csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第51部分

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eight。
　'Let　us　go；'　said　Hornblower；　but　the　steersman　needed　no　telling。
　Already　he　had　allowed　the　wind　to　drift　the　boat　away　from　the　wreck；　away　from　the　rocks…away　from　the　shore。　An　occasional　strong　pull　at　the　oars　sufficed　to　keep　her　bows　to　wind　and　wave。　Hornblower　looked　down　at　the　fainting　survivors　lying　in　the　bottom　of　the　boat　with　the　water　washing　over　them。　He　bent　down　and　shook　them　into　consciousness；　he　picked　up　the　balers　and　forced　them　into　their　numb　hands。　They　must　keep　active　or　die。　It　was　astounding　to　find　darkness　closing　about　them；　and　it　was　urgent　that　they　should　decide　on　their　next　move　immediately。　The　men　at　the　oars　were　in　no　shape　for　any　prolonged　further　rowing；　if　they　tried　to　return　to　the　sandy　cove　whence　they　had　started　they　might　be　overtaken　both　by　night　and　by　exhaustion　while　still　among　the　treacherous　rocks　off　the　shore　there。　Hornblower　sat　down　beside　the　Galician　captain；　who　laconically　gave　his　views　while　vigilantly　observing　the　waves　racing　down　upon　them。
　'It's　growing　dark；'　said　the　captain；　glancing　round　the　sky。　'Rocks。　The　men　are　tired。'
　'We　had　better　not　go　back；'　said　Hornblower。
　'No。'
　'Then　we　must　get　out　to　sea。'
　Years　of　duty　on　blockade；　of　beating　about　off　a　lee　shore；　had　ingrained　into　Hornblower　the　necessity　for　seeking　searoom。
　'Yes；'　said　the　captain；　and　he　added　something　which　Hornblower；　thanks　to　the　wind　and　his　unfamiliarity　with　the　language；　was　unable　to　catch。　The　captain　roared　the　expression　again；　and　acpanied　his　words　with　a　vivid　bit　of　pantomime　with　the　one　hand　he　could　spare　from　the　steering　oar。
　'A　sea　anchor；'　decided　Hornblower　to　himself。　'Quite　right。'
　He　looked　back　at　the　vanishing　shore；　and　gauged　the　direction　of　the　wind。　It　seemed　to　be　backing　a　little　southerly；　the　coast　here　trended　away　from　them。　They　could　ride　to　a　sea　anchor　through　the　hours　of　darkness　and　run　no　risk　of　being　cast　ashore　as　long　as　these　conditions　persisted。
　'Good；'　said　Hornblower　aloud。
　He　imitated　the　other's　bit　of　pantomime　and　the　captain　gave　him　a　glance　of　approval。　At　a　bellow　from　him　the　two　men　forward　took　in　their　oars　and　set　to　work　at　constructing　a　sea　anchor…merely　a　pair　of　oars　attached　to　a　long　painter　paid　out　over　the　bows。　With　this　gale　blowing　the　pressure　of　the　wind　on　the　boat　set　up　enough　drag　on　the　float　to　keep　their　bows　to　the　sea。　Hornblower　watched　as　the　sea　anchor　began　to　take　hold　of　the　water。
　'Good；'　he　said　again。
　'Good；'　said　the　captain；　taking　in　his　steering　oar。
　Hornblower　realized　only　now　that　he　had　been　long　exposed　to　a　winter　gale　while　wet　to　the　skin。　He　was　numb　with　cold；　and　he　was　shivering　uncontrollably。　At　his　feet　one　of　the　three　survivors　of　the　wreck　was　lying　helpless；　the　other　two　had　succeeded　in　baling　out　most　of　the　water　and　as　a　result　of　their　exertions　were　conscious　and　alert。　The　men　who　had　been　rowing　sat　drooping　with　weariness　on　their　thwarts。　The　Galician　captain　was　already　down　in　the　bottom　of　the　boat　lifting　the　helpless　man　in　his　arms。　It　was　a　mon　impulse　of　them　all　to　huddle　down　into　the　bottom　of　the　boat；　beneath　the　thwarts；　away　from　that　shrieking　wind。
　So　the　night　came　down　on　them。　Hornblower　found　himself　weling　the　contact　of　other　human　bodies；　he　felt　an　arm　round　him　and　he　put　his　arm　round　someone　else。　Around　them　a　little　water　still　surged　about　on　the　floorboards；　above　them　the　wind　still　shrieked　and　howled。　The　boat　stood　first　on　her　head　and　then　on　her　tail　as　the　waves　passed　under　them；　and　at　the　moment　of　climbing　each　crest　she　gave　a　shuddering　jerk　as　she　snubbed　herself　to　the　sea　anchor。　Every　few　seconds　a　new　spat　of　spray　whirled　into　the　boat　upon　their　shrinking　bodies；　it　did　not　seem　long　before　the　accumulation　of　spray　in　the　bottom　of　the　boat　made　it　necessary　for　them　to　disentangle　themselves；　and　set　about；　groping　in　the　darkness；　the　task　of　baling　the　water　out　again。　Then　they　could　huddle　down　again　under　the　thwarts。
　It　was　when　they　pulled　themselves　together　for　the　third　baling　that　in　the　middle　of　his　nightmare　of　cold　and　exhaustion　Hornblower　was　conscious　that　the　body　across　which　his　arm　lay　was　unnaturally　stiff；　the　man　the　captain　had　been　trying　to　revive　had　died　as　he　lay　there　between　the　captain　and　Hornblower。　The　captain　dragged　the　body　away　into　the　sternsheets　in　the　darkness；　and　the　night　went　on；　cold　wind　and　cold　spray；　jerk；　pitch；　and　roll；　sit　up　and　bale　and　cower　down　and　shudder。　It　was　hideous　torment；　Hornblower　could　not　trust　himself　to　believe　his　eyes　when　he　saw　the　first　signs　that　the　darkness　was　lessening。　And　then　the　grey　dawn　came　gradually　over　the　grey　sea；　and　they　were　free　to　wonder　what　to　do　next。　But　as　the　light　increased　the　problem　was　solved　for　them；　for　one　of　the　fishermen；　raising　himself　up　in　the　boat；　gave　a　hoarse　cry；　and　pointed　to　the　northern　horizon；　and　there；　almost　hull…up；　was　a　ship；　hove…to　under　storm　canvas。　The　captain　took　one　glance　at　her…his　eyesight　must　have　been　marvellous…and　identified　her。
　'The　English　frigate；'　he　said。
　She　must　have　made　nearly　the　same　amount　of　leeway　hove…to　as　the　boat　did　riding　to　her　sea　anchor。
　'Signal　to　her；'　said　Hornblower；　and　no　one　raised　any　objections。
　The　only　white　object　available　was　Hornblower's　shirt；　and　he　took　it　off；　shuddering　in　the　cold；　and　they　tied　it　to　an　oar　and　raised　the　oar　in　the　maststep。　The　captain　saw　Hornblower　putting　on　his　dripping　coat　over　his　bare　ribs　and　in　a　single　movement　peeled　off　his　thick　blue　jersey　and　offered　it　to　him。
　'Thank　you；　no；'　protested　Hornblower；　but　the　captain　insisted；　with　a　wide　grin　he　pointed　to　the　stiffened　corpse　lying　in　the　sternsheets　and　announced　he　would　replace　the　jersey　with　the　dead　man's　clothing。
　The　argument　was　interrupted　by　a　further　cry　from　one　of　the　fishermen。　The　frigate　was　ing　to　the　wind；　with　treble…reefed　fore　and　maintopsails　she　was　heading　for　them　under　the　impulse　of　the　lessening　gale。　Hornblower　saw　her　running　down　on　them；　a　glance　in　the　other　direction　showed　him　the　Galician　mountains；　faint　on　the　southern　horizon…warmth；　freedom　and　friendship　on　the　one　hand；　solitude　and　captivity　on　the　other。　Under　the　lee　of　the　frigate　the　boat　bobbed　and　heaved　fantastically；　many　inquisitive　faces　looked　down　on　them。　They　were　cold　and　cramped；　the　frigate　dropped　a　boat　and　a　couple　of　nimble　seamen　scrambled　on　board。　A　line　was　flung　from　the　frigate；　a　whip　lowered　a　breeches　ring　into　the　boat；　and　the　English　seamen　helped　the　Spaniards　one　by　one　into　the　breeches　and　held　them　steady　as　they　were　swung　up　to　the　frigate's　deck。
　'I　go　last；'　said　Hornblower　when　they　turned　to　him。　'I　am　a　King's　officer。'
　'Good　Lor'　lumme；'　said　the　seamen。
　'Send　the　body　up；　too；'　said　Hornblower。　'It　can　be　given　decent　burial。'
　The　stiff　corpse　was　grotesque　as　it　swayed　through　the　air。　The　Galician　captain　tried　to　dispute　with　Hornblower　the　honour　of　going　last；　but　Hornblower　would　not　be　argued　with。　Then　finally　the　seamen　helped　him　put　his　legs　into　the　breeches；　and　secured　him　with　a　line　round　his　waist。　Up　he　soared；　swaying　dizzily　with　the　roll　of　the　ship；　then　they　drew　him　in　to　the　deck；　lowering　and　shortening；　until　half　a　dozen　strong　arms　took　his　weight　and　laid　him　gently　on　the　deck。
　'There　you　are；　my　hearty；　safe　and　sound；'　said　a　bearded　seaman。
　'I　am　a　King's　officer；'　said　Hornblower。　'Where's　the　officer　of　the　watch？'
　Wearing　marvellous　dry　clothing；　Hornblower　found　himself　soon　drinking　hot　rum…and…water　in　the　cabin　of　Captain　George　Crome；　of　His　Majesty's　frigate　Syrtis。　Crome　was　a　thin　pale　man　with　a　depressed　expression；　but　Hornblower　knew　of　him　as　a　first…rate　officer。
　'These　Galicians　make　good　seamen；'　said　Crome。　'I　can't　press　them。　But　perhaps　a　few　will　volunteer　sooner　than　go　to　a　prison　hulk。'
　'Sir；'　said　Hornblower；　and　hesitated。　It　is　ill　for　a　junior　lieutenant　to　argue　with　a　post　captain。
　'Well？'
　'Those　men　came　to　sea　to　save　life。　They　are　not　liable　to　capture。'
　Crome's　cold　grey　eyes　became　actively　frosty…Hornblower　was　right　about　it　being　ill　for　a　junior　lieutenant　to　argue　with　a　post　captain。
　'Are　you　telling　me　my　duty；　sir？'　he　asked。
　'Good　heavens　no；　sir；'　said　Hornblower　hastily。　'It's　a　long　time　since　I　read　the　Admiralty　Instructions　and　I　expect　my　memory's　at　fault。'
　'Admiralty　Instructions；　eh？'　said　Crome；　in　a　slightly　different　tone　of　voice。
　'I　expect　I'm　wrong；　sir；'　said　Hornblower；　'but　I　seem　to　remember　the　same　instruction　applied　to　the　other　two…the　survivors。'
　Even　a　post　captain　could　only　contravene　Admiralty　Instructions　at　his　peril。
　'I'll　consider　it；'　said　Crome。
　'I　had　the　dead　man　sent　on　board；　sir；'　went　on　Hornblower；　'in　the　hope　that　perhaps　you　might　give　him　proper　burial。　Those　Galicians　risked　their　lives　to　save　him；　sir；　and　I　expect　they'd　be　gratified。''
　'A　Popish　burial？　I'll　give　orders　to　give　'em　a　free　hand。'
　'Thank　you；　sir；'　said　Hornblower。
　'And　now　as　regards　yourself。　You　say　you　hold　a　mission　as　lie