csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第17部分

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proving　Hornblower　neither　knew　nor　cared。　He　had　done　his　duty；　and　he　was　certain　of　it。　He　had　struck　down　a　helpless　idiot；　most　probably　he　had　killed　him；　but　the　surprise　upon　which　the　success　of　the　expedition　depended　had　not　been　imperilled。　He　reshipped　the　tiller　and　resumed　the　silent　task　of　keeping　in　the　wake　of　the　gigs。
　Far　away　ahead…in　the　darkness　it　was　impossible　to　estimate　the　distance…there　was　a　nucleus　of　greater　darkness；　close　on　the　surface　of　the　black　water。　It　might　be　the　corvette。　A　dozen　more　silent　strokes；　and　Hornblower　was　sure　of　it。　Soames　had　done　a　magnificent　job　of　pilotage；　leading　the　boats　straight　to　that　objective。　The　cutter　and　launch　were　diverging　now　from　the　two　gigs。　The　four　boats　were　separating　in　readiness　to　launch　their　simultaneous　converging　attack。
　'Easy！'　whispered　Hornblower；　and　the　jolly　boat's　crew　ceased　to　pull。
　Hornblower　had　his　orders。　He　had　to　wait　until　the　attack　had　gained　a　foothold　on　the　deck。　His　hand　clenched　convulsively　on　the　tiller；　the　excitement　of　dealing　with　Hales　had　driven　the　thought　of　having　to　ascend　strange　rigging　in　the　darkness　clear　out　of　his　head；　and　now　it　recurred　with　redoubled　urgency。　Hornblower　was　afraid。
　Although　he　could　see　the　corvette；　the　boats　had　vanished　from　his　sight；　had　passed　out　of　his　field　of　vision。　The　corvette　rode　to　her　anchor；　her　spars　just　visible　against　the　night　sky…that　was　where　he　had　to　climb！　She　seemed　to　tower　up　hugely。　Close　by　the　corvette　he　saw　a　splash　in　the　dark　water…the　boats　were　closing　in　fast　and　someone's　stroke　had　been　a　little　careless。　At　the　same　moment　came　a　shout　from　the　corvette's　deck；　and　when　the　shout　was　repeated　it　was　echoed　a　hundred　fold　from　the　boats　rushing　alongside。　The　yelling　was　lusty　and　prolonged；　of　set　purpose。　A　sleeping　enemy　would　be　bewildered　by　the　din；　and　the　progress　of　the　shouting　would　tell　each　boat's　crew　of　the　extent　of　the　success　of　the　others。　The　British　seamen　were　yelling　like　madmen。　A　flash　and　a　bang　from　the　corvette's　deck　told　of　the　firing　of　the　first　shot；　soon　pistols　were　popping　and　muskets　banging　from　several　points　of　the　deck。
　'Give　way！'　said　Hornblower。　He　uttered　the　order　as　if　it　had　been　torn　from　him　by　the　rack。
　The　jolly　boat　moved　forward；　while　Hornblower　fought　down　his　feelings　and　tried　to　make　out　what　was　going　on　on　board。　He　could　see　no　reason　for　choosing　either　side　of　the　corvette　in　preference　to　the　other；　and　the　larboard　side　was　the　nearer；　and　so　he　steered　the　boat　to　the　larboard　main　chains。　So　interested　was　he　in　what　he　was　doing　that　he　only　remembered　in　the　nick　of　time　to　give　the　order；　'In　oars。'　He　put　the　tiller　over　and　the　boat　swirled　round　and　the　bowman　hooked　on。　From　the　deck　just　above　came　a　noise　exactly　like　a　tinker　hammering　on　a　cooking…pot…Hornblower　noted　the　curious　noise　as　he　stood　up　in　the　stern　sheets。　He　felt　the　cutlass　at　his　side　and　the　pistol　in　his　belt；　and　then　he　sprang　for　the　chains。　With　a　mad　leap　he　reached　them　and　hauled　himself　up。　The　shrouds　came　into　his　hands；　his　feet　found　the　ratlines　beneath　them；　and　he　began　to　climb。　As　his　head　cleared　the　bulwark　and　he　could　see　the　deck　the　flash　of　a　pistol　shot　illuminated　the　scene　momentarily；　fixing　the　struggle　on　the　deck　in　a　static　moment；　like　a　picture。　Before　and　below　him　a　British　seaman　was　fighting　a　furious　cutlass　duel　with　a　French　officer；　and　he　realized　with　vague　astonishment　that　the　kettle…mending　noise　he　had　heard　was　the　sound　of　cutlass　against　cutlass…that　clash　of　steel　against　steel　that　poets　wrote　about。　So　much　for　romance。
　The　realization　carried　him　far　up　the　shrouds。　At　his　elbow　he　felt　the　futtock　shrouds　and　he　transferred　himself　to　them；　hanging　back　downward　with　his　toes　hooked　into　the　ratlines　and　his　hands　clinging　like　death。　That　only　lasted　for　two　or　three　desperate　seconds；　and　then　he　hauled　himself　onto　the　topmast　shrouds　and　began　the　final　ascent；　his　lungs　bursting　with　the　effort。　Here　was　the　topsail　yard；　and　Hornblower　flung　himself　across　it　and　felt　with　his　feet　for　the　footrope。　Merciful　God！　There　was　no　footrope…his　feet　searching　in　the　darkness　met　only　unresisting　air。　A　hundred　feet　above　the　deck　he　hung；　squirming　and　kicking　like　a　baby　held　up　at　arm's　length　in　its　father's　hands。　There　was　no　footrope；　it　may　have　been　with　this　very　situation　in　mind　that　the　Frenchmen　had　removed　it。　There　was　no　footrope；　so　that　he　could　not　make　his　way　out　to　the　yardarm。　Yet　the　gaskets　must　be　cast　off　and　the　sail　loosed…everything　depended　on　that。　Hornblower　had　seen　daredevil　seamen　run　out　along　the　yards　standing　upright；　as　though　walking　a　tightrope。　That　was　the　only　way　to　reach　the　yardarm　now。
　For　a　moment　he　could　not　breathe　as　his　weak　flesh　revolted　against　the　thought　of　walking　along　that　yard　above　the　black　abyss。　This　was　fear；　the　fear　that　stripped　a　man　of　his　manhood；　turning　his　bowels　to　water　and　his　limbs　to　paper。　Yet　his　furiously　active　mind　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