csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第5部分

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s　destined　opponent　before　the　moment　of　the　duel　kept　him　necessarily　in　isolation；　as　far　as　isolation　could　be　found　on　the　crowded　decks　of　the　Justinian。　He　slung　his　hammock　that　night　in　a　depressed　mood；　feeling　unnaturally　tired；　and　he　undressed　in　the　clammy；　stuffy　dampness　of　the　'tweendecks　feeling　more　than　usually　cold。　He　hugged　the　blankets　round　himself；　yearning　to　relax　in　their　warmth；　but　relaxation　would　not　e。　Time　after　time　as　he　began　to　drift　off　to　sleep　he　woke　again　tense　and　anxious；　full　of　thoughts　of　the　morrow。　He　turned　over　wearily　a　dozen　times；　hearing　the　ship's　bell　ring　out　each　half　hour；　feeling　a　growing　contempt　at　his　cowardice。　He　told　himself　in　the　end　that　it　was　as　well　that　his　fate　to…morrow　depended　upon　pure　chance；　for　if　he　had　to　rely　upon　steadiness　of　hand　and　eye　he　would　be　dead　for　certain　after　a　night　like　this。
　That　conclusion　presumably　helped　him　to　go　to　sleep　for　the　last　hour　or　two　of　the　night；　for　he　awoke　with　a　start　to　find　Danvers　shaking　him。
　'Five　bells；'　said　Danvers。　'Dawn　in　an　hour。　Rise　and　shine！'
　Hornblower　slid　out　of　his　hammock　and　stood　in　his　shirt；　the　'tweendecks　was　nearly　dark　and　Danvers　was　almost　invisible。
　'Number　One's　letting　us　have　the　second　cutter；'　said　Danvers。　'Masters　and　Simpson　and　that　lot　are　going　first　in　the　launch。　Here's　Preston。'
　Another　shadowy　figure　loomed　up　in　the　darkness。
　'Hellish　cold；'　said　Preston。　'The　devil　of　a　morning　to　turn　out。　Nelson；　where's　that　tea？'
　The　mess　attendant　came　with　it　as　Hornblower　was　hauling　on　his　trousers。　It　maddened　Hornblower　that　he　shivered　enough　in　the　cold　for　the　cup　to　clatter　in　the　saucer　as　he　took　it。　But　the　tea　was　grateful；　and　Hornblower　drank　it　eagerly。
　'Give　me　another　cup；'　he　said；　and　was　proud　of　himself　that　he　could　think　about　tea　at　that　moment。
　It　was　still　dark　as　they　went　down　into　the　cutter。
　'Shove　off；'　said　the　coxswain；　and　the　boat　pushed　off　from　the　ship's　side。　There　was　a　keen　cold　wind　blowing　which　filled　the　dipping　lug　as　the　cutter　headed　for　the　twin　lights　that　marked　the　jetty。
　'I　ordered　a　hackney　coach　at　the　George　to　be　waiting　for　us；'　said　Danvers。　'Let's　hope　it　is。'
　It　was　there；　with　the　driver　sufficiently　sober　to　control　his　horse　moderately　well　despite　his　overnight　potations。　Danvers　produced　a　pocket　flask　as　they　settled　themselves　in　with　their　feet　in　the　straw。
　'Take　a　sip；　Hornblower？'　he　asked；　proffering　it。　'There's　no　special　need　for　a　steady　hand　this　morning。'
　'No　thank　you；'　said　Hornblower。　His　empty　stomach　revolted　at　the　idea　of　pouring　spirits　into　it。
　'The　others　will　be　there　before　us；'　mented　Preston。　'I　saw　the　quarter　boat　heading　back　just　before　we　reached　the　jetty。'
　The　etiquette　of　the　duel　demanded　that　the　two　opponents　should　reach　the　ground　separately；　but　only　one　boat　would　be　necessary　for　the　return。
　'The　sawbones　is　with　them；'　said　Danvers。　'Though　God　knows　what　use　he　thinks　he'll　be　to…day。'
　He　sniggered；　and　with　overlate　politeness　tried　to　cut　his　snigger　off　short。
　'How　are　you　feeling；　Hornblower？'　asked　Preston。
　'Well　enough；'　said　Hornblower；　forbearing　to　add　that　he　only　felt　well　enough　while　this　kind　of　conversation　was　not　being　carried　on。
　The　hackney　coach　levelled　itself　off　as　it　came　over　the　crest　of　the　hill；　and　stopped　beside　the　mon。　Another　coach　stood　there　waiting；　its　single　candle…lamp　burning　yellow　in　the　growing　dawn。
　'There　they　are；'　said　Preston；　the　faint　light　revealed　a　shadowy　group　standing　on　frosty　turf　among　the　gorse　bushes。
　Hornblower；　as　they　approached；　caught　a　glimpse　of　Simpson's　face　as　he　stood　a　little　detached　from　the　others。　It　was　pale；　and　Hornblower　noticed　that　at　that　moment　he　swallowed　nervously；　just　as　he　himself　was　doing。　Masters　came　towards　them；　shooting　his　usual　keen　inquisitive　look　at　Hornblower　as　they　came　together。
　'This　is　the　moment；'　he　said；　'for　this　quarrel　to　be　posed。　This　country　is　at　war。　I　hope；　Mr　Hornblower；　that　you　can　be　persuaded　to　save　a　life　for　the　King's　service　by　not　pressing　this　matter。'
　Hornblower　looked　across　at　Simpson；　while　Danvers　answered　for　him。
　'Has　Mr　Simpson　offered　the　proper　redress？'　asked　Danvers。
　'Mr　Simpson　is　willing　to　acknowledge　that　he　wishes　the　incident　had　never　taken　place。'
　'That　is　an　unsatisfactory　form；'　said　Danvers。　'It　does　not　include　an　apology；　and　you　must　agree　that　an　apology　is　necessary；　sir。'
　'What　does　your　principal　say？'　persisted　Masters。
　'It　is　not　for　any　principal　to　speak　in　these　circumstances；'　said　Danvers；　with　a　glance　at　Hornblower；　who　nodded。　All　this　was　as　inevitable　as　the　ride　in　the　hangman's　cart；　and　as　hideous。　There　could　be　no　going　back　now；　Hornblower　had　never　thought　for　one　moment　that　Simpson　would　apologize；　and　without　an　apology　the　affair　must　be　carried　to　a　bloody　conclusion。　An　even　chance　that　he　did　not　have　five　minutes　longer　to　live。
　'You　are　determined；　then；　gentlemen；'　said　Masters。　'I　shall　have　to　state　that　fact　in　my　report。'
　'We　are　determined；'　said　Preston。
　'Then　there　is　nothing　for　it　but　to　allow　this　deplorable　affair　to　proceed。　I　left　the　pistols　in　the　charge　of　Doctor　Hepplewhite。'
　He　turned　and　led　them　towards　the　other　group…Simpson　with　Hether　and　Cleveland；　and　Doctor　Hepplewhite　standing　with　a　pistol　held　by　the　muzzle　in　each　hand。　He　was　a　bulky　man　with　the　red　face　of　a　persistent　drinker；　he　was　actually　grinning　a　spirituous　grin　at　that　moment；　rocking　a　little　on　his　feet。
　'Are　the　young　fools　set　in　their　folly？'　he　asked；　but　everyone　very　properly　ignored　him　as　having　no　business　to　ask　such　a　question　at　such　a　moment。
　'Now；'　said　Masters。　'Here　are　the　pistols；　both　primed；　as　you　see；　but　one　loaded　and　the　other　unloaded；　in　accordance　with　the　conditions。　I　have　here　a　guinea　which　I　propose　to　spin　to　decide　the　allocation　of　the　weapons。　Now；　gentlemen；　shall　the　spin　give　your　principals　one　pistol　each　irrevocably…for　instance；　if　the　coin　shows　heads　shall　Mr　Simpson　have　this　one…or　shall　the　winner　of　the　spin　have　choice　of　weapons　？　It　is　my　design　to　eliminate　all　possibility　of　collusion　as　far　as　possible。'
　Hether　and　Cleveland　and　Danvers　and　Preston　exchanged　dubious　glances。
　'Let　the　winner　of　the　spin　choose；'　said　Preston　at　length。
　'Very　well；　gentlemen。　Please　call；　Mr　Hornblower。'
　'Tails！'　said　Hornblower　as　the　gold　piece　spun　in　the　air。
　Masters　caught　it　and　clapped　a　hand　over　it。
　'Tails　it　is；'　said　Masters；　lifting　his　hand　and　revealing　the　coin　to　the　grouped　seconds。　'Please　make　your　choice。'
　Hepplewhite　held　out　the　two　pistols　to　him；　death　in　one　hand　and　life　in　the　other。　It　was　a　grim　moment。　There　was　only　pure　chance　to　direct　him；　it　called　for　a　little　effort　to　force　his　hand　out。
　'I'll　have　this　one；'　he　said；　as　he　touched　it　the　weapon　seemed　icy　cold。
　'Then　now　I　have　done　what　was　required　of　me；'　said　Masters。　'The　rest　is　for　you　gentlemen　to　carry　out。'
　'Take　this　one；　Simpson；'　said　Hepplewhite。　'And　be　careful　how　you　handle　yours；　Mr　Hornblower。　You're　a　public　danger。'
　The　man　was　still　grinning；　gloating　over　the　fact　that　someone　else　was　in　mortal　danger　while　he　himself　was　in　none。　Simpson　took　the　pistol　Hepplewhite　offered　him　and　settled　it　into　his　hand；　once　more　his　eyes　met　Hornblower's；　but　there　was　neither　recognition　nor　expression　in　them。
　'There　are　no　distances　to　step　out；'　Danvers　was　saying。　'One　spot's　as　good　as　another。　It's　level　enough　here。'
　'Very　good；'　said　Hether。　'Will　you　stand　here；　Mr　Simpson？'
　Preston　beckoned　to　Hornblower；　who　walked　over。　It　was　not　easy　to　appear　brisk　and　unconcerned。　Preston　took　him　by　the　arm　and　stood　him　up　in　front　of　Simpson；　almost　breast　to　breast…close　enough　to　smell　the　alcohol　on　his　breath。
　'For　the　last　time；　gentlemen；'　said　Masters　loudly。　'Cannot　you　be　reconciled？'
　There　was　no　answer　from　anybody；　only　deep　silence；　during　which　it　seemed　to　Hornblower　that　the　frantic　beating　of　his　heart　must　be　clearly　audible。　The　silence　was　broken　by　an　exclamation　from　Hether。
　'We　haven't　settled　who's　to　give　the　word！'　he　said。　'Who's　going　to？'
　'Let's　ask　Mr　Masters　to　give　it；'　said　Danvers。
　Hornblower　did　not　look　round。　He　was　looking　steadfastly　at　the　grey　sky　past　Simpson's　right　ear…somehow　he　could　not　look　him　in　the　face；　and　he　had　no　idea　where　Simpson　was　looking。　The　end　of　the　world　as　he　knew　it　was　close　to　him…soon　there　might　be　a　bullet　through　his　heart。
　'I　will　do　it　if　you　are　agreed；　gentlemen；'　he　heard　Masters　say。
　The　grey　sky　was　featureless；　for　this　last　look　on　the　world　he　might　as　well　have　been　blindfolded。　Masters　raised　his　voice　again。
　'I　will　say　〃one；　two；　three；　fire〃；'　he　announced；　'with　those　intervals。　At　the　last　word；　gentlemen；　you　can　fire　as　you　will。　Are　you　ready？'
　'Yes；'　came　Simpson's　voice；　almost　in　Hornblower's　ear；　it　seemed。
　'Yes；'　said　Hornblower。　He　could　hear　the　strain　in　his　own　voice。
　'One；'　said　Masters；　and　Hornblower　felt　at　that　moment　the　muzzle　of　Simpson's　pistol　against　his　left　ribs；　and　he　raised　his　own。
　It　was　in　that　second　that　he　decided　he　could　not　kill　Simpson　even　if　it　were　in　his　power；　and　he　went　on　lifting　his　pistol；　forcing　himself　to　look　to　see　that　it　was　pressed　against　the　point　of　Simpson's　shoulder。　A　slight　wound　would　suffice。
　'Two；'　said　Masters。　'Three。　Firel'
　Hornblower　pulled　his　trigger。　There　was　a　click　and　a　spurt　of　smoke　from　the　lock　of　his　pistol。　The　priming　had　gone　off　but　no　more…his　was　the　unloaded　weapon；　and　he　knew　what　it　was　to　die。　A　tenth　of　a　second　later　there　was　a　click　and　spurt　of　smoke　from　Simpson's　pistol　against　his　heart。　Stiff　and　still　they　both　stood；　slow　to　realize　what　had　happened。
　'A　miss…fire；　by　God！'　said　Danvers。
　The　seconds　crowded　round　them。
　'Give　me　those　pistols！'　said　Masters；　taking　them　from　the　weak　hands　that　held　them。　'The　loaded　one　might　be　hanging　fire；　and　we　don't　want　it　to　go　off　now。'
　'Which　was　the　loaded　one？'　asked　Hether；　consumed　with　curiosity。
　'That　is