csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第29部分

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　'I　don't　know；　sir；'　confessed　Hornblower　miserably。
　There　were　five　thousand　émigré　troops　at　Quiberon；　and　it　seemed　quite　unnecessary　to　keep　a　guard　out　in　that　direction。
　'Then　present　my　pliments　to　the　French　émigré　general；　and　suggest　he　posts　a　strong　detachment　up　the　road；　if　he　has　not　done　so。'
　'Aye　aye；　sir。'
　Hornblower　turned　his　horse's　head　back　up　the　path　towards　the　bridge。　The　sun　was　shining　strongly　now　over　the　deserted　herds。　He　could　still　hear　the　occasional　thud　of　a　cannon　shot；　but　overhead　a　lark　was　singing　in　the　blue　sky。　Then　as　he　headed　up　the　last　low　ridge　towards　Muzillac　and　the　bridge　he　heard　a　sudden　irregular　outburst　of　firing；　he　fancied　he　heard　screams　and　shouts；　and　what　he　saw　as　he　topped　the　rise；　made　him　snatch　at　his　reins　and　drag　his　horse　to　a　halt。　The　fields　before　him　were　covered　with　fugitives　in　blue　uniforms　with　white　crossbelts；　all　running　madly　towards　him。　In　among　the　fugitives　were　galloping　horsemen；　whirling　sabres　that　flashed　in　the　sunshine。　Farther　out　to　the　left　a　whole　column　of　horsemen　were　trotting　fast　across　the　fields；　and　farther　back　the　sun　glittered　on　lines　of　bayonets　moving　rapidly　from　the　high　road　towards　the　sea。
　There　could　be　no　doubt　of　what　had　happened；　during　those　sick　seconds　when　he　sat　and　stared；　Hornblower　realized　the　truth；　the　Revolutionaries　had　pushed　in　a　force　between　Quiberon　and　Muzillac；　and；　keeping　the　émigrés　occupied　by　demonstrations　from　across　the　river；　had　rushed　down　and　brought　off　a　plete　surprise　by　this　attack　from　an　unexpected　quarter。　Heaven　only　knew　what　had　happened　at　Quiberon…but　this　was　no　time　to　think　about　that。　Hornblower　dragged　his　horse's　head　round　and　kicked　his　heels　into　the　brute's　sides；　urging　him　frantically　back　up　the　path　towards　the　British。　He　bounced　and　rolled　in　his　saddle；　clinging　on　madly；　consumed　with　fear　lest　he　lose　his　seat　and　be　captured　by　the　pursuing　French。
　At　the　clatter　of　hoofs　every　eye　turned　towards　him　when　he　reached　the　British　post。　Edrington　was　there；　standing　with　his　horse's　bridle　over　his　arm。
　'The　French！'　yelled　Hornblower　hoarsely；　pointing　back。　'They're　ing！'
　'I　expected　nothing　else；'　said　Edrington。
　He　shouted　an　order　before　he　put　his　foot　in　the　stirrup　to　mount。　The　main　body　of　the　43rd　was　standing　in　line　by　the　time　he　was　in　the　saddle。　His　adjutant　went　galloping　off　to　recall　the　pany　from　the　water's　edge。
　'The　French　are　in　force；　horse；　foot；　and　guns；　I　suppose？'　asked　Edrington。
　'Horse　and　foot　at　least；　sir；'　gasped　Hornblower；　trying　to　keep　his　head　clear。　'I　saw　no　guns。'
　'And　the　émigrés　are　running　like　rabbits？'
　'Yes；　sir。'
　'Here　e　the　first　of　them。'
　Over　the　nearest　ridge　a　few　blue　uniforms　made　their　appearance；　their　wearers　still　running　while　stumbling　with　fatigue。
　'I　suppose　we　must　cover　their　retreat；　although　they're　not　worth　saving；'　said　Edrington。　'Look　there！'
　The　pany　he　had　sent　out　as　a　flank　guard　was　in　sight　on　the　crest　of　a　slight　slope：　it　was　formed　into　a　tiny　square；　red　against　the　green；　and　as　they　watched　they　saw　a　mob　of　horsemen　flood　up　the　hill　towards　it　and　break　into　an　eddy　around　it。
　'Just　as　well　I　had　them　posted　there；'　remarked　Edrington　calmly。　'Ah；　here　es　Mayne's　pany。'
　The　force　from　the　ford　came　marching　up。　Harsh　orders　were　shouted。　Two　panies　wheeled　round　while　the　sergeant…major　with　his　sabre　and　his　silver…headed　cane　regulated　the　pace　and　the　alignment　as　if　the　men　were　on　the　barrack　square。
　'I　would　suggest　you　stay　by　me；　Mr　Hornblower；'　said　Edrington。
　He　moved　his　horse　up　into　the　internal　between　the　two　columns；　and　Hornblower　followed　him　dumbly。　Another　order；　and　the　force　began　to　march　steadily　across　the　valley；　the　sergeants　calling　the　step　and　the　sergeant…major　watching　the　intervals。　All　round　them　now　were　fleeing　émigré　soldiers；　most　of　them　in　the　last　stages　of　exhaustion…Hornblower　noticed　more　than　one　of　them　fall　down　on　the　ground　gasping　and　incapable　of　further　movement。　And　then　over　the　low　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　ba