csf.thecommodore-第48部分

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　He　awoke　to　Clausewitz's　arm　on　his　shoulder；　and　pieced　himself　back　into　the　Hornblower　who　was　aiding　in　the　defence　of　Riga　like　a　man　fitting　together　a　jigsaw　puzzle。
　〃An　hour　before　dawn；〃　said　Clausewitz；　still　only　a　vague　shadow　in　the　brooding　darkness。
　Hornblower　sat　up：　he　was　stiff；　and　had　grown　cold　under　the　inadequate　cover　of　his　cloak。　The　landing　force；　if　all　had　gone　well；　must　be　creeping　up　the　bay　now。　It　was　too　dark　to　see　anything　as　he　peered　over　the　parapet　of　the　gallery。　Another　shadow　loomed　up　at　his　elbow　and　thrust　something　scalding　hot　into　his　hand　…　a　glass　of　tea。　He　sipped　it　gratefully；　feeling　its　warmth　penetrate　into　his　inner　recesses。　The　faint　report　of　a　single　musket…shot　reached　his　ears；　and　Clausewitz　began　a　remark　to　him　which　was　cut　short　by　a　violent　outburst　of　firing　down　in　no…man's…land　between　the　trench　systems。　The　darkness　was　spangled　with　points　of　flame。
　〃Possibly　patrols　with　a　fit　of　nerves；〃　said　Clausewitz；　but　the　firing　showed　no　signs　of　dying　down。　Instead；　it　grew　in　violence。　There　was　a　great　spearhead　of　flame　down　below；　pointing　towards　an　irregular　mass　of　flashes；　where　apparently　a　column　was　meeting　a　line。　The　flashes　flared　up　and　died　away　with　the　ragged　volleys；　soon　cannons　were　contributing　their　orange　flames；　and　immediately　afterwards　there　was　more　fire　as　blazing…bustibles　…　carcases　…　were　flung　by　attackers　and　defenders　from　the　parapets　to　illuminate　their　enemies。　From　the　bay　arose　a　curving　streak　of　yellow　fire；　soaring　upwards　towards　the　sky；　and　then　bursting　into　scarlet　stars。
　〃Thank　God　for　that！〃　said　Hornblower；　but　he　kept　the　words　to　himself。
　The　landing　party　had　reached　their　station　a　little　ahead　of　their　time；　and　somebody；　English　or　Russian；　had　sensibly　decided　to　launch　the　flank　attack　immediately　upon　seeing　the　firing　ashore。　Clausewitz　turned　and　rapped　out　an　order　which　sent　an　aide…de…camp　hurrying　down　the　stairs。　At　almost　the　same　moment　a　messenger　came　running　up；　gabbling　Russian　so　rapidly　that　Clausewitz；　with　his　limited　mand　of　the　language；　had　to　make　him　repeat　the　words　more　slowly。　When　the　message　was　delivered　he　turned　to　Hornblower。
　〃The　enemy　is　in　strong　force；　apparently　intending　to　make　a　surprise　attack。　He　might　save　two　days　if　it　were　successful。〃
　A　fresh　tumult　broke　out　down　below；　the　landing　party　had　encountered　their　first　opposition；　and　the　invisible　landscape　towards　the　shore　was　spangled　with　a　new　pattern　of　flashes。　There　was　a　desperate　battle　going　on；　where　attackers　and　counter…attackers　and　the　flank　attack　drove　together；　there　was　a　faint　light　beginning　to　show　now；　enough　to　reveal　Clausewitz；　unshaven；　and　with　his　uniform　covered　with　bits　of　straw　in　direct　contrast　with　his　usual　spruce　appearance。　But　still　nothing　could　be　seen　of　the　fighting；　save　for　vague　smoke…clouds　drifting　in　the　semi…darkness。　Hornblower　was　reminded　of　Campbell's　lines　in　Hohenlinden　about　the　level　sun　at　morn　being　unable　to　pierce　the　dun　war…clouds。　The　clatter　of　musketry　and　the　crash　of　artillery　told　of　the　bitter　struggle；　and　once　Hornblower　heard　a　deep　shout　from　many　throats　answered　by　a　wild　yell。　That　was　when　some　attack　met　a　counter…attack；　presumably。　Steadily　the　landscape　grew　brighter；　and　the　messengers　began　to　pour　in。
　〃Shevstoff　has　stormed　the　battery　guarding　the　shore；〃　said　Clausewitz；　exultantly。
　Shevstoff　was　the　general　manding　the　landing　party。　If　he　had　stormed　the　battery　the　boats'　crews　would　be　able　to　effect　an　unmolested　retreat；　while　the　arrival　of　a　messenger　from　him　here　in　Daugavgriva　meant　that　he　was　in　full　touch　with　the　defenders；　and　presumably　his　force　had　executed　its　orders　and　fallen　on　the　flank　of　the　French　position。　The　firing　seemed　to　be　dying　away；　even　though　the　smoke　still　blended　with　the　low　ground…mist　of　autumn　and　kept　everything　concealed。
　〃Kladoff　is　in　the　approaches；〃　went　on　Clausewitz。　〃His　workmen　are　breaking　down　the　parapets。〃
　The　firing　increased　again；　although　now　there　was　so　much　light　that　no　flashes　were　visible。　A　frightful　death…struggle　was　apparently　going　on；　so　desperate　that　the　arrival　of　the　Governor　in　the　gallery　attracted　little　attention　from　the　group　straining　to　see　through　the　fog　and　smoke。
　Essen　gathered　the　details　with　a　few　quick　questions　to　Clausewitz；　and　then　he　turned　to　Hornblower。
　〃I　would　have　been　here　an　hour　ago；〃　he　said；　〃but　I　was　detained　by　the　arrival　of　despatches。〃
　Essen's　massive　countenance　was　gloomy；　he　took　Hornblower's　arm　and　drew　him　out　of　earshot　of　the　junior　staff　officers。
　〃Bad　news？〃　asked　Hornblower。
　〃Yes。　The　worst。　We　have　been　beaten　in　a　great　battle　outside　Moscow；　and　Bonaparte　is　in　the　city。〃
　That　was　the　worst　of　news　indeed。　Hornblower　could　foresee　a　future　time　when　he　supposed　that　battle　would　rank　along　with　Marengo　and　Austerlitz　and　Jena；　as　a　smashing　victory　which　laid　a　nation　low；　and　the　entry　into　Moscow　would　rank　with　the　occupation　of　Vienna　and　Berlin。　A　week　or　two　more　and　Russia　would　sue　for　peace　…　if　she　had　not　begun　to　do　so　already　…　and　England　would　be　left　alone；　with　the　whole　world　in　arms　against　her。　Was　there　anything　in　the　world　that　could　stand　against　Bonaparte's　craft　and　power？　Even　the　British　Navy？　Hornblower　forced　himself　to　take　the　blow　impassively；　forced　his　face　to　bear　no　hint　of　his　dismay。
　〃We　shall　fight　it　out　here　all　the　same；〃　he　said。
　〃Yes；〃　said　Essen；　〃my　men　will　fight　to　the　last。　So　will　my　officers。〃
　There　was　almost　a　grin　on　his　face　as　he　jerked　his　head　towards　Clausewitz；　that　was　a　man　who　had　his　neck　in　a　noose　if　ever　a　man　had；　fighting　against　his　own　country。　Hornblower　remembered　Wellesley's　hint　to　him　that　his　squadron　might　well　serve　as　a　refuge　for　the　Russian　Court。　His　ships　would　be　jammed　with　refugees　fleeing　from　this；　the　last　continental　country　in　arms　against　Bonaparte。
　The　mist　and　smoke　were　thinning；　and　patches　of　the　field　of　battle　were　visible　now；　and　Hornblower　and　Essen　turned　their　attention　to　the　work　in　hand　as　if　with　relief　from　contemplating　the　future。
　〃Ha！〃　said　Essen；　pointing。
　Portions　of　the　approaches　were　in　plain　view；　and　here　and　there　were　jagged　gaps　in　the　parapets。
　〃Kladoff　has　carried　out　his　orders；　sir；〃　said　Clausewitz。
　Until　those　gaps　were　repaired；　one　by　one；　starting　with　the　gap　nearest　the　first　parallel；　no　one　would　be　able　to　reach　the　head　of　the　sap；　and　certainly　no　strong　force　could　use　the　approaches。　Another　two　days　had　been　won；　decided　Hornblower；　gauging　the　amount　of　destruction　with　his　eye　…　experience　had　brought　him　facility　already　in　appreciating　siege　operations。　There　was　still　heavy　firing　going　on　as　the　rear…guard　covered　the　retreat　of　the　sallying　forces　to　the　ramparts。　Essen　balanced　his　huge　telescope　on　the　shoulder　of　his　aide…de…camp　and　pointed　it　down　at　the　scene。　Hornblower　was　looking　through　his　own　glass；　the　big　barges　which　had　brought　the　landing　party　were　lying　deserted　on　the　beach；　and　the　boats　which　were　conveying　back　his　crews　which　had　manned　them　were　already　safely　out　of　range。　Essen's　hand　on　his　shoulder　swung　him　round。
　〃See　there；　modore！〃　said　Essen。
　Hornblower's　glass　revealed　to　him　in　a　flash　the　thing　to　which　Essen　had　wanted　to　call　his　attention。　Isolated　infantrymen　from　the　besiegers　were　ranging　over　no…man's…land　on　their　way　back　to　their　own　trenches　and　…　Hornblower　saw　it　done　…　they　bayoneted　the　Russian　wounded　who　lay　heaped　in　their　path。　Perhaps　it　was　only　to　be　expected；　in　this　long　and　bloody　siege；　that　bitterness　and　ferocity　should　be　engendered　on　this　scale；　especially　among　Bonaparte's　hordes　who　had　wandered　over　Europe　for　years　now；　since　boyhood；　living　on　what　they　could　gather　from　the　countryside　with　the　musket　and　bayonet　as　the　only　court　of　appeal。　Essen　was　white　with　anger；　and　Hornblower　tried　to　share　his　rage；　but　he　found　it　difficult。　That　kind　of　atrocity　was　what　he　had　e　to　expect。　He　was　perfectly　prepared　to　go　on　killing　Bonaparte's　soldiers　and　sailors；　but　he　would　not　flatter　himself　that　he　was　executing　justice　by　killing　one　man　because　some　other　man　had　murdered　his　wounded　allies。
　Down　in　the　shattered　remains　of　the　village；　as　he　walked　along　the　trenches；　those　of　the　wounded　who　had　been　fortunate　enough　to　drag　themselves　back　were　receiving　treatment。　Shuddering；　Hornblower　told　himself　that　perhaps　those　who　had　been　bayoneted　in　no…man's…land　were　the　lucky　ones。　He　pushed　past　ranks　of　smoke…blackened　and　ragged　Russian　soldiers；　talking　with　the　noisy　abandon　of　men　who　have　just　emerged　from　a　hard…won　victory。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO
　
　Among　the　mass　of　long…delayed　mail　from　England　were　great　packets　of　printed　pamphlets；　in　French　and　in　German；　a　few　even　in　Dutch　and　in　Danish。　They　were　appeals　to　Bonaparte's　forces　to　desert　his　standard　…　not　suggestions　for　mass　desertions；　but　intended　for　the　individual　soldier；　telling　him　that　he　could　be　sure　of　a　wele　if　he　were　to　e　over。　They　denied　the　statements　that　Bonaparte　was　continually　making　in　his　proclamations；　to　the　effect　that　England　confined　her　prisoners　in　floating　hells　of　hulks；　and　that　deserters　were　forced　by　ill…treatment　to　take　service　in　England's　mercenary　regiments。　They　offered　a　life　of　ease　and　security；　with　the　honourable　alternative；　only　if　requested；　of　enlistment　in　the　British　forces；　to　those　who　wished　to　strike　a　blow　against　the　tyrant。　The　French　pamphlet　was　certainly　well　written；　and　presumably　the　others　were　too；　maybe　Canning；　or　that　fellow　…　what　was　his　name；　now？　…　Hookham　Frere；　had　had　a　hand　in　posing　them。
　The　letter　that　acpanied　the　pamphlets；　charging　him　to　do　his　utmost　to　get　them　into　the　hands　of　Bonaparte's　forces；　had　an　interesting　enclosure　…　a　copy　of　a　letter　from　Bonaparte　to　Marmont；　intercepted　presumably　somewhere　in　Spain；　in　which　the　Emperor　raged　against　this　new　evidence　of　British　falseness　and　perfidy。　He　had　seen　some　of　the　first　pamphlets；　apparently；　and　they　had　touched　him　on　a　sore　spot。　Judging　by　the　wording　of　his　letter