csf.thecommodore-第8部分

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he　end　of　the　lane　a　crowd　of　officers　in　full　dress。　As　he　set　his　foot　on　the　deck　the　drums　beat　a　ruffle　in　petition　with　the　bos'un's　calls；　and　then　the　fifes　of　the　band　struck　up　'Heart　of　oak　are　our　ships；　Jolly　tars　are　our　men　…'　With　his　hand　at　the　salute　Hornblower　strode　up　the　lane　of　bos'un's　mates　and　side…boys；　all　this　was　peculiarly　exhilarating　despite　his　efforts　to　tell　himself　that　these　outward　signs　of　the　dignity　of　his　position　were　mere　childish　baubles。　He　had　to　check　himself；　or　his　face　would　have　borne　a　stupid　ecstatic　grin；　it　was　with　difficulty　that　he　forced　himself　to　assume　the　stern　posure　a　modore　should　display。　There　was　Bush　at　the　end　of　the　lane；　saluting　stiffly；　and　standing　effortlessly　despite　his　wooden　leg；　and　it　was　so　pleasant　to　see　Bush　that　he　had　to　fight　down　his　grin　all　over　again。
　〃Good　morning；　Captain　Bush；〃　he　said；　as　gruffly　as　he　knew　how；　and　offering　his　hand　with　all　he　could　manage　of　formal　cordiality。
　〃Good　morning；　sir。〃
　Bush　brought　down　his　hand　from　the　salute　and　grasped　Hornblower's；　trying　hard　to　act　his　part；　as　if　there　was　no　friendship　in　this　handshake　but　mere　professional　esteem。　Hornblower　noted　that　his　hand　was　as　hard　as　ever　…　promotion　to　captain's　rank　had　not　softened　it。　And　try　as　he　would　Bush　could　not　keep　his　face　expressionless。　The　blue　eyes　were　alight　with　pleasure；　and　the　craggy　features　kept　softening　into　a　smile　as　they　escaped　from　his　control。　It　made　it　harder　than　ever　for　Hornblower　to　remain　dignified。
　Out　of　the　tail　of　his　eye　Hornblower　saw　a　seaman　hauling　briskly　at　the　main　signal　halyards。　A　black　ball　was　soaring　up　the　mast；　and　as　it　reached　the　block　a　twitch　of　the　seaman's　wrist　broke　it　out。　It　was　the　modore's　broad　pendant；　hoisted　to　distinguish　the　ship　he　was　in；　and　as　the　pendant　broke　out　a　puff　of　smoke　forward　and　a　loud　bang　marked　the　first　gun　of　the　salute　which　weled　it。　This　was　the　highest；　the　greatest　moment　of　all　…　thousands　upon　thousands　of　naval　officers　could　serve　all　their　lives　and　never　have　a　distinguishing　pendant　hoisted　for　them；　never　hear　a　single　gun　fired　in　their　honour。　Hornblower　could　not　help　smiling　now。　His　last　reserve　was　broken　down；　he　met　Bush's　eye　and　he　laughed　outright；　and　Bush　laughed　with　him。　They　were　like　a　pair　of　schoolboys　exulting　over　a　successful　bit　of　mischief。　It　was　extraordinarily　pleasant　to　be　aware　that　Bush　was　not　only　pleased　at　serving　with　him　again；　but　was　also　pleased　just　because　Hornblower　was　pleased。
　Bush　glanced　over　the　port…side　rail；　and　Hornblower　looked　across　with　him。　There　was　the　rest　of　the　squadron；　the　two　ugly　bomb…ketches；　the　two　big　ship…rigged　sloops；　and　the　graceful　little　cutter。　There　were　puffs　of　smoke　showing　at　the　sides　of　each　of　them；　blown　to　nothingness　almost　instantly　by　the　wind；　and　then　the　boom　of　the　shots　as　each　ship　saluted　the　pendant；　firing　gun　for　gun；　taking　the　time　from　the　modore。　Bush's　eyes　narrowed　as　he　looked　them　over；　observing　whether　everything　was　being　done　decently　and　in　order；　but　his　face　lapsed　into　a　grin　again　as　soon　as　he　was　sure。　The　last　shot　of　the　salute　was　fired；　eleven　rounds　from　each　ship。　It　was　interesting　to　work　out　that　the　mere　ceremony　of　hoisting　his　pendant　had　cost　his　country　fifty　pounds　or　so；　at　a　time　when　she　was　fighting　for　her　life　against　a　tyrant　who　dominated　all　Europe。　The　twitter　of　the　pipes　brought　the　ceremony　to　an　end；　the　ship's　pany　took　up　their　duties　again；　and　the　marines　sloped　arms　and　marched　off；　their　boots　sounding　loud　on　the　deck。
　〃A　happy　moment；　Bush；〃　said　Hornblower。
　〃A　happy　moment　indeed；　sir。〃
　There　were　presentations　to　be　made；　Bush　brought　forward　the　ship's　officers　one　by　one。　At　this　first　sight　one　face　was　like　another；　but　Hornblower　knew　that　in　a　short　period　of　crowded　living　each　individual　would　bee　distinct；　his　peculiarities　known　to　the　limit　of　boredom。
　〃We　shall　e　to　know　each　other　better；　I　hope；　gentlemen；〃　said　Hornblower；　phrasing　his　thought　politely。
　A　whip　at　the　main　yard…arm　was　bringing　up　his　baggage　from　the　lugger；　with　Brown　standing　by　to　supervise　…　he　must　have　e　on　board　by　an　unobtrusive　route；　through　a　gun…port　presumably。　So　the　lugger　and　Barbara　must　still　be　alongside。　Hornblower　walked　to　the　rail　and　peered　over。　True　enough。　And　Barbara　was　standing　just　as　he　had　left　her；　still；　like　a　statue。　But　that　must　have　been　the　last　parcel　swung　up　by　the　ship；　Hornblower　had　hardly　reached　the　side　when　the　lugger　cast　off　from　the　Nonsuch's　chains；　hoisted　her　big　mainsail　and　wheeled　away　as　effortlessly　as　a　gull。
　〃Captain　Bush；〃　said　Hornblower；　〃we　shall　get　under　way　immediately；　if　you　please。　Make　a　signal　to　the　flotilla　to　that　effect。〃
　
　CHAPTER　FIVE
　
　〃I'll　put　the　pistols　in　this　locker；　sir；〃　said　Brown；　pleting　the　unpacking。
　〃Pistols？〃　said　Hornblower。
　Brown　brought　the　case　over　to　him；　he　had　only　mentioned　them　because　he　knew　that　Hornblower　was　not　aware　of　the　pistols'　existence。　It　was　a　beautiful　mahogany　case；　velvet…lined；　the　first　thing　to　catch　the　eye　inside　was　a　white　card。　It　bore　some　words　in　Barbara's　handwriting　…　'To　my　dear　husband。　May　he　never　need　to　use　them；　but　if　he　must　then　may　they　serve　him　well；　and　at　least　may　they　remind　him　of　his　loving　wife；　who　will　pray　every　day　for　his　safety；　for　his　happiness；　and　for　his　success。'　Hornblower　read　the　words　twice　before　he　put　the　card　down　to　examine　the　pistols。　They　were　beautiful　weapons；　of　bright　steel　inlaid　with　silver；　double…barrelled；　the　butts　of　ebony；　giving　them　perfect　balance　in　the　hand。　There　were　two　copper　tubes　in　the　case　to　open　next；　they　merely　contained　pistol　bullets；　each　one　cast　flawlessly；　a　perfect　sphere。　The　fact　that　the　makers　had　gone　to　the　trouble　of　casting　special　bullets　and　including　them　in　the　case　recalled　Hornblower's　attention　to　the　pistols。　Inside　the　barrels　were　bright　spiral　lanes；　they　were　rifled　pistols；　then。　The　next　copper　box　in　the　case　contained　a　number　of　discs　of　thin　leather　impregnated　with　oil；　these　would　be　for　wrapping　up　the　bullet　before　inserting　it　into　the　barrel；　so　as　to　ensure　a　perfect　fit。　The　brass　rod　and　the　little　brass　mallet　would　be　for　hammering　the　bullets　home。　The　little　brass　cup　must　be　a　measure　of　the　powder　charge。　It　was　small；　but　that　was　the　way　to　ensure　accuracy　…　a　small　powder　charge；　a　heavy　ball；　and　a　true　barrel。　With　these　pistols　he　could　rely　on　himself　to　hit　a　small　bull's…eye　at　fifty　yards；　as　long　as　he　held　true。
　But　there　was　one　more　copper　box　to　open。　It　was　full　of　little　square　bits　of　copper　sheet；　very　thin　indeed。　He　was　puzzled　at　the　sight　of　them；　each　bit　of　copper　had　a　bulge　in　the　centre；　where　the　metal　was　especially　thin；　making　the　black　contents　just　visible　through　it。　It　dawned　slowly　upon　Hornblower　that　these　must　be　the　percussion　caps　he　had　heard　vaguely　about　recently。　To　prove　it　he　laid　one　on　his　desk　and　tapped　it　sharply　with　the　brass　mallet。　There　was　a　sharp　crack；　a　puff　of　smoke　from　under　the　mallet；　and　when　he　lifted　up　the　latter　he　could　see　that　the　cap　was　rent　open；　and　the　desk　was　marked　with　the　stain　of　the　explosion。
　He　looked　at　the　pistols　again。　He　must　have　been　blind；　not　to　have　noticed　the　absence　of　flint　and　priming　pan。　The　hammer　rested　on　what　appeared　at　first　sight　to　be　a　simple　block　of　metal；　but　this　pivoted　at　a　touch；　revealing　a　shallow　cavity　below　it　clearly　intended　to　receive　a　cap。　At　the　base　of　the　cavity　was　a　small　hole　which　must　municate　with　the　breech　end　of　the　barrel。　Put　a　charge　in　the　pistol；　put　a　cap　in　the　cavity；　and　fix　it　firm　with　the　metal　block。　Now　snap　the　hammer　down　upon　the　block。　The　cap　explodes；　the　flame　passes　through　the　hole　into　the　charge　and　the　pistol　is　fired。　No　haphazard　arrangement　of　flint　and　priming：　rain　or　spray　could　never　put　these　pistols　out　of　action。　Hornblower　guessed　there　would　not　be　a　misfire　once　in　a　hundred　shots。　It　was　a　wonderful　present　…　it　was　very　thoughtful　indeed　of　Barbara　to　buy　them　for　him；　Heaven　only　knew　what　they　must　have　cost；　some　skilled　workman　must　have　laboured　for　months　over　the　rifling　of　those　four　barrels；　and　the　copper　caps　…　five　hundred　of　them；　every　one　hand…made　…　must　have　cost　a　pretty　penny　of　themselves。　But　with　those　two　pistols　loaded　he　would　have　four　men's　lives　in　his　hands；　on　a　fine　day　with　two　flint…lock　double…barrelled　pistols　he　would　expect　one　misfire；　if　not　two；　and　if　it　were　raining　or　there　was　spray　flying　it　would　be　remarkable　if　he　could　fire　a　single　shot。　To　Hornblower's　mind　the　rifling　was　not　as　important　as　the　percussion　caps；　in　the　usual　ship…board　scuffle　when　pistols　were　likely　to　be　used　accuracy　was　not　important；　for　one　generally　pressed　the　muzzle　against　one's　adversary's　stomach　before　pulling　the　trigger。
　Hornblower　laid　the　pistols　in　their　velvet　nests　and　mused　on。　Dear　Barbara。　She　was　always　thinking　for　him；　trying　to　anticipate　his　wants；　but　something　more　than　that　as　well。　These　pistols　were　an　example　of　the　way　she　tried　to　satisfy　wants　of　his　that