csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第49部分

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etopsail　swung　her　round　again　before　the　wind　like　a　weathervane。　If　there　had　been　time　to　spare　to　set　a　fragment　of　sail　farther　aft　she　would　have　been　saved；　but　in　those　enclosed　waters　there　was　no　time　to　spare。　At　one　moment　she　was　about　to　round　the　Corunna　headland；　at　the　next　she　had　lost　the　opportunity　for　ever。
　There　was　still　the　chance　that　she　might　fetch　the　opening　to　the　Ferrol　inlet；　the　wind　was　nearly　fair　for　her　to　do　that…nearly。　Hornblower　on　the　Ferrol　headland　was　thinking　along　with　the　Spanish　captain　down　there　on　the　heaving　deck。　He　saw　him　try　to　steady　the　ship　so　as　to　head　for　the　narrow　entrance；　notorious　among　seamen　for　its　difficulty。　He　saw　him　get　her　on　her　course；　and　for　a　few　seconds　as　she　flew　across　the　mouth　of　the　bay　it　seemed　as　if　the　Spaniard　would　succeed；　against　all　probability；　in　exactly　hitting　off　the　entrance　to　the　inlet。　Then　the　backlash　hit　her　again。　Had　she　been　quick　on　the　helm　she　might　still　have　been　safe；　but　with　her　sail　pressure　so　outbalanced　she　was　bound　to　be　slow　in　her　response　to　her　rudder。　The　shrieking　wind　blew　her　bows　round；　and　it　was　instantly　obvious；　too；　that　she　was　doomed；　but　the　Spanish　captain　played　the　game　out　to　the　last。　He　would　not　pile　his　ship　up　against　the　foot　of　the　low　cliffs。　He　put　his　helm　hard　over；　with　the　aid　of　the　wind　rebounding　from　the　cliffs　he　made　a　gallant　attempt　to　clear　the　Ferrol　headland　altogether　and　give　himself　a　chance　to　claw　out　to　sea。
　A　gallant　attempt；　but　doomed　to　failure　as　soon　as　begun；　he　actually　cleared　the　headland；　but　the　wind　blew　his　bows　round　again；　and；　bows　first；　the　ship　plunged　right　at　the　long　jagged　line　of　the　Devil's　Teeth。　Hornblower；　the　mandant；　and　everyone；　hurried　across　the　headland　to　look　down　at　the　final　act　of　the　tragedy。　With　tremendous　speed；　driving　straight　before　the　wind；　she　raced　at　the　reef。　A　roller　picked　her　up　as　she　neared　it　and　seemed　to　increase　her　speed。　Then　she　struck；　and　vanished　from　sight　for　a　second　as　the　roller　burst　into　spray　all　about　her。　When　the　spray　cleared　she　lay　there　transformed。　Her　three　masts　had　all　gone　with　the　shock；　and　it　was　only　a　black　hull　which　emerged　from　the　white　foam。　Her　speed　and　the　roller　behind　her　had　carried　her　almost　over　the　reef…doubtless　tearing　her　bottom　out…and　she　hung　by　her　stern；　which　stood　out　clear　of　the　water；　while　her　bows　were　just　submerged　in　the　paratively　still　water　in　the　lee　of　the　reef。
　There　were　men　still　alive　on　her。　Hornblower　could　see　them　crouching　for　shelter　under　the　break　of　her　poop。　Another　Atlantic　roller　came　surging　up；　and　exploded　on　the　Devil's　Teeth；　wrapping　the　wreck　round　with　spray。　But　yet　she　emerged　again；　black　against　the　creaming　foam。　She　had　cleared　the　reef　sufficiently　far　to　find　shelter　for　most　of　her　length　in　the　lee　of　the　thing　that　had　destroyed　her。　Hornblower　could　see　those　living　creatures　crouching　on　her　deck。　They　had　a　little　longer　to　live…they　might　live　five　minutes；　perhaps；　if　they　were　lucky。　Five　hours　if　they　were　not。
　All　round　him　the　Spaniards　were　shouting　maledictions。　Women　were　weeping；　some　of　the　men　were　shaking　their　fists　with　rage　at　the　British　frigate；　which；　well　satisfied　with　the　destruction　of　her　victim；　had　rounded…to　in　time　and　was　now　clawing　out　to　sea　again　under　storm　canvas。　It　was　horrible　to　see　those　poor　devils　down　there　die。　If　some　larger　wave　than　usual；　bursting　on　the　reef；　did　not　lift　the　stern　of　the　wreck　clear　so　that　she　sank；　she　would　still　break　up　for　the　survivors　to　be　whirled　away　with　the　fragments。　And；　if　it　took　a　long　time　for　her　to　break　up；　the　wretched　men　sheltering　there　would　not　be　able　to　endure　the　constant　beating　of　the　cold　spray　upon　them。　Something　should　be　done　to　save　them；　but　no　boat　could　round　the　headland　and　weather　the　Devil's　Teeth　to　reach　the　wreck。　That　was　so　obvious　as　not　to　call　for　a　second　thought。　But　。　。　。　Hornblower's　thoughts　began　to　race　as　he　started　to　work　on　the　alternatives。　The　mandant　on　his　horse　was　speaking　vehemently　to　a　Spanish　naval　officer；　clearly　on　the　same　subject；　and　the　naval　officer　was　spreading　his　hands　and　saying　that　any　attempt　would　be　hopeless。　And　yet　。　。　。　For　two　years　Hornblower　had　been　a　prisoner；　all　his　pent…up　restlessness　was　seeking　an　outlet；　and　after　two　years　of　the　misery　of　confinement　he　did　not　care　whether　he　lived　or　died。　He　went　up　to　the　mandant　and　broke　into　the　argument。
　'Sir；'　he　said；　'let　me　try　to　save　them。　Perhaps　from　the　little　bay　there。　　。　。　。　Perhaps　some　of　the　fishermen　would　e　with　me。'
　The　mandant　looked　at　the　officer　and　the　officer　shrugged　his　shoulders。
　'What　do　you　suggest；　sir？'　asked　the　mandant　of　Hornblower。
　'We　might　carry　a　boat　across　the　headland　from　the　dockyard；'　said　Hornblower；　struggling　to　word　his　ideas　in　Spanish；　'but　we　must　be　quick…quick！'
　He　pointed　to　the　wreck；　and　force　was　added　to　his　words　by　the　sight　of　a　roller　bursting　over　the　Devil's　Teeth。
　'How　would　you　carry　a　boat？'　asked　the　mandant。
　To　shout　his　plan　in　English　against　that　wind　would　have　been　a　strain；　to　do　so　in　Spanish　was　beyond　him。
　'I　can　show　you　at　the　dockyard；　sir；'　he　yelled。　'I　cannot　explain。　But　we　must　hurry！'
　'You　want　to　go　to　the　dockyard；　then？'
　'Yes…oh；　yes。'
　'Mount　behind　me；　sir；'　said　the　mandant。
　Awkwardly　Hornblower　scrambled　up　to　a　seat　astride　the　horse's　haunches　and　clutched　at　the　mandant's　belt。　He　bumped　frightfully　as　the　animal　wheeled　round　and　trotted　down　the　slope。　All　the　idlers　of　the　town　and　garrison　ran　beside　them。
　The　dockyard　at　Ferrol　was　almost　a　phantom　organization；　withered　away　like　a　tree　deprived　of　its　roots；　thanks　to　the　British　blockade。　Situated　as　it　was　at　the　most　distant　corner　of　Spain；　connected　with　the　interior　by　only　the　roughest　of　roads；　it　relied　on　receiving　its　supplies　by　sea；　and　any　such　reliance　was　likely　with　British　cruisers　off　the　coast　to　be　disappointed。　The　last　visit　of　Spanish　ships　of　war　had　stripped　the　place　of　almost　all　its　stores；　and　many　of　the　dockyard　hands　had　been　pressed　as　seamen　at　the　same　time。　But　all　that　Hornblower　needed　was　there；　as　he　knew；　thanks　to　his　careful　observation。　He　slid　off　the　horse's　hindquarters…miraculously　avoiding　an　instinctive　kick　from　the　irritated　animal…and　collected　his　thoughts。　He　pointed　to　a　low　dray…a　mere　platform　on　wheels…which　was　used　for　carrying　beef　barrels　and　brandy　kegs　to　the　pier。
　'Horses；'　he　said；　and　a　dozen　willing　hands　set　to　work　harnessing　a　team。
　Beside　the　jetty　floated　half　a　dozen　boats。　There　was　tackle　and　shears；　all　the　apparatus　necessary　for　swinging　heavy　weights　about。　To　put　slings　under　a　boat　and　swing　her　up　was　the　work　of　only　a　minute　or　two。　These　Spaniards　might　be　dilatory　and　lazy　as　a　rule；　but　inspire　them　with　the　need　for　instant　action；　catch　their　enthusiasm；　present　them　with　a　novel　plan；　and　they　would　work　like　madmen…and　some　of　them　were　skilled　workmen；　too。　Oars；　mast　and　sail　（not　that　they　would　need　the　sail）；　rudder；　tiller　and　balers　were　all　present。　A　group　came　running　from　a　store　shed　with　chocks　for　the　boat；　and　the　moment　these　were　set　up　on　the　dray　the　dray　was　backed　under　the　tackle　and　the　boat　lowered　on　to　them。
　'Empty　barrels；'　said　Hornblower。　'Little　ones…so。'
　A　swarthy　Galician　fisherman　grasped　his　intention　at　once　and　amplified　Hornblower's　halting　sentences　with　voluble　explanation。　A　dozen　empty　water　breakers；　with　their　bungs　driven　well　home；　were　brought；　and　the　swarthy　fisherman　climbed　on　the　dray　and　began　to　lash　them　under　the　thwarts。　Properly　secured；　they　would　keep　the　boat　afloat　even　were　she　filled　to　the　gunwale　with　water。
　'I　want　six　men；'　shouted　Hornblower；　standing　on　the　dray　and　looking　round　at　the　crowd。　'Six　fishermen　who　know　little　boats。'
　The　swarthy　fisherman　lashing　the　breakers　in　the　boat　looked　up　from　his　task。
　'I　know　whom　we　need；　sir；'　he　said。
　He　shouted　a　string　of　names；　and　half　a　dozen　men　came　forward；　burly；　weather…beaten　fellows；　with　the　self…reliant　look　in　their　faces　of　men　used　to　meeting　difficulties。　It　was　apparent　that　the　swarthy　Galician　was　their　captain。
　'Let　us　go；　then；'　said　Hornblower；　but　the　Galician　checked　him。
　Hornblower　did　not　hear　what　he　said；　but　some　of　the　crowd　nodded；　turned　away；　and　came　hastening　back　staggering　under　a　breaker　of　fresh　water　and　a　box　that　must　contain　biscuit。　Hornblower　was　cross　with　himself　for　forgetting　the　possibility　of　their　being　blown　out　to　sea。　And　the　mandant；　still　sitting　his　horse　and　watching　these　preparations　with　a　keen　eye；　took　note　of　these　stores　too。
　'Remember；　sir；　that　I　have　your　parole；'　he　said。
　'You　have　my　parole；　sir；'　said　Hornblower…for　a　few　blessed　moments　he　had　actually　forgotten　that　he　was　a　prisoner。
　The　stores　were　safely　put　away　into　the　sternsheets　and　the　fishing…boat　captain　caught　Hornblower's　eye　and　got　a　nod　from　him。
　'Let　us　go；'　he　roared　to　the　crowd。
　The　iron…shod　hoofs　clashed　on　the　cobbles　and　the　dray　lurched　forward；　with　men　leading　the　horses；　men　swar