csf.thecommodore-第54部分

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re　already　safely　out　of　range。　Essen's　hand　on　his　shoulder　swung　him　round。
　〃See　there；　modore！〃　said　Essen。
　Hornblower's　glass　revealed　to　him　in　a　flash　the　thing　to　which　Essen　had　wanted　to　call　his　attention。　Isolated　infantrymen　from　the　besiegers　were　ranging　over　no…man's…land　on　their　way　back　to　their　own　trenches　and　…　Hornblower　saw　it　done　…　they　bayoneted　the　Russian　wounded　who　lay　heaped　in　their　path。　Perhaps　it　was　only　to　be　expected；　in　this　long　and　bloody　siege；　that　bitterness　and　ferocity　should　be　engendered　on　this　scale；　especially　among　Bonaparte's　hordes　who　had　wandered　over　Europe　for　years　now；　since　boyhood；　living　on　what　they　could　gather　from　the　countryside　with　the　musket　and　bayonet　as　the　only　court　of　appeal。　Essen　was　white　with　anger；　and　Hornblower　tried　to　share　his　rage；　but　he　found　it　difficult。　That　kind　of　atrocity　was　what　he　had　e　to　expect。　He　was　perfectly　prepared　to　go　on　killing　Bonaparte's　soldiers　and　sailors；　but　he　would　not　flatter　himself　that　he　was　executing　justice　by　killing　one　man　because　some　other　man　had　murdered　his　wounded　allies。
　Down　in　the　shattered　remains　of　the　village；　as　he　walked　along　the　trenches；　those　of　the　wounded　who　had　been　fortunate　enough　to　drag　themselves　back　were　receiving　treatment。　Shuddering；　Hornblower　told　himself　that　perhaps　those　who　had　been　bayoneted　in　no…man's…land　were　the　lucky　ones。　He　pushed　past　ranks　of　smoke…blackened　and　ragged　Russian　soldiers；　talking　with　the　noisy　abandon　of　men　who　have　just　emerged　from　a　hard…won　victory。
　
　CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO
　
　Among　the　mass　of　long…delayed　mail　from　England　were　great　packets　of　printed　pamphlets；　in　French　and　in　German；　a　few　even　in　Dutch　and　in　Danish。　They　were　appeals　to　Bonaparte's　forces　to　desert　his　standard　…　not　suggestions　for　mass　desertions；　but　intended　for　the　individual　soldier；　telling　him　that　he　could　be　sure　of　a　wele　if　he　were　to　e　over。　They　denied　the　statements　that　Bonaparte　was　continually　making　in　his　proclamations；　to　the　effect　that　England　confined　her　prisoners　in　floating　hells　of　hulks；　and　that　deserters　were　forced　by　ill…treatment　to　take　service　in　England's　mercenary　regiments。　They　offered　a　life　of　ease　and　security；　with　the　honourable　alternative；　only　if　requested；　of　enlistment　in　the　British　forces；　to　those　who　wished　to　strike　a　blow　against　the　tyrant。　The　French　pamphlet　was　certainly　well　written；　and　presumably　the　others　were　too；　maybe　Canning；　or　that　fellow　…　what　was　his　name；　now？　…　Hookham　Frere；　had　had　a　hand　in　posing　them。
　The　letter　that　acpanied　the　pamphlets；　charging　him　to　do　his　utmost　to　get　them　into　the　hands　of　Bonaparte's　forces；　had　an　interesting　enclosure　…　a　copy　of　a　letter　from　Bonaparte　to　Marmont；　intercepted　presumably　somewhere　in　Spain；　in　which　the　Emperor　raged　against　this　new　evidence　of　British　falseness　and　perfidy。　He　had　seen　some　of　the　first　pamphlets；　apparently；　and　they　had　touched　him　on　a　sore　spot。　Judging　by　the　wording　of　his　letter；　he　was　driven　quite　frantic　at　this　attempt　to　seduce　his　men　from　their　allegiance。　If　the　violence　of　the　Imperial　reaction　was　any　guide；　then　this　method　of　warfare　was　likely　to　be　effective。　The　usually　well…fed　and　well…cared…for　Prussians　under　Macdonald's　mand　were　on　meagre　rations　now　that　the　country　round　had　been　stripped　bare　by　foragers；　an　offer　of　a　life　of　well…fed　ease　bined　with　an　appeal　to　their　patriotism　might　bring　in　deserters　in　plenty。　Hornblower　mapped　out　in　his　mind　a　formal　letter　to　the　Governor　in　which　he　would　suggest　that　a　few　pedlars　be　sent　into　the　French　camp　ostensibly　to　sell　luxuries　but　really　to　distribute　these　pamphlets。　Here　where　Bonaparte's　men　were　suffering　real　hardship　and　meeting　with　small　success　the　appeal　might　carry　more　weight　than　with　Bonaparte's　main　army　in　Moscow；　Hornblower　was　inclined　to　distrust　the　flamboyant　Russian　bulletin　about　the　burning　of　Moscow；　and　Alexander's　fervent　public　declaration　that　he　would　never　make　peace　while　a　Frenchman　was　on　Russian　soil。　In　Hornblower's　opinion　French　morale　was　likely　to　be　still　high　enough；　and　Bonaparte's　strength　still　great　enough；　to　force　peace　at　the　bayonet's　point　from　Russia　in　the　Russian　capital；　be　the　destruction　of　Moscow　never　so　great　…　even　as　great　as　Moscow　said　it　was。
　Someone　knocked　at　the　door。
　〃e　in；〃　bellowed　Hornblower；　irritated　at　the　interruption；　for　he　had　intended　to　spend　all　day　catching　up　on　his　arrears　of　paper　work。
　〃A　letter　from　the　beach；　sir；〃　said　the　midshipman　of　the　watch。
　It　was　a　brief　note　from　the　Governor　with　its　point　pressed　into　a　single　sentence　…
　
　I　have　some　new　arrivals　in　the　city　who　I　think　will　interest　you　if　you　can　spare　the　time　for　a　visit。
　
　Hornblower　sighed；　his　report　to　London　would　never　be　finished；　apparently；　but　he　could　not　ignore　this　invitation。
　〃Call　away　my　barge；〃　he　said　to　the　midshipman；　and　turned　to　lock　his　desk。
　God　knew　who　these　'new　arrivals'　would　be。　These　Russians　were　sometimes　so　portentously　mysterious　about　trifles。　It　might　be　a　fool's　errand；　but　on　the　other　hand　he　must　find　out　what　this　new　development　was　before　sending　off　his　despatch　to　England。　As　his　barge　danced　over　the　water　he　looked　over　at　the　siege…lines；　the　battering　guns　were　still　volleying　away　…　he　had　grown　so　used　to　the　noise　that　he　only　noticed　it　when　his　attention　was　called　to　it　…　and　the　usual　long　pall　of　smoke　lay　over　the　flat　country　there。
　Then　the　boat　entered　the　mouth　of　the　river　and　Daugavgriva's　ruins　were　hidden　from　view　save　for　the　dome　of　the　church　where　he　had　so　often　stood。　Riga　came　steadily　nearer　and　nearer；　and　they　had　to　keep　close　to　the　bank　to　avoid　the　worst　of　the　Dwina's　rapid　current；　until　at　last　the　oars　ceased　and　the　barge　slid　against　the　steps　of　the　river…wall。　At　the　head　of　them　waited　the　Governor　with　his　staff　and　a　spare　horse　for　Hornblower。
　〃It　is　only　a　short　ride；〃　said　Essen；　〃and　one　I　think　you　will　consider　worth　the　making。〃
　Hornblower　climbed　on　to　his　horse；　with　a　nod　of　thanks　to　the　groom　who　held　its　head；　and　then　they　all　wheeled　and　dashed　away　through　the　clattering　streets。　A　postern　was　opened　for　them　in　the　eastern　fortifications　…　so　far　no　enemy　had　shown　his　face　on　this　bank　of　the　Dwina　…　and　they　rode　out　over　a　drawbridge　spanning　the　ditch。　On　the　glacis　beyond　the　ditch　was　a　large　force　of　soldiers；　squatting　and　lying　in　rank；　as　soon　as　the　cavalcade　appeared　they　came　hastily　to　their　feet；　dressed　their　lines；　and　then；　in　obedience　to　a　shrill　chorus　of　bugles；　presented　arms；　their　regimental　colours　fluttering　in　the　little　breeze。　Essen　reined　up；　returning　the　salute。
　〃Well；　what　do　you　think　of　them；　sir？〃　he　asked　Hornblower　with　a　chuckle。
　They　were　ragged　soldiers　…　bare　skin　showed　frequently　in　the　ranks　through　holes　in　the　blue　or　dirty　grey　uniforms。　They　were　shambling；　unsoldierly　soldiers；　too；　any　troops　who　had　seen　hard　service　might　be　ragged；　but　Hornblower；　looking　along　the　ranks；　had　the　impression　of　voluntary　dirt　and　disorder。　Essen　was　still　chuckling；　and　Hornblower　looked　the　harder　to　find　the　reason　for　this　mirth。　Essen　would　not　have　brought　him　out　here　just　to　see　ragged　soldiers　…　Hornblower　had　seen　enough　of　those　in　the　past　three　months　to　last　him　the　rest　of　his　life。　There　were　several　thousand　men；　a　strong　brigade　or　a　weak　division；　Hornblower　glanced　at　the　regimental　standards　to　ascertain　the　number　of　units　present；　and　then　he　nearly　lost　his　precarious　seat　with　surprise。　Those　flags　were　red　and　yellow；　the　national　colours　of　Spain；　and　the　moment　this　dawned　upon　him　he　realized　that　the　ragged　uniforms　were　the　remains　of　the　Bourbon　white　and　blue　he　had　e　so　much　to　hate　ten　years　ago　during　his　captivity　at　Ferrol。　Not　only　that；　but　on　the　left　of　the　line　there　was　a　single　standard　of　silver　and　blue　…　the　Portuguese　flag；　held　aloft　before　a　single　shrunken　battalion　of　scarecrows。
　〃I　thought　you　would　be　surprised；　sir；〃　said　Essen；　still　chuckling。
　〃Who　are　these　men？〃　asked　Hornblower。
　〃Some　of　Bonaparte's　willing　allies；〃　replied　Essen；　ironically。　〃They　were　in　St　Cyr's　Corps　at　Polotsk。　One　day　they　found　themselves　on　the　very　fringe　of　the　outpost　line；　and　fought　their　way　down　the　river　to　join　us。　e　and　meet　their　general。〃
　He　urged　his　horse　forward；　and　he　and　Hornblower　cantered　up　to　where　a　ragged　officer　sat　a　bony　white　horse　at　the　head　of　an　even　worse…mounted　staff。
　〃I　have　the　honour　to　present；〃　said　Essen；　formally；　〃His　Excellency　the　Conde　de　los　Altos　…　His　Excellency　modore　Sir　Horatio　Hornblower。〃
　The　Conde　saluted；　it　took　Hornblower　a　few　moments　to　make　himself　think　in　Spanish　…　the　last　time　he　had　used　that　language　was　during　the　abortive　attack　on　Rosas；　two　years　ago。
　〃It　is　highly　gratifying　to　meet　Your　Excellency；〃　he　said。
　The　Conde's　expression　revealed　his　startled　pleasure　at　being　addressed　in　his　own　tongue；　and　he　replied　rapidly。
　〃You　are　the　English　Admiral；　sir？〃
　Hornblower　did　not　see　fit　to　enter　into　explanations　regarding　the　difference　between　an