csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第12部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　'We　must　fother　a　sail　and　get　it　over　that　hole；'　he　announced。　'Call　those　Frenchmen　over。'
　To　fother　a　sail　was　to　make　something　like　a　vast　hairy　doormat　out　of　it；　by　threading　innumerable　lengths　of　half…unravelled　line　through　it。　When　this　was　done　the　sail　would　be　lowered　below　the　ship's　bottom　and　placed　against　the　hole。　The　inward　pressure　would　then　force　the　hairy　mass　so　tightly　against　the　hole　that　the　entrance　of　water　would　be　made　at　least　much　more　difficult。
　The　Frenchmen　were　not　quick　to　help　in　the　task；　it　was　no　longer　their　ship；　and　they　were　heading　for　an　English　prison；　so　that　even　with　their　lives　at　stake　they　were　somewhat　apathetic。　It　took　time　to　get　out　a　new　topgallant　sail…Hornblower　felt　that　the　stouter　the　canvas　the　better…and　to　set　a　party　to　work　cutting　lengths　of　line；　threading　them　through；　and　unravelling　them。　The　French　captain　looked　at　them　squatting　on　the　deck　all　at　work。
　'Five　years　I　spent　in　a　prison　hulk　in　Portsmouth　during　the　last　war；'　he　said。　'Five　years。'
　'Yes；'　said　Hornblower。
　He　might　have　felt　sympathy；　but　he　was　not　only　preoccupied　with　his　own　problems　but　he　was　numb　with　cold。　He　not　only　had　every　intention　if　possible　of　escorting　the　French　captain　to　England　and　to　prison　again　but　he　also　at　that　very　moment　intended　to　go　below　and　appropriate　some　of　his　spare　clothing。
　Down　below　it　seemed　to　Hornblower　as　if　the　noises　all　about　him…the　creaks　and　groans　of　a　wooden　ship　at　sea…were　more　pronounced　than　usual。　The　brig　was　riding　easily　enough　hove…to；　and　yet　the　bulkheads　down　below　were　cracking　and　creaking　as　if　the　brig　were　racking　herself　to　pieces　in　a　storm。　He　dismissed　the　notion　as　a　product　of　his　over…stimulated　imagination　but　by　the　time　he　had　towelled　himself　into　something　like　warmth　and　put　on　the　captain's　best　suit　it　recurred　to　him；　the　brig　was　groaning　as　if　in　stress。
　He　came　on　deck　again　to　see　how　the　working　party　was　progressing。　He　had　hardly　been　on　deck　two　minutes　when　one　of　the　Frenchmen；　reaching　back　for　another　length　of　line；　stopped　in　his　movement　to　stare　at　the　deck。　He　picked　at　a　deck　seam；　looked　up　and　caught　Hornblower's　eye；　and　called　to　him。　Hornblower　made　no　pretence　of　understanding　the　words；　the　gestures　explained　themselves。　The　deck　seam　was　opening　a　little；　the　pitch　was　bulging　out　of　it。　Hornblower　looked　at　the　phenomenon　without　understanding　it…only　a　foot　or　two　of　the　seam　was　open；　and　the　rest　of　the　deck　seemed　solid　enough。　No！　Now　that　his　attention　was　called　to　it；　and　he　looked　further；　there　were　one　or　two　other　places　in　the　deck　where　the　pitch　had　risen　in　ridges　from　out　of　the　seams。　It　was　something　beyond　his　limited　experience；　even　beyond　his　extensive　reading。　But　the　French　captain　was　his　side　staring　at　the　deck　too。
　'My　God！'　he　said。　'The　rice！　The　rice！'
　The　French　word　'riz'　that　he　used　was　unknown　to　Hornower；　but　he　stamped　his　foot　on　the　deck　and　pointed　down　rough　it。
　'The　cargo！'　he　said　in　explanation。　'It…it　grows　bigger。'
　Matthews　was　with　them　now；　and　without　knowing　a　word　of　French　he　understood。
　'Didn't　I　hear　this　brig　was　full　of　rice；　sir？'　he　asked。
　'Yes。'
　'That's　it；　then。　The　water's　got　into　it　and　it's　swelling。'
　So　it　would。　Dry　rice　soaked　in　water　would　double　or　treble　its　volume。　The　cargo　was　swelling　and　bursting　the　seams　of　the　ship　open。　Hornblower　remembered　the　unnatural　creaks　and　groans　below。　It　was　a　black　moment；　he　looked　round　at　the　unfriendly　sea　for　inspiration　and　support；　and　found　neither。　Several　seconds　passed　before　he　was　ready　to　speak；　and　ready　to　maintain　the　dignity　of　a　naval　officer　in　face　of　difficulties。
　'The　sooner　we　get　that　sail　over　that　hole　the　better；　then；'　he　said。　It　was　too　much　to　be　expected　that　his　voice　should　sound　quite　natural。　'Hurry　those　Frenchmen　up。'
　He　turned　to　pace　the　deck；　so　as　to　allow　his　feelings　to　subside　and　to　set　his　thoughts　running　in　an　orderly　fashion　again；　but　the　French　captain　was　at　his　elbow；　voluble　as　a　Job's　forter。
　'I　said　I　thought　the　ship　was　riding　heavily；'　he　said。　'She　is　lower　in　the　water。'
　'Go　to　the　devil；'　said　Hornblower；　in　English…he　could　not　think　up　the　French　for　that　phrase。
　Even　as　he　stood　he　felt　a　sudden　sharp　shock　beneath　his　feet；　as　if　someone　had　hit　the　deck　underneath　them　with　a　mallet。　The　ship　was　springing　apart　bit　by　bit。
　'Hurry　with　that　sail！'　he　yelled；　turning　back　to　the　working　party；　and　then　was　angry　with　himself　because　the　tone　of　his　voice　must　have　betrayed　undignified　agitation。
　At　last　an　area　five　feet　square　of　the　sail　was　fothered；　lines　were　rove　through　the　grommets；　and　the　working　party　hurried　forward　to　work　the　sail　under　the　brig　and　drag　it　aft　to　the　hole。　Hornblower　was　taking　off　his　clothes；　not　out　of　regard　for　the　captain's　property　but　so　as　to　keep　them　dry　for　himself。
　'I'll　go　over　and　see　that　it's　in　place；'　he　said。　'Matthews；　get　a　bowline　ready　for　me。'
　Naked　and　wet；　it　seemed　to　him　as　if　the　wind　blew　clear　through　him；　rubbing　against　the　ship's　side　as　she　rolled　he　lost　a　good　deal　of　skin；　and　the　waves　passing　down　the　ship　smacked　at　him　with　a　boisterous　lack　of　consideration。　But　he　saw　the　fothered　sail　placed　against　the　hole；　and　with　intense　satisfaction　he　saw　the　hairy　mass　suck　into　position；　dimpling　over　the　hole　to　form　a　deep　hollow　so　that　he　could　be　sure　that　the　hole　was　plugged　solid。　They　hauled　him　up　again　when　he　hailed；　and　awaited　his　orders；　he　stood　naked；　stupid　with　cold　and　fatigue　and　lack　of　sleep；　struggling　to　form　his　next　decision。
　'Lay　her　on　the　starboard　tack；'　he　said　at　length。
　If　the　brig　were　going　to　sink；　it　hardly　mattered　if　it　were　one　hundred　or　two　hundred　miles　from　the　French　coast；　if　she　were　to　stay　afloat　he　wanted　to　be　well　clear　of　that　lee　shore　and　the　chance　of　recapture。　The　shot　hole　with　its　fothered　sail　would　be　deeper　under　water　to　increase　the　risk；　but　it　seemed　to　be　the　best　chance。　The　French　captain　saw　them　making　preparations　to　wear　the　brig　round；　and　turned　upon　Hornblower　with　voluble　protests。　With　this　wind　they　could　make　Bordeaux　easily　on　the　other　tack。　Hornblower　was　risking　all　their　lives；　he　said。　Into　Hornblower's　numb　mind　crept；　uninvited；　the　translation　of　something　he　had　previously　wanted　to　say。　He　could　use　it　now。
　'Allez　au　diable；'　he　snapped；　as　he　put　the　Frenchman's　stout　woollen　shirt　on　over　his　head。
　When　his　head　emerged　the　Frenchman　was　still　protesting　volubly；　so　violently　indeed　that　a　new　doubt　came　into　Hornblower's　mind。　A　word　to　Matthews　sent　him　round　the　French　prisoners　to　search　for　weapons。　There　was　nothing　to　be　found　except　the　sailors'　knives；　but　as　a　matter　of　precaution　Hornblower　had　them　all　impounded；　and　when　he　had　dressed　he　went　to　special　trouble　with　his　three　pistols；　drawing　the　charges　from　them　and　reloading　and　repriming　afresh。　Three　pistols　in　his　belt　looked　piratical；　as　though　he　were　still　young　enough　to　be　playing　imaginative　games；　but　Hornblower　felt　in　his　bones　that　there　might　be　a　time　when　the　Frenchmen　might　try　to　rise　against　their　captors；　and　three　pistols　would　not　be　too　many　against　twelve　desperate　men　who　had　makeshift　weapons　ready　to　hand；　belaying　pins　and　the　like。
　Matthews　was　awaiting　him　with　a　long　face。
　'Sir；'　he　said；　'begging　your　pardon；　but　I　don't　like　the　looks　of　it。　Straight；　I　don't。　I　don't　like　the　feel　of　her。　She's　settlin'　down　and　she's　opening　up；　I'm　certain　sure。　Beg　your　pardon；　sir；　for　saying　so。'
　Down　below　Hornblower　had　heard　the　fabric　of　the　ship　continuing　to　crack　and　plain；　up　here　the　deck　seams　were　gaping　more　widely。　There　was　a　very　likely　explanation；　the　swelling　of　the　rice　must　have　forced　open　the　ship's　seams　below　water；　so　that　plugging　the　shot…hole　would　have　only　eliminated　what　would　be　by　now　only　a　minor　leak。　Water　must　still　be　pouring　in；　the　cargo　still　swelling；　opening　up　the　ship　like　an　overblown　flower。　Ships　were　built　to　withstand　blows　from　without；　and　there　was　nothing　about　their　construction　to　resist　an　outward　p