csf.thecommodore-第52部分

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　〃That's　high　politics；〃　he　said　with　a　laugh　and　a　wave　of　his　hand。　〃But　one　day　in　the　future　we　might　look　back　on　this　conversation　as　prophetic。　One　cannot　tell；　can　one？　Some　time　when　we　meet　as　plenipotentiaries　I　will　be　able　to　remind　you　of　this　talk。　And　here　we　are　at　the　breach。　It　irks　me　to　have　to　say　goodbye；　at　the　same　moment　as　it　gives　me　pleasure　to　restore　you　to　your　friends。　My　heartiest　good　wishes；　sir；　for　you　for　the　future。〃
　Bulow　saluted　stiffly　again；　and　then；　as　Hornblower　held　out　his　hand；　shook　hands　with　him。　To　the　Prussian　it　was　a　remarkable　occurrence　for　a　modore　to　condescend　to　shake　hands　with　a　mere　subaltern。　He　picked　his　way　down　the　breach；　over　the　tortured　earth　where　the　stretcher…bearers　still　swarmed；　like　disturbed　ants；　gathering　in　the　wounded。　Hornblower　watched　him　until　he　reached　his　own　men；　and　then　turned　away。　He　was　dreadfully　tired；　quite　weak　with　fatigue；　in　fact；　and　he　was　angry　at　himself　for　his　weakness。　It　was　all　he　could　do　to　walk　back　with　dignity　to　the　jetty；　and　he　swayed　as　he　sat　in　the　sternsheets　of　his　barge。
　〃Are　you　all　right；　sir？〃　asked　Brown；　solicitously。
　〃Of　course　I　am；〃　snapped　Hornblower；　amazed　at　the　man's　impertinence。
　The　question　irritated　him；　and　the　irritation　made　him　mount　the　ship's　side　as　fast　as　he　could；　and　acknowledge　merely　coldly　the　salutes　he　received　on　the　quarter…deck；　down　in　his　cabin　his　irritation　persisted；　and　prevented　him　from　obeying　his　first　impulse　to　throw　himself　across　his　cot　and　relax。　He　paced　about　for　a　moment。　For　something　to　do　he　peered　into　the　mirror。　There　was　some　excuse　for　Brown　after　all；　and　his　foolish　questions。　The　face　he　looked　at　was　grimy　with　dust　caked　upon　sweat；　and　there　was　a　smear　of　blood　over　one　cheekbone　from　a　slight　scratch。　His　uniform　was　filthy；　with　one　epaulette　awry。　He　looked　like　someone　who　had　just　emerged　from　the　fury　of　a　battle　to　the　death。
　He　peered　more　closely。　That　face　was　lined　and　drawn；　the　eyes　red…rimmed；　with　a　sudden　increase　of　attention　he　looked　again；　turning　his　head。　On　his　temples　his　hair　was　quite　white。　Not　merely　did　he　look　like　someone　fresh　from　battle；　he　looked　like　someone　who　had　been　under　frightful　strain　for　a　long　time。　So　he　had；　indeed；　he　realized；　half　wondering　at　himself。　He　had　been　bearing　the　burden　of　this　horrible　siege　for　months　now。　It　had　never　occurred　to　him　that　his　face；　Hornblower's　face；　would　tell　tales　about　him　as　other　men's　faces　told　tales　about　them。　He　had　striven　all　his　life　to　restrain　his　features　from　revealing　his　feelings。　There　was　something　ironic　and　interesting　about　the　fact　that　he　could　not　prevent　his　hair　from　greying　nor　the　grim　lines　from　deepening　about　his　mouth。
　The　desk　under　his　feet　was　swaying；　as　if　the　ship　were　in　the　open　sea；　and　yet　even　his　veteran　sea…legs　had　difficulty　in　keeping　him　upright；　so　that　he　had　to　hold　on　to　the　bracket　before　him。　Only　with　extreme　care　could　he　let　go　his　hold　and　pick　his　way　to　his　cot；　and　fall　across　it；　face　downward。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…THREE
　
　The　new　problem　which　Hornblower　was　debating　as　he　walked　his　quarter…deck；　while　H。M。S。　Nonsuch　swung　at　anchor　in　Riga　Bay；　was　one　which　he　had　long　foreseen；　but　which　lost　none　of　its　urgency　for　all　that。　Here　was　winter　ing；　there　had　been　heavy　frosts　at　night　for　as　far　back　as　he　could　remember；　and　the　last　two　days　had　brought　flurries　of　snow；　which　had　temporarily　whitened　the　landscape　and　had　left　a　few　drifts　which　even　now　showed　as　white　streaks　on　the　northern　faces　of　the　dykes。　The　days　were　growing　short　and　the　nights　long；　and　the　brackish　water　of　Riga　Bay　was　covered　with　a　thin　scum　of　ice。　If　he　stayed　much　longer　his　ships　would　be　frozen　in。　Essen　had　assured　him　that　for　at　least　two　more　weeks　he　would　be　able　to　make　his　exit　along　a　channel　sawn　in　the　ice　by　labourers　whom　Essen　would　supply；　but　Hornblower　was　not　so　sure。　A　northerly　gale　…　and　one　might　arise　at　any　moment　…　could　keep　him　wind…bound　while　at　the　same　time　it　would　freeze　everything　up　and　jam　the　narrow　exit　to　the　Bay；　between　Oesel　and　the　mainland；　with　piled…up　drift　ice　that　neither　saws　nor　even　explosives　could　pierce。　A　squadron　frozen　in　was　a　squadron　immobilized　until　next　spring；　and　a　squadron　frozen　in　was　one　which　was　a　certain　prey　to　the　French　if　Riga　should　fall。　Twenty　years　ago　a　Dutch　squadron　at　Amsterdam　had　been　captured　by　French　hussars　charging　over　the　ice。　What　a　thundering　bulletin　of　triumph　Bonaparte　would　make　of　it　if　a　British　squadron；　under　the　notorious　modore　Hornblower；　should　fall　into　his　hands　in　the　same　way！　Hornblower　turned　in　his　stride　a　yard　before　he　had　reached　the　limit　of　his　walk。　Prudence　dictated　an　immediate　withdrawal。
　The　breechings　of　that　carronade　were　frayed。　When　Bush　noticed　it　someone　was　in　for　a　bad　quarter　of　an　hour。　And　yet　he　could　not　withdraw。　When　he　had　mentioned　the　possibility　Essen　had　shown　positive　dismay。　If　his　men　were　to　see　the　British　ships　go　away　they　would　be　quite　sure　the　place　was　doomed。　They　would　lose　heart　pletely。　The　British　naval　officer　who　had　led　the　final　charge　at　Daugavgriva　had　grown　into　a　legendary　figure　in　their　minds；　a　mascot；　a　symbol　of　good　luck。　If　he　were　to　leave　them　that　would　be　a　proof；　in　the　men's　minds；　that　he　had　lost　hope。　He　could　not　possibly　withdraw。　He　might　promise；　he　might　send　most　of　the　squadron　out　and　retain　only　a　sloop　and　a　gunboat；　he　might　send　everything　out　and　remain　himself；　but　to　separate　himself　from　his　mand　was　in　direct　violation　of　the　Articles　of　War。
　Here　was　a　fool　of　a　midshipman　in　his　way　dodging　about　in　front　of　him　as　though　bent　on　distracting　him　from　his　train　of　thought。　It　would　be　the　masthead　for　him；　God　knew　the　mission　had　lasted　long　enough　for　every　single　person　on　board　to　have　learned　that　the　modore　must　not　be　distracted　when　he　was　walking　the　deck。
　〃What　the　hell　…　？〃　he　bellowed　at　the　blenching　midshipman。
　〃B…b…boat　approaching；　sir；〃　stammered　the　youth。　〃M…Mr　Hurst　told　me　to　tell　you。　He　thinks　the　Governor's　on　board。〃
　〃Why　wasn't　I　told　before？〃　said　Hornblower。　〃Have　you　sent　for　Captain　Bush；　Mr　Hurst？　Call　the　guard！〃
　〃Aye　aye；　sir！〃　said　Hurst；　and　Hornblower　saw　Bush　appear　on　the　quarter…deck　as　the　words　left　Hurst's　lips；　and　the　marine　guard　was　already　forming　up　abaft　the　mizzen…mast。
　Of　course　Hurst　had　done　all　these　things　without　waiting　for　orders；　roused　abruptly　from　his　reverie　Hornblower　had　not　had　the　sense　to　realize　it。　He　strode　to　the　side。　The　Governor　was　approaching　in　a　big　pulling…boat；　which　was　steering　towards　them　along　the　clear　channel　through　the　thin　ice　which　the　last　eddies　of　the　Dwina　river　still　kept　clear　before　they　lost　themselves　in　the　Bay。　As　the　Governor　caught　sight　of　him　he　sprang　up　into　the　sternsheets　waving　his　cocked　hat；　he　even　tried　to　dance；　precariously；　both　arms　extended　over　his　head；　at　imminent　risk　of　falling　overboard。
　〃Something's　up；　sir；〃　said　Bush　at　Hornblower's　side。
　〃That　looks　like　good　news；〃　said　Hornblower。
　The　Governor　arrived　on　the　quarter…deck；　hat　still　in　hand。　He　flung　his　arms　round　Hornblower　and　hugged　him；　swinging　his　lean　body　up　into　the　air　so　that　his　feet　left　the　deck。　Hornblower　could　imagine　the　grins　that　were　being　exchanged　around　him　as　he　kicked　in　the　air　like　a　baby。　The　Governor　put　him　down；　clapped　his　hat　on　his　head；　and　then　seized　first　Hornblower's　hand　and　then　Bush's；　and　tried　to　dance　a　sort　of　ring…a…ring…of…roses　with　the　two　Englishmen。　There　was　no　more　controlling　him　than　one　could　control　a　bear。
　〃What　is　the　news；　Your　Excellency？〃　asked　Hornblower；　Essen's　grip　on　his　hand　was　painful。
　〃Oh；〃　said　Essen；　flinging　the　Englishman's　hands　away　so　as　to　spread　his　arms　again。　〃Bonaparte　has　started　to　retreat。〃
　〃Has　he；　by　God！〃　said　Hornblower。
　〃What　does　he　say；　sir？〃　asked　Bush；　quite　incapable　of　understanding　Essen's　French；　but　Hornblower　had　no　time　for　Bush；　because　the　Governor　was　pouring　out　his　news　in　a　torrent　of　gutturals；　drawing　upon　the　vocabularies　of　half　Europe　for　his　words　so　that　even　Hornblower　could　hardly　understand　what　he　was　saying。
　〃He　left　Moscow　five　days　back；〃　roared　Essen。　〃We　beat　him　at　Malo…Jaroslavetz。　Beat　him　in　a　pitched　battle；　and　now　he's　running　as　hard　as　he　can　for　Smolensk　and　Warsaw。　And　he　won't　get　there　before　the　snows！　He'll　be　lucky　if　he　gets　there　at　all！　Chichagov　is　marching　hard　to　cut　off　his　retreat　at　the　Beresina。　He's　ruined。　They're　dying　in　thousands　every　night　already！　Nothing　to　eat；　and　winter's　here！〃
　Essen　stamped　grotesquely　about　the　deck；　more　like　a　dancing　bear　than　ever。
　〃Please；　sir；　please。　What　does　he　say？〃　asked　Bush　pathetically。
　Hornblower　translated　to　the　best　of　his　ability；　the　other　quarter…deck　officers　eavesdropping　shamelessly。　As　the　wonderful　nature　of　the　good　news　dawned　upon　them；　they　began　to　cheer；　down　on　the　main…deck　they　caught　the　infection；　and　all　through　the　ship　men　were　cheering　and　tossing　their　hats　in　the　air；　even　though　they　hardly　knew　what　they　were　cheering　about；　save　for　the　hurried　words　that　flew　from　lip　to　lip　…　〃Boney's　beaten！〃
　〃We　can　get　out　of　this　bay　before　the　ice　es；　by　God！〃　said　Bush；　snapping　his　fingers；　it　was　obvious　that　if　he　had　not　a　wooden　leg　he　would　be　dancing　too。
　Hornblower　looked　across　at　the　mainland。
　〃Macdonald's　shown　no　sign　of　retreating　yet；〃　he　said。　〃If　he　had　the　Governor　would　have　mentioned　it。〃
　〃But　don't　you　think　he'll　have　to；　sir？〃　Bush's　expressive　face　showed　anxiety　now　instead　of　joy。　A　moment　before　anything　delightful　had　been　possible　…　escape　from　Riga　Bay；　possibly　even　escape　from　this　landlocked　Baltic　altogether；　maybe　even　a　return　to　England；　but　now　Bush　was　back　again　to　the　cold　reality　that　the　siege　of　Riga　was　still　going　on。
　〃He　may　have　to　retreat；〃　said　Hornblower；　〃but　until　then　we　stay　here；　unless　I　receive　orders　to　the　contrary。〃
　Essen　caught　sight　of　their　sober　faces　and　turned　on　them　again。　He　slapped　Bush　on　the　back　so　that　he　staggered　with　the　force　of　the　b