csf.thecommodore-第56节

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　the　sight　of　him　the　men　began　to　rally；　turning　back　to　face　the　enemy；　and　instinctively　closing　together　into　line。
　Down　through　the　ruins　came　a　disordered　column　of　the　enemy　…　it　must　have　e　up　over　the　breach　like　a　whirlwind。　By　now　it　was　more　of　a　mob　than　a　column；　officers　capering　at　the　head　of　their　men；　waving　their　hats　and　swords。　A　standard　waved　over　them。　The　appearance　of　a　formed　line　caused　a　momentary　hesitation；　and　ragged　firing　broke　out　on　both　sides；　Hornblower　saw　one　of　the　capering　officers　fall　dead　as　he　called　to　his　men　to　e　on。　He　looked　over　at　Essen；　but　he　was　still　towering　high　in　the　smoke。　Hornblower　wheeled　his　horse　towards　the　flank；　his　mind　was　working　with　the　ecstatic　speed　of　excitement；　bullets　were　singing　by　him；　and　he　knew　that　this　was　the　crisis　of　the　assault。　Halt　an　attacking　column　for　one　moment；　and　then　any　trifle　might　turn　the　scale；　and　it　would　go　back　as　fast　as　it　had　advanced。　He　reached　the　door　of　the　church　just　as　a　flood　of　men　came　pouring　out　of　it　…　the　garrison　of　the　building　hastening　to　make　good　their　retreat　before　they　should　be　cut　off　and　isolated。　Hornblower　tore　his　sword　from　its　sheath；　miraculously　retaining　his　seat　in　the　saddle。
　〃e　on！〃　he　yelled；　waving　the　weapon。
　They　did　not　understand　his　words；　as　they　blinked　at　this　vision　in　blue　and　gold　before　them；　but　anyone　could　understand　his　gestures。　At　the　back　of　the　group　Hornblower　caught　a　momentary　glimpse　of　Clausewitz　and　Diebitch；　who　should　have　taken　mand　here；　but　there　was　no　time　for　argument；　and　racing　through　Hornblower's　brain　went　the　conviction　at　the　same　time　that　although　they　might　be　scientific　soldiers　they　would　be　useless　in　a　physical　rough…and…tumble　like　this。
　〃e　on！〃　yelled　Hornblower　again；　pointing　with　his　sword　at　the　flank　of　the　assaulting　column。
　They　turned　to　follow　him　…　no　one　could　have　resisted　the　inspiration　of　his　example　and　gestures。　Column　and　line　were　still　exchanging　ragged　volleys；　the　column　still　moving　forward　little　by　little；　the　line　wavering　and　falling　back。
　〃Form　line！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　turning　in　his　saddle；　his　spread　arms　and　gesticulating　fists　telling　the　Russians　what　he　wanted　them　to　do。　〃Load　your　muskets！〃
　They　formed　their　line；　marching　up　after　him；　hands　busy　with　their　ramrods　…　a　couple　of　hundred　men　at　most；　jostling　each　other　as　they　stumbled　over　the　ruins　of　the　cottages。　Now　they　were　right　on　the　flank　of　the　column；　Hornblower　saw　faces　turn　towards　them。　He　was　even　near　enough　to　see　surprise　and　dismay　in　the　attitudes　of　the　men　who　suddenly　realized　that　a　new　force　was　about　to　assail　their　flank。
　〃Fire！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　and　some　sort　of　volley　crashed　out　from　the　ragged　line　he　led。
　He　saw　two　ramrods　sail　forward　in　soaring　arcs；　fired　out　of　their　muskets　by　excited　men　who　had　been　caught　in　the　act　of　loading　by　his　order；　and　who　had　incontinently　put　their　weapons　to　their　shoulders　and　pulled　their　triggers。　One　ramrod　buried　itself　like　an　arrow　in　the　body　of　a　French　soldier。　The　column　wavered　and　staggered　…　not　one　man　in　a　hundred　there　had　expected　this　attack　on　the　flank；　all　their　attention　had　been　taken　up　by　Essen's　line　in　front　of　them。
　〃Charge！〃　yelled　Hornblower；　waving　his　sword　and　urging　his　horse　forward。
　The　Russians　followed　him　with　a　cheer；　the　whole　column　of　the　enemy；　Hornblower　saw；　was　wavering　and　melting　away；　the　disordered　ranks　crumbling。　They　were　turning　their　backs；　and　the　memory　streaked　through　his　excited　mind　of　a　saying　he　had　heard　somewhere　to　the　effect　that　the　knapsacks　of　the　enemy　were　the　most　cheering　sight　a　soldier　could　behold。　Then　he　saw　one　of　the　enemy　swing　back　again　and　level　his　musket　at　him。　As　the　smoke　gushed　from　the　barrel　his　horse　gave　a　convulsive　leap　and　then　put　his　nose　to　the　ground　and　somersaulted；　for　a　moment　Hornblower　felt　himself　flying　through　the　air；　he　was　too　excited　and　exalted　to　feel　any　fear；　so　that　the　crash　with　which　he　hit　the　earth　came　as　a　startling　surprise　to　him。　But　even　though　the　breath　was　dashed　from　his　body　and　the　jar　shook　every　bone　in　it；　his　fantastic　mind　still　thought　clearly；　and　he　heard　and　felt　the　flank　attack　which　he　had　led　sweep　cheering　over　him。　Only　when　he　rose　to　his　feet　did　he　e　to　the　sudden　realization　that　he　was　bruised　and　weak；　so　that　it　was　hard　to　balance　on　his　legs　…　they　nearly　gave　way　under　him　as　he　hobbled　forward　to　pick　up　his　sword　which　lay　shining　on　the　dusty　earth　between　two　dead　men。
　He　felt　suddenly　alone；　but　the　feeling　had　hardly　time　to　take　hold　of　him　when　he　was　engulfed　in　a　wave　of　humanity；　Essen　and　his　staff　roaring　with　exaltation　and　delight。　He　stood　there；　bruised　and　torn；　his　sword　dangling　from　his　hand；　as　they　overwhelmed　him　with　inprehensible　congratulations。　One　of　the　officers　leaped　down　from　his　horse；　and　Hornblower　was　hauled　and　pushed　up　into　the　saddle；　and　they　cantered　forward；　the　horses　picking　their　way　delicately　over　the　dead　and　wounded；　over　the　tortured　ground；　towards　the　ramparts。　The　last　remnants　of　the　assaulting　forces　were　being　driven　back　through　the　breach　to　the　acpaniment　of　a　straggling　musketry　fire。　As　they　neared　the　fortifications　the　guns　of　the　foiled　besiegers　re…opened　fire；　and　a　shot　or　two　came　howling　overhead；　Essen　reined　up；　like　a　sensible　man；　and　then　walked　his　horse　out　of　the　line　of　fire。
　〃That　was　a　moment　to　remember；〃　he　said；　looking　round　at　the　area　where　the　clash　had　occurred。
　Hornblower's　head　was　still　clear。　He　realized　what　a　bitter　blow　this　reverse　must　be　to　the　besiegers。　After　all　the　fierce　preliminary　fighting　they　had　sapped　up　to　the　ramparts；　made　their　breach；　and　launched　the　assault　which　should　have　captured　the　place；　only　to　be　flung　back　when　the　breach　was　in　their　hands。　He　knew　that　Macdonald　would　have　the　greatest　difficulty　in　inducing　his　men　to　assault　again　…　a　bloody　failure　like　this　would　make　them　sulky　and　grudging　of　their　lives。　Certainly　Macdonald　would　have　to　allow　a　considerable　time　to　elapse；　and　would　have　to　continue　his　battering　for　several　more　days；　and　multiply　his　approaches　and　parallels；　before　he　could　risk　another　assault。　Maybe　the　town　would　hold。　Maybe　that　attack　would　be　the　last。　Hornblower　felt　prophetic；　inspired。　He　remembered　how　he　had　heard　the　news　of　Massena's　retreat　from　before　Lisbon　…　that　had　been　the　first　of　the　ebb　of　the　Empire　in　the　South；　and　now　Wellington　was　in　Madrid　and　threatening　France。　Maybe　Riga　would　mark　the　limits　of　the　Empire　in　the　North。　Maybe　that　penetration　through　the　breach　would　be　remembered　as　the　farthest　north　Bonaparte's　men　would　ever　attain。　At　that　rate　…　Hornblower's　pulse　beat　quicker　…　the　flank　attack　he　had　led；　that　unforeseen　charge　of　a　couple　of　hundred　men　hurriedly　gathered　up　in　the　tumult；　had　been　the　blow　which　had　thwarted　Bonaparte's　schemes　to　conquer　the　world。　That　was　what　he　had　done。　And　it　would　look　extraordinarily　well　in　The　Times　that　'modore　Sir　Horatio　Hornblower；　K。B。；　had　his　horse　killed　under　him　while　leading　a　charge。'　Barbara　would　be　pleased。
　Exultation　and　inspiration　ended　abruptly；　and　Hornblower　felt　suddenly　weak　and　ill。　He　knew　that　if　he　did　not　dismount　quickly　he　would　fall　from　his　saddle。　He　took　hold　of　the　pommel　and　kicked　his　right　foot　clear　of　the　stirrup；　swung　his　leg　over；　and　then　as　his　feet　touched　ground　the　ground　came　up　to　meet　him。　He　only　recovered　some　indefinite　number　of　minutes　later；　to　find　himself　seated　on　the　ground；　his　stock　unbuckled；　and　his　face　clammy　with　cold　sweat。　Essen　was　bending　anxiously　over　him；　and　someone；　apparently　a　surgeon；　was　kneeling　at　his　side。　His　sleeve　was　oiled　up　above　the　elbow；　and　the　surgeon；　lancet　in　hand；　as　about　to　open　a　vein　to　bleed　him。　Hornblower　withdrew　is　arm　abruptly；　for　he　did　not　want　to　be　touched　by　that　thing；　nor　by　those　hands　which　were　black　with　other　men's　blood。
　The　assembled　staff　raised　their　voices　in　protest；　but　Hornblower　disregarded　them　with　the　sublime　abstraction　of　a　sick　man。　Then　Brown　appeared；　cutlass　at　his　side　and　pistols　in　his　belt；　followed　by　other　members　of　the　barge's　crew。　Apparently　he　had　seen　his　captain　ride　over　the　bridge；　and；　like　the　good　subordinate　he　was；　had　brought　the　boat　across　after　him。　Brown's　face　was　contorted　with　anxiety；　and　he　threw　himself；　too；　on　his　knees　beside　Hornblower。
　〃Wounded；　sir？　Where　is　it？　Can　I　…〃
　〃No；　no；　no；〃　said　Hornblower　pettishly；　pushing　Brown　away　and　getting　to　his　feet；　swaying。　〃It's　nothing。〃
　It　was　extraordinarily　maddening　to　see　a　look　of　admiration　e　over　Brown's　face。　Anyone　would　think　he　was　being　heroic　instead　of　merely　sensible。　Not　far　away　…　at　the　foot　of　the　breach；　apparently　…　a　trumpet　was　pealing；　high　challenging　notes；　and　this　served　to　distract　the　crowd　from　their　solicitude。　Everyone　looked　in　the　direction　of　the　sound；　and　presently　a　group　of　Russian　officers　approached　them；　leading　a　blindfold　figure　dressed　in　the　blue　trimmed　with　grey　astrakhan　of　the　French　Imperial　Staff。　A　word　from　Essen　removed　the　bandage；　and　the　offic