csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第14部分

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ts　sat　Midshipman　Horatio　Hornblower　and　the　four　English　seamen　who　had　once　constituted　the　prize…crew　of　the　brig。　Hornblower　was　seasick；　for　his　delicate　stomach；　having　painfully　accustomed　itself　to　the　motion　of　the　Indefatigable；　rebelled　at　the　antics　of　the　small　boat　as　she　pitched　jerkily　to　her　sea…anchor。　He　was　cold　and　weary　as　well　as　seasick　after　his　second　night　without　sleep…he　had　been　vomiting　spasmodically　all　through　the　hours　of　darkness；　and　in　the　depression　which　seasickness　brings　he　had　thought　gloomily　about　the　loss　of　the　Marie　Galante。　If　he　had　only　remembered　earlier　to　plug　that　shot…hole！　Excuses　came　to　his　mind　only　to　be　discarded。　There　had　been　so　much　to　do；　and　so　few　men　to　do　it　with…the　French　crew　to　guard；　the　damage　aloft　to　repair；　the　course　to　set。　The　absorbent　qualities　of　the　cargo　of　　rice　which　the　Marie　Galante　carried　had　deceived　him　when　he　had　remembered　to　sound　the　well。　All　this　might　be　true；　but　the　fact　remained　that　he　had　lost　his　ship；　his　first　mand。　In　his　own　eyes　there　was　no　excuse　for　his　failure。
　The　French　crew　had　wakened　with　the　dawn　and　were　chattering　like　a　nest　of　magpies；　Matthews　and　Carson　beside　him　were　moving　stiffly　to　ease　their　aching　joints。
　'Breakfast；　sir？'　said　Matthews。
　It　was　like　the　games　Hornblower　had　played　as　a　lonely　little　boy；　when　he　had　sat　in　the　empty　pig…trough　and　pretended　he　was　cast　away　in　an　open　boat。　Then　he　had　parcelled　out　the　bit　of　bread　or　whatever　it　was　which　he　had　obtained　from　the　kitchen　into　a　dozen　rations；　counting　them　carefully；　each　one　to　last　a　day。　But　a　small　boy's　eager　appetite　had　made　those　days　very　short；　not　more　than　five　minutes　long；　after　standing　up　in　the　pig…trough　and　shading　his　eyes　and　looking　round　the　horizon　for　the　succour　that　he　could　not　discover；　he　would　sit　down　again；　tell　himself　that　the　life　of　a　castaway　was　hard；　and　then　decide　that　another　night　had　passed　and　that　it。　was　time　to　eat　another　ration　from　his　dwindling　supply。　So　here　under　Hornblower's　eye　the　French　captain　and　mate　served　out　a　biscuit　of　hard　bread　to　each　person　in　the　boat；　and　filled　the　pannikin　for　each　man　in　turn　from　the　water　breakers　under　the　thwarts。　But　Hornblower　when　he　sat　in　the　pig…trough；　despite　his　vivid　imagination；　never　thought　of　this　hideous　seasickness；　of　the　cold　and　the　cramps；　nor　of　how　his　skinny　posterior　would　ache　with　its　constant　pressure　against　the　hard　timbers　of　the　sternsheets；　nor；　in　the　sublime　self…confidence　of　childhood；　had　he　ever　thought　how　heavy　could　be　the　burden　of　responsibility　on　the　shoulders　of　a　senior　naval　officer　aged　seventeen。
　He　dragged　himself　back　from　the　memories　of　that　recent　childhood　to　face　the　present　situation。　The　grey　sky；　as　far　as　his　inexperienced　eye　could　tell；　bore　no　presage　of　deterioration　in　the　weather。　He　wetted　his　finger　and　held　it　up；　looking　in　the　boat's　pass　to　gauge　the　direction　of　the　wind。
　'Backing　westerly　a　little；　sir；'　said　Matthews；　who　had　been　copying　his　movements。
　'That's　so；'　agreed　Hornblower；　hurriedly　going　through　in　his　mind　his　recent　lessons　in　boxing　the　pass。　His　course　to　weather　Ushant　was　nor'…east　by　north；　he　knew；　and　the　boat　close　hauled　would　not　lie　closer　than　eight　points　off　the　wind…he　had　lain…to　to　the　sea…anchor　all　night　because　the　wind　had　been　ing　from　too　far　north　to　enable　him　to　steer　for　England。　But　now　the　wind　had　backed。　Eight　points　from　nor'…east　by　north　was　nor'…west　by　west；　and　the　wind　was　even　more　westerly　than　that。　Close　hauled　he　could　weather　Ushant　and　even　have　a　margin　for　contingencies；　to　keep　him　clear　of　the　lee　shore；　which　the　seamanship　books　and　his　own　mon　sense　told　him　was　so　dangerous。
　'We'll　make　sail；　Matthews；'　he　said；　his　hand　was　still　grasping　the　biscuit　which　his　rebellious　stomach　refused　to　accept。
　'Aye　aye；　sir。'
　A　shout　to　the　Frenchmen　crowded　in　the　bows　drew　their　attention；　in　the　circumstances　it　hardly　needed　Hornblower's　halting　French　to　direct　them　to　carry　out　the　obvious　task　of　getting　in　the　sea…anchor。　But　it　was　not　too　easy；　with　the　boat　so　crowded　and　hardly　a　foot　of　freeboard。　The　mast　was　already　stepped；　and　the　lug　sail　bent　ready　to　hoist。　Two　Frenchmen；　balancing　precariously；　tailed　onto　the　halliard　and　the　sail　rose　up　the　mast。
　'Hunter；　take　the　sheet；'　said　Hornblower。　'Matthews；　take　the　tiller。　Keep　her　close　hauled　on　the　port　tack。'
　'Close　hauled　on　the　port　tack；　sir。'
　The　French　captain　had　watched　the　proceedings　with　intense　interest　from　his　seat　amidships。　He　had　not　understood　the　last；　decisive　order；　but　he　grasped　its　meaning　quickly　enough　when　the　boat　came　round　and　steadied　on　the　port　tack；　heading　for　England。　He　stood　up；　spluttering　angry　protests。
　'The　wind　is　fair　for　Bordeaux；'　he　said；　gesticulating　with　clenched　fists。　'We　could　be　there　by　to…morrow。　Why　do　we　go　north？'
　'We　go　to　England；'　said　Hornblower。
　'But…but…it　will　take　us　a　week！　A　week　even　if　the　wind　stays　fair。　This　boat…it　is　too　crowded。　We　cannot　endure　a　storm。　It　is　madness。'
　Hornblower　had　guessed　at　the　moment　the　captain　stood　up　what　he　was　going　to　say；　and　he　hardly　bothered　to　translate　the　expostulations　to　himself。　He　was　too　tired　and　too　seasick　to　enter　into　an　argument　in　a　foreign　language。　He　ignored　the　captain。　Not　for　anything　on　earth　would　he　turn　the　boat's　head　towards　France。　His　naval　career　had　only　just　begun；　and　even　if　it　were　to　be　blighted　on　account　of　the　loss　of　the　Marie　Galante　he　had　no　intention　of　rotting　for　years　in　a　French　prison。
　'Sir！'　said　the　French　captain。
　The　mate　who　shared　the　captain's　thwart　was　protesting　too；　and　now　they　turned　to　their　crew　behind　them　and　told　them　what　was　going　on。　An　angry　movement　stirred　the　crowd。
　'Sir！'　said　the　captain　again。　'I　insist　that　you　head　towards　Bordeaux。'
　He　showed　signs　of　advancing　upon　them；　one　of　the　crew　behind　him　began　to　pull　the　boat…hook　clear；　and　it　would　be　a　dangerous　weapon。　Hornblower　pulled　one　of　the　pistols　from　his　belt　and　pointed　it　at　the　captain；　who；　with　the　muzzle　four　feet　from　his　breast；　fell　back　before　the　gesture。　Without　taking　his　eyes　off　him　Hornblower　took　a　second　pistol　with　his　left　hand。
　'Take　this；　Matthews；'　he　said。
　'Aye　aye；　sir；'　said　Matthews；　obeying；　and　then；　after　a　respectful　pause；　'Beggin'　your　pardon；　sir；　but　hadn't　you　better　cock　your　pistol；　sir？'
　'Yes；'　said　Hornblower；　exasperated　at　his　own　forgetfulness。
　He　drew　the　hammer　back　with　a　click；　and　the　menacing　sound　made　more　acute　still　the　French　captain's　sense　of　his　own　danger；　with　a　cocked　and　loaded　pistol　pointed　at　his　stomach　in　a　heaving　boat。　He　waved　his　hands　desperately。
　'Please；'　he　said；　'point　it　some　other　way；　sir。'
　He　drew　farther　back；　huddling　against　the　men　behind　him。
　'Hey；　avast　there；　you；'　shouted　Matthews　loudly…a　French　sailor　was　trying　to　let　go　the　halliard　unobserved。
　'Shoot　any　man　who　looks　dangerous；　Matthews；'　said　Hornblower。
　He　was　so　intent　on　enforcing　his　will　upon　these　men；　so　desperately　anxious　to　retain　his　liberty；　that　his　face　was　contracted　into　a　beast…like　scowl。　No　one　looking　at　him　could　doubt　his　determination　for　a　moment。　He　would　allow　no　human　life　to　e　between　him　and　his　decisions。　There　was　still　a　third　pistol　in　his　belt；　and　the　Frenchmen　could　guess　that　if　they　tried　a　rush　a　quarter　of　them　at　least　would　meet　their　deaths　before　they　overpowered　the　Englishmen；　and　the　French　captain　knew　he　would　be　the　first　to　die。　His　expressive　hands；　waving　out　from　his　sides…he　could　not　take　his　eyes　from　the　pistol…told　his　men　to　make　no　further　resistance。　Their　murmurings　died　away；　and　the　captain　began　to　plead。
　'Five　years　I　was　in　an　English　prison　during　the　last　war；'　he　said。　'Let　us　reach　an　agreement。　Let　us　go　to　France。　When　we　reach　the　shore…anywhere　you　choose；　sir…we　will　land　and　you　can　continue　on　your　journey。　Or　we　can　all　land；　and　I　will　use　all　my　influence　to　have　you　and　your　men　sent　back　to　England　under　cartel；　without　exchange　or　ransom。　I　swear　I　will。'
　'No；'　said　Hornblo