csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第17章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　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　to　give　him　even　this　much　information；　and　turned　away　to　go　aloft　so　as　to　brood　over　the　question　in　the　solitude　of　the　mizzen…top。　This　was　his　new　station　in　action；　when　the　men　were　not　at　their　quarters　a　man　might　find　a　little　blessed　solitude　there…something　hard　to　kind　in　the　crowded　Indefatigable。　Bundled　up　in　his　peajacket；　Hornblower　sat　in　the　mizzen…top；　over　his　head　the　mizzen…topmast　drew　erratic　circles　against　the　grey　sky；　beside　him　the　topmast　shrouds　sang　their　high…pitched　note　in　the　blustering　gale；　and　below　him　the　life　of　the　ship　went　on　as　she　rolled　and　pitched；　standing　to　the　northward　under　close　reefed　topsails。　At　eight　bells　she　would　wear　to　the　southward　again　on　her　incessant　patrol。　Until　that　time　Hornblower　was　free　to　meditate　on　the　boils　on　Styles'　face　and　the　covert　grins　on　the　faces　of　the　other　men　of　the　division。
　Two　hands　appeared　on　the　stout　wooden　barricade　surrounding　the　top；　and　as　Hornblower　looked　up　with　annoyance　at　having　his　meditations　interrupted　a　head　appeared　above　them。　It　was　Finch；　another　man　in　Hornblower's　division；　who　also　had　his　station　in　action　here　in　the　mizzen…top。　He　was　a　frail　little　man　with　wispy　hair　and　pale　blue　eyes　and　a　foolish　smile；　which　lit　up　his　face　when；　after　betraying　some　disappointment　at　finding　the　mizzen…top　already　occupied；　he　recognized　Hornblower。
　'Beg　pardon；　sir；'　he　said。　'I　didn't　know　as　how　you　was　up　here。'
　Finch　was　hanging　on　unfortably；　back　downwards；　in　the　act　of　transferring　himself　from　the　futtock　shrouds　to　the　top；　and　each　roll　threatened　to　shake　him　loose。
　'Oh　e　here　if　you　want　to；'　said　Hornblower；　cursing　himself　for　his　soft　heartedness。　A　taut　officer；　he　felt；　would　have　told　Finch　to　go　back　whence　he　came　and　not　bother　him。
　'Thank　'ee；　sir。　Thank　'ee；'　said　Finch；　bringing　his　leg　over　the　barricade　and　allowing　the　ship's　roll　to　drop　him　into　the　top。
　He　crouched　down　to　peer　under　the　foot　of　the　mizzen…topsail　forward　to　the　mainmast　head；　and　then　turned　back　to　smile　disarmingly　at　Hornblower　like　a　child　caught　in　moderate　mischief。　Hornblower　knew　that　Finch　was　a　little　weak　in　the　head…the　all　embracing　press　swept　up　idiots　and　landsmen　to　help　man　the　fleet…although　he　was　a　trained　seaman　who　could　hand；　reef　and　steer。　That　smile　betrayed　him。
　'It's　better　up　here　than　down　below；　sir；'　said　Finch；　apologetically。
　'You're　right；'　said　Hornblower；　with　a　disinterested　intonation　which　would　discourage　conversation。
　He　turned　away　to　ignore　Finch；　settled　his　bark　again　fortably；　and　allowed　the　steady　swing　of　the　top　to　mesmerize　him　into　dreamy　thought　that　might　deal　with　his　problem。　Yet　it　was　not　easy；　for　Finch　was　as　restless　almost　as　a　squirrel　in　a　cage；　peering　forward；　changing　his　position；　and　so　continually　breaking　in　on　Hornblower's　train　of　thought；　wasting　the　minutes　of　his　precious　half…hour　of　freedom。
　'What　the　devil's　the　matter　with　you；　Finch？'　he　rasped　at　last；　patience　quite　exhausted。
　'The　Devil；　sir？'　said　Finch。　'It　isn't　the　Devil。　He's　not　up　here；　begging　your　pardon；　sir。'
　That　weak　mysterious　grin　again；　like　a　mischievous　child。　A　great　depth　of　secrets　lay　in　those　strange　blue　eyes。　Finch　peered　under　the　topsail　again；　it　was　a　gesture　like　a　baby's　playing　peep…bo。
　'There！'　said　Finch。　'I　saw　him　that　time；　sir。　God's　e　back　to　the　maintop；　sir。'
　'God？'
　'Aye　indeed；　sir。　Sometimes　He's　in　the　maintop。　More　often　than　not；　sir。　I　saw　Him　that　time；　with　His　beard　all　a…blowing　in　the　wind。　'Tis　only　from　here　that　you　can　see　Him；　sir。'
　What　could　be　said　to　a　man　with　that　sort　of　delusion？　Hornblower　racked　his　brains　for　an　answer；　and　found　none。　Finch　seemed　to　have　forgotten　his　presence；　and　was　playing　peep…bo　again　under　the　foot　of　the　mizzen…topsail。
　'There　He　is！'　said　Finch　to　himself。　'There　He　is　again！　God's　in　the　maintop；　and　the　Devil's　in　the　cable　tier。'
　'Very　appropriate；'　said　Hornblower　cynically；　but　to　himself。　He　had　no　thought　of　laughing　at　Finch's　delusions。
　'The　Devil's　in　the　cable　tier　during　the　dog　watches；'　said　Finch　again　to　no　one　at　all。　'God　stays　in　the　maintop　for　ever。'
　'A　curious　timetable；'　was　Hornblower's　sotto　voce　ment。
　From　down　on　the　deck　below　came　the　first　strokes　of　eight　bells；　and　at　the　same　moment　the　pipes　of　the　bosun's　mates　began　to　twitter；　and　the　bellow　of　Waldron　the　bos'un　made　itself　heard。
　'Turn　out　the　watch　below！　All　hands　wear　ship！　All　hands！　All　hands！　You；　master…at…arms；　take　the　name　of　the　last　man　up　the　hatchway。　All　hands！'
　The　interval　of　peace；　short　as　it　was；　and　broken　by　Finch's　disturbing　presence；　was　at　an　end。　Hornblower　dived　over　the　barricade　and　gripped　the　futtock　shrouds；　not　for　him　was　the　easy　descent　through　the　lubber's　hole；　not　when　the　first　lieutenant　might　see　him　and　reprimand　him　for　unseamanlike　behaviour。　Finch　waited　for　him　to　quit　the　top；　but　even　with　this　length　start　Hornblower　was　easily　outfaced　in　the　descent　to　the　deck；　for　Finch；　like　the　skilled　seaman　he　was；　ran　down　the　shrouds　as　lightly　as　a　monkey。　Then　the　thought　of　Finch's　curious　illusions　was　temporarily　submerged　in　the　business　of　laying　the　ship　on　her　new　course。
　But　later　in　the　day　Hornblower's　mind　reverted　inevitably　to　the　odd　things　Finch　had　been　saying。　There　could　be　no　doubt　that　Finch　firmly　believed　he　saw　what　he　said　he　saw。　Both　his　words　and　his　expression　made　that　certain。　He　had　spoken　about　God's　beard…it　was　a　pity　that　he　had　not　spared　a　few　words　to　describe　the　Devil　in　the　cable　tier。　Horns；　cloven　hoof；　and　pitchfork？　Hornblower　wondered。　And　why　was　the　Devil　only　loose　in　the　cable　tier　during　the　dog　watches？　Strange　that　he　should　keep　to　a　timetable。　Hornblower　caught　his　breath　as　the　sudden　thought　came　to　him　that　perhaps　there　might　be　some　worldly　explanation。　The　Devil　might　well　be　loose　in　the　cable　tier　in　a　metaphorical　fashion　during　the　dog　watches。　Devil's　work　might　be　going　on　there。　Hornblower　had　to　decide　on　what　was　his　duty；　and　he　had　to　decide　further　on　what　was　expedient。　He　could　report　his　suspicions　to　Eccles；　the　first　lieutenant；　but　after　a　year　of　service　Hornblower　was　under　no　illusions　about　what　might　happen　to　a　junior　midshipman　who　worried　a　first　lieutenant　with　unfounded　Suspicions。　It　would　be　better　to　see　for　himself　first；　as　far　as　that　went。　But　he　did　not　know　what　he　would　find…if　he　should　find　anything　at　all…and　he　did　not　know　how　he　should　deal　with　it　if　he　found　anything。　Much　worse　than　that；　he　did　not　know　if　he　would　be　able　to　deal　with　it　in　officer…like　fashion。　He　could　make　a　fool　of　himself。　He　might　mishandle　whatever　situation　he　found；　and　bring　down　obloquy　and　derision　upon　his　head；　and　he　might　imperil　the　discipline　of　the　ship…weaken　the　slender　thread　of　allegiance　that　bound　officers　and　men　together；　the　discipline　which　kept　three　hundred　men　at　the　bidding　of　their　captain　suffering　untold　hardship　without　demur；　which　made　them　ready　to　face　death　at　the　word　of　mand。　When　eight　bells　told　the　end　of　the　afternoon　watch　and　the　beginning　of　the　first　dog　watch　it　was　with　trepidation　that　Hornblower　went　below　to　put　a　candle　in　a　lantern　and　make　his　way　forward　to　the　cable　tier。
　It　was　dark　down　here；　stuffy；　odorous；　and　as　the　ship　heaved　and　rolled　he　found　himself　stumbling　over　the　various　obstacles　that　impeded　his　progress。　Yet　forward　there　was　a　faint　light；　a　murmur　of　voices。　Hornblower　choked　down　his　fear　that　perhaps　mutiny　was　being　planned。　He　put　his　hand　over　the　horn　window　of　the　lantern；　so　as　to　obscure　its　light；　and　crept　forward。　Two　lanterns　swung　from　the　low　deck…beams；　and　crouching　under　them　were　a　score　or　more　of　men…more　than　that；　even…and　the　buzz　of　their　talk　came　loudly　but　indistinguishably　to　Hornblower's　ears。　Then　the　buzz　increased　to　a　roar；　and　someone　in　the　centre　of　the　circle　rose　suddenly　to　as　near　his　full　height　as　the　deck…beams　allowed。　He　was　shaking　himself　violently　from　side　to　side　for　no　apparent　reason；　his　face　was　away　from　Hornblower；　who　saw　with　a　gasp　that　his　hands　were　tied　behind　him。　The　men　roared　again；　like　spectators　at　a　prizefight；　and　the　man　with　his　hands　tied　swung　round　so　that　Hornblower　could　see　his　face。　It　was　Styles；　the　man　who　suffered　from　boils；　Hornblower　knew　him　at　once。　But　that　was　not　what　made　the　most　impression　on　Hornblower。　Clinging　to　the　man's　face；　weird　in　the　shifting　meagre　light；　was　a　grey　writhing　shape；　and　it　was　to　shake　this　off　that　Styles　was　flinging　himself　about　so　violently。　It　was　a　rat；　Hornblower's　stomach　turned　over　with　horror。
　With　a　wild　jerk　of　his　head　Styles　broke　the　grip　of　the　rat's　teeth　and　flung　the　creature　down；　and　then　instantly　pinged　down　on　his　knees；　with　his　hands　still　bound　behind　him；　to　pursue　it　with　his　own　teeth。
　'Time！'　roared　a　voice　at　that　moment…the　voice　of　Partridge；　bosun's　mate。　Hornblower　had　been　roused　by　it　often　enough　to　recognize　it　at　once。
　'Five　dead；'　said　another　voice。　'Pay　all　bets　of　evens　or　better。'
　Hornblower　plunged　forward。　Part　of　the　cable　had　been　coiled　down　to　make　a　rat　pit　ten　feet　across　in　which　knelt　Styles　with　dead　and　living　rats　about　his　knees。　Partridge　squatted　beside　the　ring　with　a　sandglass…used　for　timing　the　casting　of　the　log…in　front　of　him。
　'Six　dead；'　protected　someone。　'that　'un's　dead。'
　'No；　he　ain't。'
　''Is　back's　broken。　'E's　a　dead　'un。'
　''E　ain't　a　dead　'un；'　said　Partridge。
　The　man　who　had　protested　looked　up　at　that　moment　and　caught　sight　of　Hornblower；　and　his　words　died　away　unspoken；　at　his　silence　the　others　followed　his　glance　and　stiffened　into　rigidity；　and　Hornblower　stepped　forward。　He　was　still　wondering　what　he　should　do；　he　was　still　fighting　down　the　nausea　excited　by　the　horrible　things　he　had　seen。　Desperately　he　mastered　his　horror；　and；　thinking　fast；　took　his　stand　on　discipline。
　'Who's　in　charge　here？'　he　demanded。
　He　ran　his　eye　round　the　circle。　Petty　officers　and　secondclass　warrant　officers；　mainly；　bosun's　mates；　carpenter's　mates。　Muggridge；　the　surgeon's　mate…his　presence　explained　much。　But　his　own　position　was　not　easy。　A　midshipman　of　scant　service　depended　for　his　authority　on　board　largely　on　the　force　of　his　own　personality。　He　was　only　a　warrant　officer　himself；　when　all　was　said　and　done　a　midshipman　was　not　nearly　as　important　to　the　ship's　economy…and　was　far　more　easily　replaced…than；　say；　Washburn；　the　cooper's　mate　over　there；　who　knew　all　about　the　making　and　storage　of　the　ship's　water　barrels。
　'Who's　in　charge　here？'　he　demanded　again；　and　once　more　received　no　direct　reply。
　'We　ain't　on　watch；'　said　a　voice　in　the　background。
　Hornblower　by　now　had　mastered　his　horror；　his　indignation　still　flared　within　him；　but　he　could　appear　outwardly　calm。
　'No；　you're　not　on　watch；'　he　said　coldly。　'You're　gambling。'
　Muggridge　took　up　the　defence　at　that。
　'Gambling；　Mr　Hornblower？'　he　said。　'That's　a　very　serious　charge。　Just　a