csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第33章

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ow　slope　to　the　right　appeared　a　line　of　plumes；　a　line　of　sabres…a　regiment　of　cavalry　trotting　rapidly　forward。　Hornblower　saw　the　sabres　lifted；　saw　the　horses　break　into　a　gallop；　heard　the　yells　of　the　charging　men。　The　redcoats　around　him　halted；　another　shouted　order；　another　slow；　deliberate　movement；　and　the　half…battalion　was　in　a　square　with　the　mounted　officers　in　the　centre　and　the　colours　waving　over　their　heads。　The　charging　horsemen　were　less　than　a　hundred　yards　away。　Some　officer　with　a　deep　voice　began　giving　orders；　intoning　them　as　if　at　some　solemn　ceremony。　The　first　order　brought　the　muskets　from　the　men's　shoulders；　and　the　second　was　answered　by　a　simultaneous　click　of　opened　priming　pans。　The　third　order　brought　the　muskets　to　the　present　along　one　face　of　the　square。
　'Too　high！'　said　the　sergeant…major。　'Lower；　there；　number　seven。'
　The　charging　horsemen　were　only　thirty　yards　away；　Hornblower　saw　the　leading　men；　their　cloaks　flying　from　their　shoulders；　leaning　along　their　horses'　necks　with　their　sabre　pointed　forward　at　the　full　stretch　of　their　arms。
　'Fire！'　said　the　deep　voice。
　In　reply　came　a　single　sharp　explosion　as　every　musket　went　off　at　once。　The　smoke　swirled　round　the　square　and　disappeared。　Where　Hornblower　had　been　looking；　there　were　now　a　score　of　horses　and　men　on　the　ground；　some　struggling　in　agony；　some　lying　still。　The　cavalry　regiment　split　like　a　torrent　encountering　a　rock　and　hurtled　harmlessly　past　the　other　faces　of　the　square。
　'Well　enough；'　said　Edrington。
　The　deep　voice　was　intoning　again；　like　marionettes　all　on　the　same　string　the　pany　that　had　fired　now　reloaded；　every　man　biting　out　his　bullet　at　the　same　instant；　every　man　ramming　home　his　charge；　every　man　spitting　his　bullet　into　his　musket　barrel　with　the　same　instantaneous　inclination　of　head。　Edrington　looked　keenly　at　the　cavalry　collecting　together　in　a　disorderly　mob　down　the　valley。
　'The　43rd　will　advance！'　he　ordered。
　With　solemn　ritual　the　square　opened　up　again　into　two　columns　and　continued　its　interrupted　march。　The　detached　pany　came　marching　up　to　join　them　from　out　of　a　ring　of　dead　men　and　horses。　Someone　raised　a　cheer。
　'Silence　in　the　ranks！'　bellowed　the　sergeant…major。　'Sergeant；　take　that　man's　name。'
　But　Hornblower　noticed　how　the　sergeant…major　was　eyeing　keenly　the　distance　between　the　columns；　it　had　to　be　maintained　exactly　so　that　a　pany　wheeling　back　filled　it　to　make　the　square。
　'Here　they　e　again；'　said　Edrington。
　The　cavalry　were　forming　for　a　new　charge；　but　the　square　was　ready　for　them。　Now　the　horses　were　blown　and　the　men　were　less　enthusiastic。　It　was　not　a　solid　wall　of　horses　that　came　down　on　them；　but　isolated　groups；　rushing　first　at　one　face　and　then　at　another；　and　pulling　up　or　swerving　aside　as　they　reached　the　line　of　bayonets。　The　attacks　were　too　feeble　to　meet　with　pany　volleys；　at　the　word　of　mand　sections　here　and　there　gave　fire　to　the　more　determined　groups。　Hornblower　saw　one　man…an　officer；　judging　by　his　gold　lace…rein　up　before　the　bayonets　and　pull　out　a　pistol。　Before　he　could　discharge　it；　half　a　dozen　muskets　went　off　together；　the　officer's　face　became　a　horrible　bloody　mask；　and　he　and　his　horse　fell　together　to　the　ground。　Then　all　at　once　the　cavalry　wheeled　off；　like　starlings　over　a　field；　and　the　march　could　be　resumed。
　'No　discipline　about　these　Frogs；　not　on　either　side；'　said　Edrington。
　The　march　was　headed　for　the　sea；　for　the　blessed　shelter　of　the　Indefatigable；　but　it　seemed　to　Hornblower　as　if　the　pace　was　intolerably　slow。　The　men　were　marching　at　the　parade　step；　with　agonizing　deliberation；　while　all　round　them　and　far　ahead　of　them　the　fugitive　émigrés　poured　in　a　broad　stream　towards　safety。　Looking　back；　Hornblower　saw　the　fields　full　of　marching　columns…hurrying　swarms；　rather…of　Revolutionary　infantry　in　hot　pursuit　of　them。
　'Once　let　men　run；　and　you　can't　do　anything　else　with　them；'　mented　Edrington；　following　Hornblower's　gaze。
　Shouts　and　shots　over　to　the　flank　caught　their　attention。　Trotting　over　the　fields；　leaping　wildly　at　the　bumps；　came　a　cart　drawn　by　a　lean　horse。　Someone　in　a　seaman's　frock　and　trousers　was　holding　the　reins；　other　seamen　were　visible　over　the　sides　firing　muskets　at　the　horsemen　hovering　about　them。　It　was　Bracegirdle　with　his　dung　cart；　he　might　have　lost　his　guns　but　he　had　saved　his　men。　The　pursuers　dropped　away　as　the　cart　neared　the　columns；　Bracegirdle；　standing　up　in　the　cart；　caught　sight　of　Hornblower　on　his　horse　and　waved　to　him　excitedly。
　'Boadicea　and　her　chariot！'　he　yelled。
　'I'll　thank　you；　sir！'　shouted　Edrington　with　lungs　of　brass；　'to　go　on　and　prepare　for　our　embarkation。'
　'Aye　aye；　sir！'
　The　lean　horse　trotted　on　with　the　cart　lurching　after　it　and　the　grinning　seamen　clinging　on　to　the　sides。　At　the　flank　appeared　a　swarm　of　infantry；　a　mad；　gesticulating　crowd；　half　running　to　cut　off　the　43rd's　retreat。　Edrington　swept　his　glance　round　the　fields。
　'The　43rd　will　form　line！'　he　shouted。
　Like　some　ponderous　machine；　well　oiled；　the　half　battalion　fronted　towards　the　swarm；　the　columns　became　lines；　each　man　moving　into　his　position　like　bricks　laid　on　a　wall。
　'The　43rd　will　advance！'
　The　scarlet　line　swept　forward；　slowly；　inexorably。　The　swarm　hastened　to　meet　it；　officers　to　the　front　waving　their　swords　and　calling　on　their　men　to　follow。
　'Make　ready！'
　Every　musket　came　down　together；　the　priming　pans　clicked。
　'Present！'
　Up　came　the　muskets；　and　the　swarm　hesitated　before　that　fearful　menace。　Individuals　tried　to　get　back　into　the　crowd　to　cover　themselves　from　the　volley　with　the　bodies　of　their　rades。
　'Fire！'
　A　crashing　volley；　Hornblower；　looking　over　the　heads　of　the　British　infantry　from　his　point　of　vantage　on　horseback；　saw　the　whole　face　of　the　swarm　go　down　in　swathes。　Still　the　red　line　moved　forward；　at　each　deliberate　step　a　shouted　order　brought　a　machine…like　response　as　the　men　reloaded；　five　hundred　mouths　spat　in　five　hundred　bullets；　five　hundred　right　arms　raised　five　hundred　ramrods　at　once。　When　the　muskets　came　to　the　present　the　red　line　was　at　the　swathe　of　dead　and　wounded；　for　the　swarm　had　withdrawn　before　the　advance；　and　shrank　back　still　further　at　the　threat　of　the　volley。　The　volley　was　fired；　the　advance　went　on。　Another　volley；　another　advance。　Now　the　swarm　was　shredding　away。　Now　men　were　running　from　it。　Now　every　man　had　turned　tail　and　fled　from　that　frightful　musketry。　The　hillside　was　as　black　with　fugitives　as　it　had　been　when　the　émigrés　were　fleeing。
　'Halt！'
　The　advance　ceased；　the　line　became　a　double　column；　and　the　retreat　began　again。
　'Very　creditable；'　remarked　Edrington。
　Hornblower's　horse　was　trying　jerkily　to　pick　its　way　over　a　carpet　of　dead　and　wounded；　and　he　was　so　busy　keeping　his　seat；　and　his　brain　was　in　such　a　whirl；　that　he　did　not　immediately　realize　that　they　had　topped　the　last　rise；　so　that　before　them　lay　the　glittering　waters　of　the　estuary。　The　strip　of　muddy　beach　was　packed　solid　with　émigrés。　There　were　the　ships　riding　at　anchor；　and　there；　blessed　sight；　were　the　boats　swarming　towards　the　shore。　It　was　high　time；　for　already　the　boldest　of　the　Revolutionary　infantry　were　hovering　round　the　columns；　taking　long　shots　into　them。　Here　and　there　a　man　fell。
　'Close　up！'　snapped　the　sergeants；　and　the　files　marched　on　stolidly；　leaving　the　wounded　and　dead　behind　them。
　The　adjutant's　horse　suddenly　snorted　and　plunged；　and　then　fell　first　to　its　knees；　and；　kicking；　to　its　side；　while　the　freckle…faced　adjutant　freed　his　feet　from　the　stirrups　and　flung　himself　out　of　the　saddle　just　in　time　to　escape　being　pinned　underneath。
　'Are　you　hit；　Stanley？'　asked　Edrington。
　'No；　my　lord。　All　safe　and　sound；'　said　the　adjutant；　brushing　at　his　scarlet　coat。
　'You　won't　have　to　foot　it　far；'　said　Edrington。　'No　need　to　throw　out　skirmishers　to　drive　those　fellows　off。　This　is　where　we　must　make　our　stand。'
　He　looked　about　him；　at　the　fishermen's　cottages　above　the　beach；　the　panic…stricken　émigrés　at　the　water's　edge；　and　the　masses　of　Revolutionary　infantry　ing　up　in　pursuit；　leaving　small　en