csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第23部分
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No musket fired from a heaving masthead at that range could possibly score a hit； that was obvious…so obvious that even Hornblower； madly excited as he was； could not help but be aware of it； and his certainty was apparent in his tone。 It was interesting to see how the two calm words steadied the men。 Down below the guns were roaring away continuously； and the ships were nearing each other fast。
'Open fire now； men！' said Hornblower。 'Finch！'
He stared down the short length of the swivel gun。 In the coarse V of the notch on the muzzle he could see the Frenchman's wheel； the two quartermasters standing behind it； the two officers beside it。 He jerked the lanyard。 A tenth of a second's delay； and then the gun roared out。 He was conscious； before the smoke whirled round him； of the firing quill； blown from the touchhole； flying past his temple。 Finch was already sponging out the gun。 The musket balls must have spread badly； only one of the helmsmen was down and someone else was already running to take his place。 At that moment the whole top lurched frightfully； Hornblower felt it but he could not explain it。 There was too much happening at once。 The solid timbers under his feet jarred him as he stood…perhaps a shot had hit the mizzen…mast。 Finch was ramming in the cartridge； something struck the breech of the gun a heavy blow and left a bright splash of metal there…a musket bullet from the Frenchman's mizzen…top。 Hornblower tried to keep his head； he took out another sharpened quill and coaxed it down into the touchhole。 It had to be done purposefully and yet gently； a quill broken off in the touchhole was likely to be a maddening nuisance。 He felt the point of the quill pierce the cartridge； Finch rammed home the wad on top of the musket balls。 A bullet struck the barricade beside him as Hornblower trained the gun down； but he gave it no thought。 Surely the top was swaying more even than the heavy sea justified？ No matter。 He had a clear shot at the enemy's quarterdeck。 He tugged at the lanyard。 He saw men fall。 He actually saw the spokes of the wheel spin round as it was left untended。 Then the two ships came together with a shattering crash and his world dissolved into chaos pared with which what had gone before was orderly。
The mast was falling。 The top swung round in a dizzy arc so that only his fortunate grip on the swivel saved him from being flung out like a stone from a sling。 It wheeled round。 With the shrouds on one side shot away and two cannon balls in its heart the mast tottered and rolled。 Then the tug of the mizzen…stays inclined it forward； the tug of the other shrouds inclined it to starboard； and the wind in the mizzen…topsail took charge when the back stays parted。 The mast crashed forward； the topmast caught against the mainyard and the whole structure hung there before it could dissolve into its constituent parts。 The severed butt…end of the mast must be resting on the deck for the moment； mast and topmast were still united at the cap and the trestle…trees into one continuous length； although why the topmast had not snapped at the cap was hard to say。 With the lower end of the mast resting precariously on the deck and the topmast resting against the mainyard； Hornblower and Finch still had a chance of life but the ship's motion； another shot from the Frenchman； or the parting of the over…strained material could all end that chance。 The mast could slip outwards； the topmast could break； the butt…end of the mast could slip along the deck…they had to save themselves if they could before any one of these imminent events occurred。 The maintopmast and everything above it was involved in the general ruin。 It too had fallen and was dangling； sails spars and ropes in one frightful tangle。 The mizzen…topsail had torn itself free。 Hornblower's eyes met Finch's； Finch and he were clinging to the swivel gun； and there was no one else in the steeply inclined top。
The starboard side mizzen…topmast shrouds still survived； they； as well as the topmast； were resting across the mainyard； strained taut as fiddle strings； the mainyard tightening them just as the bridge tightens the strings of a fiddle。 But along those shrouds lay the only way to safety…a sloping path from the peril of the top to the parative safety of the mainyard。
The mast began to slip； to roll； out towards the end of the yard。 Even if the mainyard held； the mizzen…mast would soon fall into the sea alongside。 All about them were thunderous noises…spars smashing； ropes parting； the guns were still bellowing and everyone below seemed to be yelling and screaming。
The top lurched again； frightfully。 Two of the shrouds parted with the strain； with a noise clearly audible through the other din； and as they parted the mast twisted with a jerk； swinging further round the mizzen…top； the swivel gun； and the two wretched beings who clung to it。 Finch's staring blue eyes rolled with the movement of the top。 Later Hornblower knew that the whole period of the fall of the mast was no longer than a few seconds； but at this time it seemed as if he had at least long minutes in which to think。 Like Finch's； his eyes stared round him； saw the chance of safety。
'The mainyard！' he screamed。
Finch's face bore its foolish smile。 Although instinct or training kept him gripping the swivel gun he seemingly had no fear； no desire to gain the safety of the mainyard。
'Finch； you fool！' yelled Hornblower。
He locked a desperate knee round the swivel so as to free a hand with which to gesticulate； but still Finch made no move。
'Jump； damn you！' raved Hornblower。 'The shrouds…the yard。 Jump！'
Finch only smiled。
'Jump and get to the maintop！ Oh； Christ…！' Inspiration came in that frightful moment。 'The maintop！ God's there； Finch！ Go along to God； quick！'
Those words penetrated into Finch's addled brain。 He nodded with sublime unworldliness。 Then he let go of the swivel and seemed to launch himself into the air like a frog。 His body fell across the mizzen…topmast shrouds and he began to scramble along them。 The mast rolled again； so that when Hornblower launched himself at the shrouds it was a longer jump。 Only his shoulders reached the outermost shroud。 He swung off； clung； nearly lost his grip； but regained it as a counterlurch of the leaning mast came to his assistance。 Then he was scrambling along the shrouds； mad with panic。 Here was the precious mainyard； and he threw himself across it； grappling its wele solidity with his body； his feet feeling for the footrope。 He was safe and steady on the yard just as the outward roll of the Indefatigable gave the balancing spars their final impetus； and the mizzen…topmast parted pany from the broken mizzen…mast and the whole wreck fell down into the sea alongside。 Hornblower shuffled along the yard； whither Finch had preceded him； to be received with rapture in the maintop by Midshipman Bracegirdle。 Bracegirdle was not God； but as Hornblower leaned across the breastwork of the maintop he thought to himself that if he had not spoken about God being in the maintop Finch would never have made that leap。
'Thought we'd lost you；' said Bracegirdle； helping him in and thumping him on the back。 'Midshipman Hornblower； our flying angel。'
Finch was in the top； too； smiling his fool's smile and surrounded by the crew of the top。 Everything seemed mad and exhilarating。 It was a shock to remember that they were in the midst of a battle； and yet the firing had ceased； and even the yelling had almost died away。 He staggered to the side of the top…strange how difficult it was to walk…and looked over。 Bracegirdle came with him。 Foreshortened by the height he could make out a crowd of figures on the Frenchman's deck。 Those check shirts must surely be worn by British sailors。 Surely that was Eccles； the Indefatigable's first lieutenant on the quarterdeck with a speaking trumpet。
'What has happened？' he asked Bracegirdle； bewildered。
'What has happened？' Bracegirdle stared for a moment before he understood。 'We carried her by boarding。 Eccles and the boarders were over the ship's side the moment we touched。 Why； man； didn't you see？'
'No； I didn't see it；' said Hornblower。 He forced himself to joke。 'Other matters demanded my attention at that moment。'
He remembered how the mizzen…top had lurched and swung； and he felt suddenly sick。 But he did not want Bracegirdle to see it。
'I must go on deck and report；' he said。
The descent of the main shrouds was a slow； ticklish business； for neither his hands nor his feet seemed to wish to go where he tried to place them。 Even when he reached the deck he still felt insecure。 Bolton was on the quarterdeck supervising the clearing away of the wreck of the mizzenmast。 He gave a start of surprise as Hornblower approached。
'I thought you were overside with Davy Jones；' he said。 He glanced aloft。 'You reached the mainyard in time？'
'Yes； sir。'
'Excellent。 I think you're born to be hanged； Hornblower。' Bolton turned away to bellow at the men。 ''Vast heaving； there！ Clynes； get down into the chains with that tackle！ Steady； now； or you'll lose it。'
He watched the labours of the men for some moments before he turned back to Hornblower。
'No more trouble with the men fo
