按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
rbox from his pocket。 Once on the roadway of the bridge Hornblower sent away the cart and waited。 It was only two or three minutes before Bracegirdle appeared； frantically climbing the rope and hurling himself over the parapet。
'Run！' was all that was said。
Together they scurried down the bridge and halted breathless to crouch by the abutment of the causeway。 Then came a dull explosion； a tremor of the earth under their feet； and a cloud of smoke。
'Let's e and see；' said Bracegirdle。
They retraced their steps towards where the bridge was still shrouded in smoke and dust。
'Only partly…' began Bracegirdle as they neared the scene and the dust cleared away。
And at that moment there was a second explosion which made them stagger as they stood。 A lump of the roadbed hit the parapet beside them and burst like a shell； spattering them with fragments。 There was a rumble and a clatter as the arch subsided into the river。
'That must have been the second keg going off；' said Bracegirdle； wiping his face。 'We should have remembered the fuses were likely to be of different lengths。 Two promising careers might have ended suddenly if we had been any nearer。'
'At any rate； the bridge is gone；' said Hornblower。
'All's well that ends well；' said Bracegirdle。
Seventy pounds of gunpowder had done their work。 The bridge was cut clear across； leaving a ragged gap several feet wide； beyond which the roadway reached out towards the gap from the farther pier as a witness to the toughness of the mortar。 Beneath their feet as they peered over they could see the river bed almost choked with lumps of stone。
'We'll need no more than an anchor watch to…night；' said Bracegirdle。
Hornblower looked round to where the roan horse was tethered； he was tempted to return to Muzillac on foot； leading the animal； but shame forbade。 He climbed with an effort into the saddle and headed the animal back up the road； ahead of him the sky was beginning to turn red with the approach of sunset。
He entered the main street of the town and rounded the slight bend to the central square； to see something that made him； without his own volition； tug at his reins and halt his horse。 The square was full of people； townsfolk and soldiers； and in the centre of the square a tall narrow rectangle reached upwards towards the sky with a glittering blade at its upper end。 The blade fell with a reverberating thump； and the little group of men round the base of the rectangle dragged something to one side and added it to the heap already there。 The portable guillotine was at work。
Hornblower sat sick and horrified…this was worse than any flogging at the gratings。 He was about to urge his horse forward when a strange sound caught his ear。 A man was singing； loud and clear； and out from a building at the side of the square emerged a little procession。 In front walked a big man with dark curly hair； wearing a white shirt and dark breeches。 At either side and behind him walked soldiers。 It was this man who was singing； the tune meant nothing to Hornblower； but he could hear the words distinctly…it was one of the verses of the French revolutionary song； echoes of which had penetrated even across the Channel。
'Oh； sacred love of the Fatherland 。 。 。' sang the man in the white shirt； and when the civilians in the square heard what he was singing； there was a rustle among them and they dropped to the knees； their heads bowed and their hands crossed upon their breasts。
The executioners were winding the blade up again； and the man in the white shirt followed its rise with his eyes while he still sang without a tremor in his voice。 The blade reached the top； and the singing ceased at last as the executioners fell on the man with the white shirt and led him to the guillotine。 Then the blade fell with another echoing crash。
It seemed that this was to be the last execution； for the soldiers began to push the civilians back towards their homes； and Hornblower urged his horse forward through the dissolving crowd。 He was nearly thrown from his saddle when the animal plunged sideways； snorting furiously…it had scented the horrid heap that lay beside the guillotine。 At the side of the square was a house with a balcony； and Hornblower looked up at it in time to see Pouzauges still standing there； wearing his white uniform and blue ribbon； his staff about him and his hands on the rail。 There were sentries at the door； and to one of them Hornblower handed over his horse as he entered； Pouzauges was just descending the stairs。
'Good evening； sir；' said Pouzauges with perfect courtesy。 'I am glad you have found your way to headquarters。 I trust it was without trouble？ We are about to dine and will enjoy your pany。 You have your horse； I suppose？ M。 de Villers here will give orders for it to be looked after； I am sure。'
It was all hard to believe。 It was hard to believe that thin polished gentleman had ordered the butchery that had just ended； it was hard to believe that the elegant young men with whom he sat at dinner were staking their lives on the overthrow of a barbarous but lusty young republic。 But it was equally hard to believe； when he climbed into a four…poster bed that night； that he； Midshipman Horatio Hornblower； was in imminent deadly peril himself。
Outside in the street women wailed as the headless corpses； the harvest of the executions； were carried away； and he thought he would never sleep； but youth and fatigue had their way； and he slept for most of the night； although he awoke with the feeling that he had just been fighting off a nightmare。 Everything was strange to him in the darkness； and it was several moments before he could account for the strangeness。 He was in a bed and not…as he had spent the preceding three hundred nights…in a hammock； and the bed was steady as a rock instead of swaying about with the lively motion of a frigate。 The stuffiness about him was the stuffiness of bed curtains； and not the stuffiness of the midshipmen's berth with its pound smell of stale humanity and stale bilgewater。 He was on shore； in a house； in a bed； and everything about him was dead quiet； unnaturally so to a man accustomed to the noises of a wooden ship at sea。
Of course； he was in a house in the town of Muzillac in Brittany。 He was sleeping in the headquarters of Brigadier General the Marquis de Pouzauges； manding the French troops who constituted part of this expedition； which was itself part of a larger force invading Revolutionary France in the royalist cause。 Hornblower felt a quickening of the pulse； a faint sick feeling of insecurity； as he realized afresh that he was now in France； ten miles from the sea and the Indefatigable with only a rabble of Frenchmen…half of them mercenaries only nominally Frenchmen at that…around him to preserve him from death or captivity。 He regretted his knowledge of French…if he had had none he would not be here； and good fortune might even have put him among the British half…battalion of the 43rd guarding the ford a mile away。
It was partly the thought of the British troops which roused him out of bed。 It was his duty to see that liaison was kept up with them； and the situation might have changed while he slept。 He drew aside the bed curtains and stepped down to the floor； as his legs took the weight of his body they protested furiously…all the riding he had done yesterday had left every muscle and joint aching so that he could hardly walk。 But he hobbled in the darkness over to the window； found the latch of the shutters； and pushed them open。 A three…quarter moon was shining down into the empty street of the town； and looking down he could see the three…cornered hat of the sentry posted outside； and the bayonet reflecting the moonlight。 Returning from the window； he found his coat and his shoes and put them on； belted his cutlass about him； and then he crept downstairs as quietly as he could。 In the room off the entrance hall a tallow dip guttered on the table； and beside it a French sergeant slept with his head on his arms； lightly； for he raised his head as Hornblower paused in the doorway。 On the floor of the room the rest of the guard off duty were snoring stertorously； huddled together like pigs in a s