csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第25部分

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the　room　the　rest　of　the　guard　off　duty　were　snoring　stertorously；　huddled　together　like　pigs　in　a　sty；　their　muskets　stacked　against　the　wall。
　Hornblower　nodded　to　the　sergeant；　opened　the　front　door　and　stepped　out　into　the　street。　His　lungs　expanded　gratefully　as　he　breathed　in　the　clean　night　air…morning　air；　rather；　for　there　to　the　east　the　sky　was　assuming　a　lighter　tinge…and　the　sentry；　catching　sight　of　the　British　naval　officer；　came　clumsily　to　attention。　In　the　square　there　still　stood　the　gaunt　harsh　framework　of　the　guillotine　reaching　up　to　the　moonlit　sky；　and　round　it　the　black　patch　of　the　blood　of　its　victims。　Hornblower　wondered　who　they　were；　who　it　could　have　been　that　the　Royalists　should　seize　and　kill　at　such　short　notice；　and　he　decided　that　they　must　have　been　petty　officials　of　the　Revolutionary　government…the　mayor　and　the　customs　officer　and　so　on…if　they　were　not　merely　men　against　whom　the　émigrés　had　cherished　grudges　since　the　days　of　the　Revolution　itself。　It　was　a　savage；　merciless　world；　and　at　the　moment　he　was　very　much　alone　in　it；　lonely；　depressed；　and　unhappy。
　He　was　distracted　from　these　thoughts　by　the　sergeant　of　the　guard　emerging　from　the　door　with　a　file　of　men；　the　sentry　in　the　street　was　relieved；　and　the　party　went　on　round　the　house　to　relieve　the　others。　Then　across　the　street　he　saw　four　drummers　appear　from　another　house；　with　a　sergeant　manding　them。　They　formed　into　a　line；　their　drumsticks　poised　high　before　their　faces；　and　then　at　a　word　from　the　sergeant；　the　eight　drumsticks　fell　together　with　a　crash；　and　the　drummers　proceeded　to　march　slowly　along　the　street　beating　out　a　jerky　exhilarating　rhythm。　At　the　first　corner　they　stopped；　and　the　drums　rolled　long　and　menacingly；　and　then　they　marched　on　again；　beating　out　the　previous　rhythm。　They　were　beating　to　arms；　calling　the　men　to　their　duties　from　their　billets；　and　Hornblower；　tone…deaf　but　highly　sensitive　to　rhythm；　thought　it　was　fine　music；　real　music。　He　turned　back　to　headquarters　with　his　depression　fallen　away　from　him。　The　sergeant　of　the　guard　came　marching　back　with　the　relieved　sentries；　the　first　of　the　awakened　soldiers　were　beginning　to　appear　sleepily　in　the　streets；　and　then；　with　a　clatter　of　hoofs；　a　mounted　messenger　came　riding　up　to　headquarters；　and　the　day　was　begun。
　A　pale　young　French　officer　read　the　note　which　the　messenger　brought；　and　politely　handed　it　to　Hornblower　to　read；　he　had　to　puzzle　over　it　for　a　space…he　was　not　accustomed　to　hand…written　French…but　its　meaning　became　clear　to　him　at　length。　It　implied　no　new　development；　the　main　expeditionary　force；　landed　yesterday　at　Quiberon；　would　move　forward　this　morning　on　Vannes　and　Rennes　while　the　subsidiary　force　to　which　Hornblower　was　attached　must　maintain　its　position　at　Muzillac；　guarding　its　flank。　The　Marquis　de　Pouzauges；　immaculate　in　his　white　uniform　and　blue　ribbon；　appeared　at　that　moment；　read　the　note　without　ment；　and　turned　to　Hornblower　with　a　polite　invitation　to　breakfast。
　They　went　back　to　the　big　kitchen　with　its　copper　cooking　pans　glittering　on　the　walls；　and　a　silent　woman　brought　them　coffee　and　bread。　She　might　be　a　patriotic　Frenchwoman　and　an　enthusiastic　counter…revolutionary；　but　she　showed　no　signs　of　it。　Her　feelings；　of　course；　might　easily　have　been　influenced　by　the　fact　that　this　horde　of　men　had　taken　over　her　house　and　were　eating　her　food　and　sleeping　in　her　rooms　without　payment。　Maybe　some　of　the　horses　and　wagons　seized　for　the　use　of　the　army　were　hers　too…and　maybe　some　of　the　people　who　had　died　under　the　guillotine　last　night　were　her　friends。　But　she　brought　coffee；　and　the　staff；　standing　about　in　the　big　kitchen　with　their　spurs　clinking；　began　to　breakfast。　Hornblower　took　his　cup　and　a　piece　of　bread…for　four　months　before　this　his　only　bread　had　been　ship's　biscuit…and　sipped　at　the　stuff。　He　was　not　sure　if　he　liked　it；　he　had　only　tasted　coffee　three　or　four　times　before。　But　the　second　time　he　raised　his　cup　to　his　lips　he　did　not　sip；　before　he　could　do　so；　the　distant　boom　of　a　cannon　made　him　lower　his　cup　and　stand　stock　still。　The　cannon　shot　was　repeated；　and　again；　and　then　it　was　echoed　by　a　sharper；　nearer　note…Midshipman　Bracegirdle's　six…pounders　on　the　causeway。
　In　the　kitchen　there　was　instant　stir　and　bustle。　Somebody　knocked　a　cup　over　and　sent　a　river　of　black　liquid　swirling　across　the　table。　Somebody　else　managed　to　catch　his　spurs　together　so　that　he　stumbled　into　somebody　else's　arms。　Everyone　seemed　to　be　speaking　at　once。　Hornblower　was　as　excited　as　the　rest　of　them；　he　wanted　to　rush　out　and　see　what　was　happening；　but　he　thought　at　that　moment　of　the　disciplined　calm　which　he　had　seen　in　H。M。S。　Indefatigable　as　she　went　into　action。　He　was　not　of　this　breed　of　Frenchmen；　and　to　prove　it　he　made　himself　put　his　cup　to　his　lips　again　and　drink　calmly。　Already　most　of　the　staff　had　dashed　out　of　the　kitchen　shouting　for　their　horses。　It　would　take　time　to　saddle　up；　he　met　Pouzauges'　eye　as　the　latter　strode　up　and　down　the　kitchen；　and　drained　his　cup…a　trifle　too　hot　for　fort；　but　he　felt　it　was　a　good　gesture。　There　was　bread　to　eat；　and　he　made　himself　bite　and　chew　and　swallow；　although　he　had　no　appetite；　if　he　was　to　be　in　the　field　all　day；　he　could　not　tell　when　he　would　get　his　next　meal；　and　so　he　crammed　a　half　loaf　into　his　pocket。
　The　horses　were　being　brought　into　the　yard　and　saddled；　the　excitement　had　infected　them；　and　they　plunged　and　sidled　about　amid　the　curses　of　the　officers。　Pouzauges　leapt　up　into　his　saddle　and　clattered　away　with　the　rest　of　the　staff　behind　him；　leaving　behind　only　a　single　soldier　holding　Hornblower's　roan。　That　was　as　it　had　better　be…Hornblower　knew　that　he　would　not　keep　his　seat　for　half　a　minute　if　the　horse　took　it　into　his　head　to　plunge　or　rear。　He　walked　slowly　out　to　the　animal；　which　was　calmer　now　when　the　groom　petted　him；　and　climbed　with　infinite　slowness　and　precaution　into　the　saddle。　With　a　pull　at　the　bit　he　checked　the　brute's　exuberance　and　walked　it　sedately　into　the　street　and　towards　the　bridge　in　the　wake　of　the　galloping　staff。　It　was　better　to　make　sure　of　arriving　by　keeping　his　horse　down　to　a　walk　than　to　gallop　and　be　thrown。　The　guns　were　still　booming　and　he　could　see　the　puffs　of　smoke　from　Bracegirdle's　six…pounders。　On　his　left；　the　sun　was　rising　in　a　clear　sky。
　At　the　bridge　the　situation　seemed　obvious　enough。　Where　the　arch　had　been　blown　up　a　few　skirmishers　on　either　side　were　firing　at　each　other　across　the　gap；　and　at　the　far　end　of　the　causeway；　across　the　Marais；　a　cloud　of　smoke　revealed　the　presence　of　a　hostile　battery　firing　slowly　and　at　extreme　range。　Beside　the　causeway　on　this　side　were　Bracegirdle's　two　six…pounders；　almost　perfectly　covered　by　a　dip　in　the　ground。　Bracegirdle；　with　his　cutlass　belted　round　him；　was　standing　between　the　guns　which　his　party　of　seamen　were　working；　and　he　waved　his　hand　lightheartedly　at　Hornblower　when　he　caught　sight　of　him。　A　dark　column　of　infantry　appeared　on　the　distant　causeway。　Bang…bang　went　Bracegirdle's　guns。　Hornblower's　horse　plunged　at　the　noise；　distracting　him；　but　when　he　had　time　to　look　again；　the　column　had　disappeared。　Then　suddenly　the　causeway　parapet　near　him　flew　into　splinters；　something　hit　the　roadbed　beside　his　horse's　feet　a　tremendous　blow　and　passed　on　with　a　roar…that　was　the　closest　so　far　in　his　life　that　a　cannon　shot　had　missed　him。　He　lost　a　stirrup　during　the　resultant　struggle　with　his　horse；　and　deemed　it　wiser；　as　soon　as　he　regained　moderate　control；　to　dismount　and　lead　the　animal　off　the　causeway　towards　the　guns。　Bracegirdle　met　him　with　a　grin。
　'No　chance　of　their　crossing　here；'　he　said。　'At　least；　not　if　the　Frogs　stick　to　their　work；　and　it　looks　as　if　they're　willing　to。　The　gap's　within　grapeshot　range；　they'll　never　bridge　it。　Can't　think　what　they're　burning　powder　for。'
　'Testing　our　strength；　I　suppose；'　said　Hornblower；　with　an　air　of　infinite　military　wisdom。
　He　would　have　been　shaking　with　excitement　if　he　had　allowed　his　body　to　take　charge。　He　did　not　know　if　he　were　being　stiltedly　unnatural；　but　even　if　he　were　that　was　better　than　to　display　excitement。　There　was　something　strangely　pleasant；　in　a　nightmare　fashion；　in　standing　here　posing　as　a　hardened　veteran　with　cannon　balls　howling　overhead；　Bracegirdle　seemed　happy　and　smiling　and　quite　master　of　himself；　and　Hornblower　looked　sharply　at　him；　wondering　if　this　were　as　much　a　pose　as　his　own。　He　could　not　tell。
　'Here　they　e　again；'　said　Bracegirdle。　'Oh；　only　skirmishers。'
　A　few　scattered　men　were　running　out　along　the　causeway　to　the　bridge。　At　long　musket　range　they　fell　to　the　ground　and　began　spasmodic　firing；　already　there　were　some　dead　men　lying　over　there　and　the　skirmishers　took　cover　behind　the　corpses。　On　this　side　of　the　gap　the　skirmishers；　better　sheltered；　fired　back　at　them。
　'They　haven't　a　chance；　here　at　any　rate；'　said　Bracegirdle　'And　look　there。'
　The　main　body　of　the　Royalist　force；　summoned　from　the　town；　was　marching　up　along　the　road。　While　they　watched　it；　a　cannon　shot　from　the　other　side　struck　the　head　of　the　column　and　ploughed　into　it…Hornblower　saw　dead　men　flung　this　way　and　that；　and　the　column　wavered。　Pouzauges　came　riding　up　and　yelled　orders；　and　the　column；　leaving　its　dead　and　wounded　on　the　road；　changed　direction　and　took　shelter　in　the　marshy　fields　beside　the　causeway。
　With　nearly　all　the　Royalist　force　assembled；　it　seemed　indeed　as　if　it　would　be　utterly　impossible　for　the　Revolutionaries　to　force　a　crossing　here。
　'I'd　better　report　on　this　to　the　Lobsters；'　said　Hornblower。
　'There　was　firing　down　that　way　at　dawn；'　agreed　Bracegirdle。
　Skirting　the　wide　marsh　here　ran　a　narrow　path　through　the　lush　grass；　leading　to　the　ford　which　the　43rd　were　guarding。　Hornblower　led　his　horse　onto　the　path　before　he　mounted；　he　felt　he　would　be　more　sure　in　that　way　of　persuading　the　horse　to　take　that　direction。　It　was　not　long　before　he　saw　a　dab　of　scarlet　on　the　river　bank…pickets　thrown　out　from　the　main　body　to　watch　against　any　unlikely　attempt　to　cross　the　marshes　and　stream　round　the　British　flank。　Then　he　saw　the　cot