csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第30部分
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'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at once。 When the muskets came to the present the red line was at the swathe of dead and wounded; for the swarm had withdrawn before the advance; and shrank back still further at the threat of the volley。 The volley was fired; the advance went on。 Another volley; another advance。 Now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 enough time for preparation。 Some of the redcoats poured into the cottages; appearing a moment later at the windows; it was fortunate that the fishing hamlet guarded one flank of the gap down to the beach while the other was guarded by a steep and inaccessible headland on whose summit a small block of redcoats established themselves。 In the gap between the two points the remaining four panies formed a long line just sheltered by the crest of the beach。
The boats of the squadron were already loading with émigrés among the small breakers below。 Hornblower heard the crack of a single pistol…shot; he could guess that some officer down there was enforcing his orders in the only possible way to prevent the fear…driven men from pouring into the boats and swamping them。 As if in answer came the roar of cannon on the other side。 A battery of artillery had unlimbered just out of musket range and was firing at the British position; while all about it gathered the massed battalions of the Revolutionary infantry。 The cannon balls howled close overhead。
'Let them fire away;' said Edrington。 'The longer the better。'
The artillery could do little harm to the British in the fold of ground that protected them; and the Revolutionary mander must have realized that as well as the necessity for wasting no time。 Over there the drums began to roll…a noise of indescribable menace…and then the columns surged forward。 So close were they already that Hornblower could see the features of the officers in the lead; waving their hats and swords。
'43rd; make ready!' said Edrington; and the priming pans clicked as one。 'Seven paces forward…march!'
One…two…three…seven paces; painstakingly taken; took the line to the little crest。
'Present! Fire!'
A volley nothing could withstand。 The columns halted; swayed; received another smashing volley; and another; and fell back in ruin。
'Excellent!' said Edrington。
The battery boomed again; a file of two redcoat soldiers was tossed back like dolls; to lie in a horrible bloody mass close beside Hornblower's horse's feet。
'Close up!' said a sergeant; and the men on either side had filled the gap。
'43rd; seven paces back…march!'
The line was below the crest again; as the redcoated marionettes withdrew in steady time。 Hornblower could not remember later whether it was twice or three times more that the Revolutionary masses came on again; each time to be dashed back by that disciplined musketry。 But the sun was nearly setting in the ocean behind him when he looked back to see the beach almost cleared and Bracegirdle plodding up to them to report。
'I can spare one pany now;' said Edrington in reply but not taking his eyes off the French masses。 'After they are on board; have every boat ready and waiting。'
One pany filed off; another attack was beaten back…after the preceding failures it was not pressed home with anything like the dash and fire of the earlier ones。 Now the battery was turning its attention to the headland on the flank; and sending its balls among the redcoats there; while a battalion of French moved over to the attack at that point。
'That gives us time;' said Edrington。 'Captain Griffin; you can march the men off。 Colour party; remain here。'
Down the beach went the centre panies to the waiting boats; while the colours still waved to mark their old position; visible over the crest to the French。 The pany in the cottages came out; formed up; and marched down as well。 Edrington trotted across to the foot of the little headland; he watched the French forming for the attack and the infantry wading out to the boats。
'Now; grenadiers!' he yelled suddenly。 'Run for it! Colour party!'
Down the steep seaward face of the headland came the last pany; running; sliding; and stumbling。 A musket; clumsily handled; went off unexpectedly。 The last man came down the slope as the colour party reached the water's edge and began to climb into a boat with its precious burden。 A wild yell went up from the French; and their whole mass came rushing towards the evacuated position。
'Now; sir;' said Edrington; turning his horse seawards。
Hornblower fell from his saddle as his horse splashed into the shallows。 He let go of the reins and plunged out; waist deep; shoulder deep; to where the longboat lay on its oars with its four…pounder gun in its bows and Bracegirdle beside it to haul him in。 He looked up in time to see a curious incident; Edrington had reached the Indefatigable's gig; still holding his horse's reins。 With the French pouring down the beach towards them; he turned and took a musket from the nearest soldier; pressed the muzzle to the horse's head; and fired。 The horse fell in its death agony in the shallows; only Hornblower's roan remained as prize to the Revolutionaries。
'Back water!' said Bracegirdle; and the longboat backed away from the beach; Hornblower lay in the eyes of the boat feeling as if he had not the strength to move a limb; and the beach was covered with shouting; gesticulating Frenchmen; lit redly by the sunset。
'One moment;' said Bracegirdle; reaching for the lanyard of the four…pounder; and tugging at it smartly。
The gun roared out in Hornblower's ear; and the charge cut a swathe of destruction on the beach。
'That was canister;' said Bracegirdle。 'Eighty…four balls。 Easy; port! Give way; starboard!'
The longboat turned; away from the beach and towards the weling ships。 Hornblower looked back at the darkening coast of France。 This was the end of an incident; his country's attempt to overturn the Revolution had met with a bloody repulse。 Newspapers in Paris would exult; the Gazette in London would give the incident five cold lines。 Clairvoyant; Hornblower could foresee that in a year's time the world would hardly remember the incident。 In twenty Years it would be entirely forgotten。 Yet those headless corpses up there in Muzillac; those shattered redcoats; those Frenchmen caught in the four…pounder's blast of canister…they were all as dead as if it had been a day in which history ha