csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第21部分
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tier。'
'Very appropriate；' said Hornblower cynically； but to himself。 He had no thought of laughing at Finch's delusions。
'The Devil's in the cable tier during the dog watches；' said Finch again to no one at all。 'God stays in the maintop for ever。'
'A curious timetable；' was Hornblower's sotto voce ment。
From down on the deck below came the first strokes of eight bells； and at the same moment the pipes of the bosun's mates began to twitter； and the bellow of Waldron the bos'un made itself heard。
'Turn out the watch below！ All hands wear ship！ All hands！ All hands！ You； master…at…arms； take the name of the last man up the hatchway。 All hands！'
The interval of peace； short as it was； and broken by Finch's disturbing presence； was at an end。 Hornblower dived over the barricade and gripped the futtock shrouds； not for him was the easy descent through the lubber's hole； not when the first lieutenant might see him and reprimand him for unseamanlike behaviour。 Finch waited for him to quit the top； but even with this length start Hornblower was easily outfaced in the descent to the deck； for Finch； like the skilled seaman he was； ran down the shrouds as lightly as a monkey。 Then the thought of Finch's curious illusions was temporarily submerged in the business of laying the ship on her new course。
But later in the day Hornblower's mind reverted inevitably to the odd things Finch had been saying。 There could be no doubt that Finch firmly believed he saw what he said he saw。 Both his words and his expression made that certain。 He had spoken about God's beard…it was a pity that he had not spared a few words to describe the Devil in the cable tier。 Horns； cloven hoof； and pitchfork？ Hornblower wondered。 And why was the Devil only loose in the cable tier during the dog watches？ Strange that he should keep to a timetable。 Hornblower caught his breath as the sudden thought came to him that perhaps there might be some worldly explanation。 The Devil might well be loose in the cable tier in a metaphorical fashion during the dog watches。 Devil's work might be going on there。 Hornblower had to decide on what was his duty； and he had to decide further on what was expedient。 He could report his suspicions to Eccles； the first lieutenant； but after a year of service Hornblower was under no illusions about what might happen to a junior midshipman who worried a first lieutenant with unfounded Suspicions。 It would be better to see for himself first； as far as that went。 But he did not know what he would find…if he should find anything at all…and he did not know how he should deal with it if he found anything。 Much worse than that； he did not know if he would be able to deal with it in officer…like fashion。 He could make a fool of himself。 He might mishandle whatever situation he found； and bring down obloquy and derision upon his head； and he might imperil the discipline of the ship…weaken the slender thread of allegiance that bound officers and men together； the discipline which kept three hundred men at the bidding of their captain suffering untold hardship without demur； which made them ready to face death at the word of mand。 When eight bells told the end of the afternoon watch and the beginning of the first dog watch it was with trepidation that Hornblower went below to put a candle in a lantern and make his way forward to the cable tier。
It was dark down here； stuffy； odorous； and as the ship heaved and rolled he found himself stumbling over the various obstacles that impeded his progress。 Yet forward there was a faint light； a murmur of voices。 Hornblower choked down his fear that perhaps mutiny was being planned。 He put his hand over the horn window of the lantern； so as to obscure its light； and crept forward。 Two lanterns swung from the low deck…beams； and crouching under them were a score or more of men…more than that； even…and the buzz of their talk came loudly but indistinguishably to Hornblower's ears。 Then the buzz increased to a roar； and someone in the centre of the circle rose suddenly to as near his full height as the deck…beams allowed。 He was shaking himself violently from side to side for no apparent reason； his face was away from Hornblower； who saw with a gasp that his hands were tied behind him。 The men roared again； like spectators at a prizefight； and the man with his hands tied swung round so that Hornblower could see his face。 It was Styles； the man who suffered from boils； Hornblower knew him at once。 But that was not what made the most impression on Hornblower。 Clinging to the man's face； weird in the shifting meagre light； was a grey writhing shape； and it was to shake this off that Styles was flinging himself about so violently。 It was a rat； Hornblower's stomach turned over with horror。
With a wild jerk of his head Styles broke the grip of the rat's teeth and flung the creature down； and then instantly pinged down on his knees； with his hands still bound behind him； to pursue it with his own teeth。
'Time！' roared a voice at that moment…the voice of Partridge； bosun's mate。 Hornblower had been roused by it often enough to recognize it at once。
'Five dead；' said another voice。 'Pay all bets of evens or better。'
Hornblower plunged forward。 Part of the cable had been coiled down to make a rat pit ten feet across in which knelt Styles with dead and living rats about his knees。 Partridge squatted beside the ring with a sandglass…used for timing the casting of the log…in front of him。
'Six dead；' protected someone。 'that 'un's dead。'
'No； he ain't。'
''Is back's broken。 'E's a dead 'un。'
''E ain't a dead 'un；' said Partridge。
The man who had protested looked up at that moment and caught sight of Hornblower； and his words died away unspoken； at his silence the others followed his glance and stiffened into rigidity； and Hornblower stepped forward。 He was still wondering what he should do； he was still fighting down the nausea excited by the horrible things he had seen。 Desperately he mastered his horror； and； thinking fast； took his stand on discipline。
'Who's in charge here？' he demanded。
He ran his eye round the circle。 Petty officers and secondclass warrant officers； mainly； bosun's mates； carpenter's mates。 Muggridge； the surgeon's mate…his presence explained much。 But his own position was not easy。 A midshipman of scant service depended for his authority on board largely on the force of his own personality。 He was only a warrant officer himself； when all was said and done a midshipman was not nearly as important to the ship's economy…and was far more easily replaced…than； say； Washburn； the cooper's mate over there； who knew all about the making and storage of the ship's water barrels。
'Who's in charge here？' he demanded again； and once more received no direct reply。
'We ain't on watch；' said a voice in the background。
Hornblower by now had mastered his horror； his indignation still flared within him； but he could appear outwardly calm。
'No； you're not on watch；' he said coldly。 'You're gambling。'
Muggridge took up the defence at that。
'Gambling； Mr Hornblower？' he said。 'That's a very serious charge。 Just a gentlemanly petition。 You'll find it hard to sub…substantiate any charges of gambling。'
Muggridge had been drinking； quite obviously； following perhaps the example of the head of his department。 There was always brandy to be got in the medical stores。 A surge of wrath made Hornblower tremble； the effort necessary to keep himself standing stock still was almost too much for him。 But the rise in internal pressure brought him inspiration。
'Mr Muggridge；' he said icily； 'I advise you not to say too much。 There are other charges possible； Mr Muggridge。 A member of His Majesty's forces can be charged with rendering himself unfit for service； Mr Muggridge。 And similarly there might be charges of aiding and abetting which might include you。 I should consult the Articles of War if I were you； Mr Muggridge。 The punishment for such an offence is flogging round the fleet I believe。'
Hornblower pointed to Styles； with the blood streaming from his bitten face； and gave more force to his argument by the gesture。 He had met the men's arguments with a more effective one along the same lines； they had taken up a legalistic defence and he had legalistically beaten it down。 He had the upper hand now and could give vent to his moral indignation。
'I could bring charges against every one of you；' he roared。 'You could be court martialled…disrated…flogged…every man Jack of you。 By God； one more look like that from you； Partridge； and I'll do it。 You'd all be in irons five minutes after I spoke to Mr Eccles。 I'll have no more of these filthy games。 Let those rats loose； there you； Oldroyd； and you； Lewis。 Styles； get your face plastered up again。 You； Partridge； take these men and coil this cable down properly again before Mr Waldron sees it。 I'll keep my eye on all of you in future。 The next hint I have of misbehaviour and you'll all be at the gratings。 I've said it； and by God I mean it！'
Hornblower was surprised both at his own volubility and at his self possession。 He had not known himself capable of carrying off matters with such a high hand。 He sought about in
