csf.thecommodore-第50部分

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　If　the　horses　were　dead　it　would　be　impossible　to　drag　supplies　in　to　the　main　body　of　the　army；　it　would　have　to　scatter　or　starve；　and　as　long　as　the　Russians　had　any　sort　of　army　in　existence　it　would　be　impossible　for　the　main　body　to　scatter。　As　long　as　Alexander's　nerve　held；　as　long　as　he　maintained　the　struggle；　there　was　still　hope。　It　began　to　seem　certain　that　Bonaparte's　army　in　Moscow　had　spent　its　strength；　and　the　only　way　in　which　the　French　could　bring　fresh　pressure　upon　Alexander　would　be　by　advancing　upon　St　Petersburg　with　the　army　here　before　Riga。　That　made　it　more　imperative　still　to　hold　on　here。　Hornblower　felt　considerable　doubt　as　to　Alexander's　constancy　if　he　were　to　lose　both　his　capitals。
　The　wretched　Spanish　infantry　had　been　standing　presenting　arms　during　all　this　long　conversation；　and　Hornblower　felt　unfortable　about　them。　He　let　his　attention　wander　to　them　obviously；　recalling　the　Conde　to　a　sense　of　his　duty。　The　Conde　gave　an　order　to　his　staff；　and　the　colonels　repeated　it；　the　regiments　ordered　arms　awkwardly　and　then　stood　easy；　the　latter　to　the　manner　born。
　〃His　Excellency　tells　me；〃　said　the　Conde；　〃that　you　have　recently　served　in　Spain；　sir。　What　is　the　news　of　my　country？〃
　It　was　not　easy　to　give　a　thumbnail　sketch　of　the　plicated　history　of　the　Peninsula　for　the　last　four　years；　to　a　Spaniard　who　had　been　cut　off　from　all　news　during　that　time。　Hornblower　did　his　best；　glossing　over　the　innumerable　Spanish　defeats；　laying　stress　on　the　devotion　and　efficiency　of　the　guerrilleros；　and　ending　on　a　hopeful　note　as　he　told　of　Wellington's　recent　capture　of　Madrid。　The　Spanish　staff　pressed　more　and　more　closely　round　him　as　he　spoke。　For　four　long　years；　ever　since　the　Spanish　people　had　declared　their　will；　ceasing　to　be　subservient　allies　and　being　the　most　bitter　enemies　of　the　Empire；　Bonaparte　had　seen　to　it　that　these　Spanish　troops　of　his；　three　thousand　miles　from　home；　had　received　not　a　single　word　which　might　tell　them　of　the　real　situation　in　Spain。　They　had　had　only　the　lying　Imperial　bulletins　on　which　to　base　their　vague　theories。　It　was　a　strange　experience　to　talk　to　these　exiles；　Hornblower　felt　a　curious　sensation；　as　if　there　were　an　actual　movement　inside　his　brain；　as　he　remembered　the　conditions　in　which　he　himself　had　learned　of　the　Spanish　change　of　front。　That　had　been　on　the　deck　of　the　Lydia；　in　the　uncharted　tropical　Pacific。　For　a　few　seconds　his　brain　was　a　battleground　of　memories。　The　blue　and　gold　of　the　Pacific；　the　heat　and　the　storms　and　the　fighting　there；　el　Supremo　and　the　Governor　of　Panama　…　he　had　to　tear　himself　away　from　them　to　bring　himself　back　to　this　parade　ground　on　the　shores　of　the　Baltic。
　An　orderly　officer　was　galloping　madly　towards　them；　the　dust　flying　from　beneath　the　ringing　hoofs　of　his　charger。　He　reined　up　before　Essen　with　a　perfunctory　salute；　the　words　of　his　message　pouring　from　his　lips　before　his　hand　had　left　his　forehead。　A　word　from　the　Governor　sent　him　flying　back　whence　he　came；　and　Essen　turned　to　Hornblower。
　〃The　enemy　is　massing　in　his　trenches；〃　he　said。　〃They　are　about　to　assault　Daugavgriva。〃
　Essen　began　blaring　orders　to　his　staff；　horses　wheeled　and　pranced　as　spurs　were　struck　into　their　sides　and　the　cruel　bits　dragged　their　heads　round。　In　a　moment　half　a　dozen　officers　were　galloping　in　different　directions　with　the　messages　flung　at　them。
　〃I'm　going　there；〃　said　Essen。
　〃I　shall　e　too；〃　said　Hornblower。
　Hornblower　found　it　hard　to　stay　in　the　saddle　as　his　excited　horse　swung　round　beside　the　Governor's；　he　had　to　resettle　himself；　his　hand　on　the　pommel；　and　regain　his　lost　stirrup　as　they　clattered　along。　Essen　turned　his　head　with　another　order　shouted　to　one　of　the　few　remaining　orderlies　acpanying　them；　and　then　spurred　his　horse　yet　again；　as　the　brute　sprang　forward　with　increased　speed　the　low　muttering　of　the　bombardment　increased　in　intensity。　They　clattered　through　the　streets　of　Riga；　and　the　timber　road…bed　of　the　boat　bridge　roared　under　their　horses'　hoofs。　The　sweat　was　running　from　Hornblower's　face　in　the　clear　autumn　sunshine；　his　sword　leaped　against　his　thigh；　and　time　and　again　his　cocked　hat　rode　precariously　up　his　forehead　and　was　only　saved　by　a　hurried　grab　at　the　last　moment。　Hornblower　was　conscious　of　the　swirling　water　of　the　Dwina　as　they　crossed　the　bridge；　and　then　on　his　right　land　as　they　galloped　along　the　quays。　The　roar　of　the　bombardment　grew　louder　and　louder；　and　then　suddenly　died　away。
　〃It　is　the　moment　of　the　assault！〃　bellowed　Essen；　bending　his　clumsy　body　forward　in　an　effort　to　get　more　speed　out　of　his　labouring　horse。
　Now　they　were　in　the　village　itself；　among　the　ruins　of　the　cottages；　and　here　they　met　broken　troops；　stumbling　back　pell…mell；　blue　uniforms　grey　with　dust；　with　cursing　officers　trying　to　rally　them；　and　beating　the　stupefied　men　with　the　flats　of　their　swords。　Essen's　voice　blared　out　again；　like　a　tuneless　trumpet；　he　was　waving　his　sword　over　his　head　and　spurring　forward　into　the　press。　At　the　sight　of　him　the　men　began　to　rally；　turning　back　to　face　the　enemy；　and　instinctively　closing　together　into　line。
　Down　through　the　ruins　came　a　disordered　column　of　the　enemy　…　it　must　have　e　up　over　the　breach　like　a　whirlwind。　By　now　it　was　more　of　a　mob　than　a　column；　officers　capering　at　the　head　of　their　men；　waving　their　hats　and　swords。　A　standard　waved　over　them。　The　appearance　of　a　formed　line　caused　a　momentary　hesitation；　and　ragged　firing　broke　out　on　both　sides；　Hornblower　saw　one　of　the　capering　officers　fall　dead　as　he　called　to　his　men　to　e　on。　He　looked　over　at　Essen；　but　he　was　still　towering　high　in　the　smoke。　Hornblower　wheeled　his　horse　towards　the　flank；　his　mind　was　working　with　the　ecstatic　speed　of　excitement；　bullets　were　singing　by　him；　and　he　knew　that　this　was　the　crisis　of　the　assault。　Halt　an　attacking　column　for　one　moment；　and　then　any　trifle　might　turn　the　scale；　and　it　would　go　back　as　fast　as　it　had　advanced。　He　reached　the　door　of　the　church　just　as　a　flood　of　men　came　pouring　out　of　it　…　the　garrison　of　the　building　hastening　to　make　good　their　retreat　before　they　should　be　cut　off　and　isolated。　Hornblower　tore　his　sword　from　its　sheath；　miraculously　retaining　his　seat　in　the　saddle。
　〃e　on！〃　he　yelled；　waving　the　weapon。
　They　did　not　understand　his　words；　as　they　blinked　at　this　vision　in　blue　and　gold　before　them；　but　anyone　could　understand　his　gestures。　At　the　back　of　the　group　Hornblower　caught　a　momentary　glimpse　of　Clausewitz　and　Diebitch；　who　should　have　taken　mand　here；　but　there　was　no　time　for　argument；　and　racing　through　Hornblower's　brain　went　the　conviction　at　the　same　time　that　although　they　might　be　scientific　soldiers　they　would　be　useless　in　a　physical　rough…and…tumble　like　this。
　〃e　on！〃　yelled　Hornblower　again；　pointing　with　his　sword　at　the　flank　of　the　assaulting　column。
　They　turned　to　follow　him　…　no　one　could　have　resisted　the　inspiration　of　his　example　and　gestures。　Column　and　line　were　still　exchanging　ragged　volleys；　the　column　still　moving　forward　little　by　little；　the　line　wavering　and　falling　back。
　〃Form　line！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　turning　in　his　saddle；　his　spread　arms　and　gesticulating　fists　telling　the　Russians　what　he　wanted　them　to　do。　〃Load　your　muskets！〃
　They　formed　their　line；　marching　up　after　him；　hands　busy　with　their　ramrods　…　a　couple　of　hundred　men　at　most；　jostling　each　other　as　they　stumbled　over　the　ruins　of　the　cottages。　Now　they　were　right　on　the　flank　of　the　column；　Hornblower　saw　faces　turn　towards　them。　He　was　even　near　enough　to　see　surprise　and　dismay　in　the　attitudes　of　the　men　who　suddenly　realized　that　a　new　force　was　about　to　assail　their　flank。
　〃Fire！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　and　some　sort　of　volley　crashed　out　from　the　ragged　line　he　led。
　He　saw　two　ramrods　sail　forward　in　soaring　arcs；　fired　out　of　their　muskets　by　excited　men　who　had　been　caught　in　the　act　of　loading　by　his　order；　and　who　had　incontinently　put　their　weapons　to　their　shoulders　and　pulled　their　triggers。　One　ramrod　buried　itself　like　an　arrow　in　the　body　of　a　French　soldier。　The　column　wavered　and　staggered　…　not　one　man　in　a　hundred　there　had　expected　this　attack　on　the　flank；　all　their　attention　had　been　taken　up　by　Essen's　line　in　front　of　them。
　〃Charge！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　waving　his　sword　and　urging　his　horse　forward。
　The　Russians　followed　him　with　a　cheer；　the　whole　column　of　the　enemy；　Hornblower　saw；　was　wavering　and　melting　away；　the　disordered　ranks　crumbling。　They　were　turning　their　backs；　and　the　memory　streaked　through　his　excited　mind　of　a　saying　he　had　heard　somewhere　to　the　effect　that　the　knapsacks　of　the　enemy　were　the　most　cheering　sight　a　soldier　could　behold。　Then　he　saw　one　of　the　enemy　swing　back　again　and　level　his　musket　at　him。　As　the　smoke　gushed　from　the　barrel　his　horse　gave　a　convulsive　leap　and　then　put　his　nose　to　the　ground　and　somersaulted；　for　a　moment　Hornblower　felt　himself　flying　through　the　air；　he　was　too　excited　and　exalted　to　feel　any　fear；　so　that　the　crash　with　which　he　hit　the　earth　came　as　a　startling　surprise　to　him。　But　even　though　the　breath　was　dashed　from　his　body　and　the　jar　shook　every　bone　in　it；　his　fantastic　mind　still　thought　clearly；　and　he　heard　and　felt　the　flank　attack　which　he　had　led　sweep　cheering　over　him。　Only　when　he　rose　to　his　feet　did　he　e　to　the　sudden　realization　that　he　was　bruised　and　weak；　so　that　it　was　hard　to　balance　on　his　legs　…　they　nearly　gave　way　under　him　as　he　hobbled　forward　to　pick　up　his　sword　which　lay　shining　on　the　dusty　earth　between　two　dead　men。
　He　felt　suddenly　alone；　but　the　feeling　had　hardly　time　to　take　hold　of　him　when　he　was　engulfed　in　a　wave　of　humanity；　Essen　and　his　staff　roaring　with　exaltation　and　delight。　He　stood　there；　bruised　and　torn；　his　sword　dangling　from　his　hand；　as　they　overwhelmed　him　with　inprehensible　congratulations。　One　of　the　officers　leaped　down　from　his　horse；　and　Hornblower　was　hauled　and　pushed　up　into　the　saddle；　and　they　cantered　forward；　the　horses　picking　their　way　delicately　over　the　dead　and　wounded；　over　the　tortured　ground；　towards　the　ramparts。　The　last　remnants　of　the　assaulting　forces　were