。
　It　was　twenty　feet　to　the　yardarm；　and　he　covered　the　distance　in　a　few　frantic　strides。　Utterly　reckless　by　now；　he　put　his　hands　down　on　the　yard；　clasped　it；　and　laid　his　body　across　it　again；　his　hands　seeking　the　gaskets。　A　thump　on　the　yard　told　him　that　Oldroyd；　who　had　been　detailed　to　e　after　him；　had　followed　him　out　along　the　yard…he　had　six　feet　less　to　go。　There　could　be　no　doubt　that　the　other　members　of　the　jolly　boat's　crew　were　on　the　yard；　and　that　Clough　had　led　the　way　to　the　starboard　yardarm。　It　was　obvious　from　the　rapidity　with　which　the　sail　came　loose。　Here　was　the　brace　beside　him。　Without　any　thought　of　danger　now；　for　he　was　delirious　with　excitement　and　triumph；　he　grasped　it　with　both　hands　and　jerked　himself　off　the　yard。　His　waving　legs　found　the　rope　and　twined　about　it；　and　he　let　himself　slide　down　it。
　Fool　that　he　was！　Would　he　never　learn　sense　and　prudence？　Would　he　never　remember　that　vigilance　and　precaution　must　never　be　relaxed？　He　had　allowed　himself　to　slide　so　fast　that　the　rope　seared　his　hands；　and　when　he　tried　to　tighten　his　grip　so　as　to　slow　down　his　progress　it　caused　him　such　agony　that　he　had　to　relax　it　again　and　slide　on　down　with　the　rope　stripping　the　skin　from　his　hands　as　though　peeling　off　a　glove。　His　feet　reached　the　deck　and　he　momentarily　forgot　the　pain　as　he　looked　round　him。
　There　was　the　faintest　grey　light　beginning　to　show　now；　and　there　were　no　sounds　of　battle。　It　had　been　a　well…worked　surprise…a　hundred　men　flung　suddenly　on　the　deck　of　the　corvette　had　swept　away　the　anchor　watch　and　mastered　the　vessel　in　a　single　rush　before　the　watch　below　could　e　up　to　offer　any　resistance。　Chadd's　stentorian　voice　came　pealing　from　the　forecastle。
　'Cable's　cut；　sir！'
　Then　Eccles　bellowed　from　aft。
　'Mr　Hornblower！'
　'Sir！'　yelled　Hornblower。
　'Man　the　halliards！'
　A　rush　of　men　came　to　help…not　only　his　own　boat's　crew　but　every　man　of　initiative　and　spirit。　Halliards；　sheets　and　braces；　the　sail　was　trimmed　round　and　was　drawing　full　in　the　light　southerly　air；　and　the　Papillon　swung　round　to　go　down　with　the　first　of　the　ebb。　Dawn　was　ing　up　fast；　with　a　trifle　of　mist　on　the　surface　of　the　water。
　Over　the　starboard　quarter　came　a　sullen　bellowing　roar；　and　then　the　misty　air　was　torn　by　a　series　of　infernal　screams；　supernaturally　loud。　The　first　cannon　balls　Hornblower　ever　heard　were　passing　him　by。
　'Mr　Chadd！　Set　the　headsails！　Loose　the　foretops'l。　Get　aloft；　some　of　you；　and　set　the　mizzen　tops'l。'
　From　the　port　bow　came　another　salvo…Blaye　was　firing　at　them　from　one　side；　St　Dye　from　the　other；　now　they　could　guess　what　had　happened　on　board　the　Papillon。　But　the　corvette　was　moving　fast　with　wind　and　tide；　and　it　would　be　no　easy　matter　to　cripple　her　in　the　half　light。　It　had　been　a　very　near…run　thing；　a　few　seconds'　delay　could　have　been　fatal。　Only　one　shot　from　the　next　salvo　passed　within　hearing；　and　its　passage　was　marked　by　a　loud　snap　overhead。
　'Mr　Mallory；　get　that　forestay　spliced！'
　'Aye　aye；　sir！'
　It　was　light　enough　to　look　round　the　deck　now；　he　could　see　Eccles　at　the　break　of　the　poop；　directing　the　handling　of　the　corvette；　and　Soames　beside　the　wheel　conning　her　down　the　channel。　Two　groups　of　red…coated　marines；　with　bayonets　taxed；　stood　guard　over　the　hatchways。　There　were　four　or　five　men　lying　on　the　deck　in　curiously　abandoned　attitudes。　Dead　men；　Hornblower　could　look　at　them　with　the　callousness　of　youth。　But　there　was　a　wounded　man；　too；　crouched　groaning　over　his　shattered　thigh…Hornblower　could　not　look　at　him　as　disinterestedly；　and　he　was　glad；　maybe　only　for　his　own　sake；　when　at　that　moment　a　seaman　asked　for　and　received　permission　from　Mallory　to　leave　his　duties　and　attend　to　him。
　'Stand　by　to　go　about！'　shouted　Eccles　from　the　poop；　the　corvette　had　reached　the　tip　of　the　middle　ground　shoal　and　was　about　to　make　the　turn　that　would　carry　her　into　the　open　sea。
　The　men　came　running　to　the　braces；　and　Hornblower　tailed　on　along　with　them。　But　the　first　contact　with　the　harsh　rope　gave　him　such　pain　that　he　almost　cried　out。　His　hands　were　like　raw　meat；　and　fresh…killed　at　that；　for　blood　as　running　from　them。　Now　that　his　attention　was　called　to　them　they　smarted　unbearably。
　The　headsail　sheets　came　over；　and　the　corvette　went　handily　about。
　'There's　the　old　Indy！'　shouted　somebody；
　The　Indefatigable　was　plainly　visible　now；　lying…to　just　out　of　shot　from　the　shore　batteries；　ready　to　rendezvous　with　her　prize。　Somebody　cheered；　and　the　cheering　was　taken　up　by　everyone；　even　while　the　last　shots　from　St　Dye；　fired　at　extreme　range；　pitched　sullenly　into　the　water　alongside。　Hornblower　had　gingerly　extracted　his　handkerchief　from　his　pocket　and　was　trying　to　wrap　it　round　his　hand。
　'Can　I　help　you　with　that；　sir？'　asked　Jackson。
　Jackson　shook　his　head　as　he　looked　at　the　raw　surface。
　'You　was　careless；　sir。　You　ought　to　'a　gone　down　'and　over　'and；'　he　said；　when　Hornblower　explained　to　him　how　the　injury　had　been　caused。　'Very　careless；　you　was；　beggin'　your　pardon　for　saying　so；　sir。　But　you　young　gennelmen　often　is。　You　don't　'ave　no　thought　for　your　necks；　nor　your　'ides；　sir。'
　Hornblower　looked　up　at　the　maintopsail　yard　high　above　his　head；　and　remembered　how　he　had　walked　along　that　slender　stick　of　timber　out　to　the　yardarm　in　the　dark。　At　the　recollection　of　it；　even　here　with　the　solid　deck　under　his　feet；　he　shuddered　a　little。
　'Sorry；　sir。　Didn't　mean　to　'urt　you；'　said　Jackson；　tying　the　knot。　'There；　that's　done；　as　good　as　I　can　do　it；　sir。'
　'Thank　you；　Jackson；'　said　Hornblower。
　'We　got　to　report　the　jolly　boat　as　lost；　sir；'　went　on　Jackson。
　'Lost？'
　'She　ain't　towing　alongside；　sir。　You　see；　we　didn't　leave　no　boatkeeper　in　'er。　Wells；　'e　was　to　be　boatkeeper；　you　remember；　sir。　But　I　sent　'im　up　the　rigging　a'head　o'　me；　seeing　that　'Ales　couldn't　go。　We　wasn't　too　many　for　the　job。　So　the　jolly　boat　must　'a　e　adrift；　sir；　when　the　ship　went　about。'
　'What　about　Hales；　then？'　asked　Hornblower。
　''E　was　still　in　the　boat；　sir。'
　Hornblower　looked　back　up　the　estuary　of　the　Gironde。　Somewhere　up　there　the　jolly　boat　was　drifting　about；　and　lying　in　it　was　Hales；　probably　dead；　possibly　alive。　In　either　case　the　French　would　find　him；　surely　enough；　but　a　cold　wave　of　regret　extinguished　the　warm　feeling　of　triumph　in　Hornblower's　bosom　when　he　thought　about　Hales　back　there。　If　it　had　not　been　for　Hales　he　would　never　have　nerved　himself　（so　at　least　he　thought）　to　run　out　to　the　maintopsail　yardarm；　he　would　at　this　moment　be　ruined　and　branded　as　a　coward　instead　of　basking　in　the　satisfaction　of　having　capably　done　his　duty。
　Jackson　saw　the　bleak　look　in　his　face。
　'Don't　you　take　on　so；　sir；'　he　said。　'They　won't　'old　the　loss　of　the　jolly　boat　agin　you；　not　the　captain　and　Mr　Eccles；　they　won't。'
　'I　wasn't　thinking　about　the　jolly　boat；'　said　Hornblower。　'I　was　thinking　about　Hales。'
　'Oh；　'im？'　said　Jackson。　'Don't　you　fret　about　'im；　sir。　'E　wouldn't　never　'ave　made　no　seaman；　not　no　'ow。'
　
　
　
　CHAPTER　FIVE　…　THE　MAN　WHO　SAW　GOD
　Winter　had　e　to　the　Bay　of　Biscay。　With　the　passing　of　the　Equinox　the　gales　began　to　increase　in　violence；　adding　infinitely　to　the　labours　and　dangers　of　the　British　Navy　watching　over　the　coast　of　France；　easterly　gales；　bitter　cold；　which　the　storm…tossed　ships　had　to　endure　as　best　they　could；　when　the　spray　froze　on　the　rigging　and　the　labouring　hulls　leaked　like　baskets；　westerly　gales；　when　the　ships　had　to　claw　their　way　to　safety　from　a　lee　shore　and　make　a　risky　promise　between　gaining　sufficient　sea…room　and　maintaining　a　position　from　which　they　could　pounce　on　any　French　vessel　venturing　out　of　harbour。　The　storm…tossed　ships；　we　speak　about。　But　those　ships　were　full　of　storm…tossed　men；　who　week　by　week　and　month　by　month　had　to　endure　the　continual　cold　and　the　continual　wet；　the　salt　provisions；　the　endless　toil；　the　boredom　and　misery　of　life　in　the　blockading　fleet。　Even　in　the　frigates；　the　eyes　and　claws　of　the　blockaders；　boredom　had　to　be　endured；　the　boredom　of　long　periods　with　the　hatches　battened　down；　with　the　deck　seams　above　dripping　water　on　the　men　below；　long　nights　and　short　days；　broken　sleep　and　yet　not　enough　to　do。
　Even　in　the　Indefatigable　there　was　a　feeling　of　restlessness　in　the　air；　and　even　a　mere　midshipman　like　Hornblower　could　be　aware　of　it　as　he　was　looking　over　the　men　of　his　division　before　the　captain's　regular　weekly　inspection。
　'What's　the　matter　with　your　face；　Styles？'　he　asked。
　'Boils；　sir。　Awful　bad。'
　On　Styles'　cheeks　and　lips　there　were　half　a　dozen　dabs　of　sticking　plaster。
　'Have　you　done　anything　about　them？'
　'Surgeon's　mate；　sir；　'e　give　me　plaister　for　'em；　an'　'e　says　they'll　soon　e　right；　sir。'
　'Very　well。'
　Now　was　there；　or　was　there　not；　something　strained　about　the　expressions　on　the　faces　of　the　men　on　either　side　of　Styles？　Did　they　look　like　men　smiling　secretly　to　themselves？　Laughing　up　their　sleeves？　Hornblower　did　not　want　to　be　an　object　of　derision；　it　was　bad　for　discipline…and　it　was　worse　for　discipline　if　the　men　shared　some　secret　unknown　to　their　officers。　He　glanced　sharply　along　the　line　again。　Styles　was　standing　like　a　block　of　wood；　with　no　expression　at　all　on　his　swarthy　face；　the　black　ringlets　over　his　ears　were　properly　bed；　and　no　fault　could　be　found　with　him。　But　Hornblower　sensed　that　the　recent　conversation　was　a　source　of　amusement　to　the　rest　of　his　division；　and　he　did　not　like　it。
　After　divisions　he　tackled　Mr　Low　the　surgeon；　in　the　gunroom。
　'Boils？'　said　Low。　'Of　course　the　men　have　boils。　Salt　pork　and　split　peas　for　nine　weeks　on　end…what　d'you　expect　but　boils？　Boils…gurry　sores…blains…all　the　plagues　of　Egypt。'
　'On　their　faces？'
　'That's　one　locality　for　boils。　You'll　find　out　others　from　your　own　personal　experience。'
　'Does　your　mate　attend　to　them？'　persisted　Hornblower。
　'Of　course。'
　'What's　he　like？'
　'Muggridge？'
　'Is　that　his　name？'
　'He's　a　good　surgeon's　mate。　Get　him　to　pound　a　black　draught　for　you　and　you'll　see。　In　fact；　I'd　prescribe　one　for　you…you　seem　in　a　mighty　bad　temper；　young　man。'
　Mr　Low　finished　his　glass　of　rum　and　pounded　on　the　table　for　the　steward。　Hornblower　realized　that　he　was　lucky　to　have　found　Low　sober　enough