csf.mrmidshipmanhornblower-第1节

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　A　January　gale　was　roaring　up　the　Channel；　blustering　loudly；　and　bearing　in　its　bosom　rain　squalls　whose　big　drops　rattled　loudly　on　the　tarpaulin　clothing　of　those　among　the　officers　and　men　whose　duties　kept　them　on　deck。　So　hard　and　so　long　had　the　gale　blown　that　even　in　the　sheltered　waters　of　Spithead　the　battleship　moved　uneasily　at　her　anchors；　pitching　a　little　in　the　choppy　seas；　and　snubbing　herself　against　the　tautened　cables　with　unexpected　jerks。　A　shore　boat　was　on　its　way　out　to　her；　propelled　by　oars　in　the　hands　of　two　sturdy　women；　it　danced　madly　on　the　steep　little　waves；　now　and　then　putting　its　nose　into　one　and　sending　a　sheet　of　spray　flying　aft。　The　oarswoman　in　the　bow　knew　her　business；　and　with　rapid　glances　over　her　shoulder　not　only　kept　the　boat　on　its　course　but　turned　the　bows　into　the　worst　of　the　waves　to　keep　from　capsizing。　It　slowly　drew　up　along　the　starboard　side　of　the　Justinian；　and　as　it　approached　the　mainchains　the　midshipman　of　the　watch　hailed　it。
　'Aye　aye'　came　back　the　answering　hail　from　the　lusty　lungs　of　the　woman　at　the　stroke　oar；　by　the　curious　and　ages…old　convention　of　the　Navy　the　reply　meant　that　the　boat　had　an　officer　on　board…presumably　the　huddled　figure　in　the　sternsheets　looking　more　like　a　heap　of　trash　with　a　boat…cloak　thrown　over　it。
　That　was　as　much　as　Mr　Masters；　the　lieutenant　of　the　watch；　could　see；　he　was　sheltering　as　best　he　could　in　the　lee　of　the　mizzen…mast　bitts；　and　in　obedience　to　the　order　of　the　midshipman　of　the　watch　the　boat　drew　up　towards　the　mainchains　and　passed　out　of　his　sight。　There　was　a　long　delay；　apparently　the　officer　had　some　difficulty　in　getting　up　the　ship's　side。　At　last　the　boat　reappeared　in　Masters'　held　of　vision；　the　women　had　shoved　off　and　were　setting　a　scrap　of　lugsail；　under　which　the　boat；　now　without　its　passenger；　went　swooping　back　towards　Portsmouth；　leaping　on　the　waves　like　a　steeplechaser。　As　it　departed　Mr　Masters　became　aware　of　the　near　approach　of　someone　along　the　quarterdeck；　it　was　the　new　arrival　under　the　escort　of　the　midshipman　of　the　watch；　who；　after　pointing　Masters　out；　retired　to　the　mainchains　again。　Mr　Masters　had　served　in　the　Navy　until　his　hair　was　white；　he　was　lucky　to　have　received　his　mission　as　lieutenant；　and　he　had　long　known　that　he　would　never　receive　one　as　captain；　but　the　knowledge　had　not　greatly　embittered　him；　and　he　diverted　his　mind　by　the　study　of　his　fellow　men。
　So　he　looked　with　attention　at　the　approaching　figure。　It　was　that　of　a　skinny　young　man　only　just　leaving　boyhood　behind；　something　above　middle　height；　with　feet　whose　adolescent　proportions　to　his　size　were　accentuated　by　the　thinness　of　his　legs　and　his　big　half…boots。　His　gawkiness　called　attention　to　his　hands　and　elbows。　The　newer　was　dressed　in　a　badly　fitting　uniform　which　was　soaked　right　through　by　the　spray；　a　skinny　neck　stuck　out　of　the　high　stock；　and　above　the　neck　was　a　white　bony　face。　A　white　face　was　a　rarity　on　the　deck　of　a　ship　of　war；　whose　crew　soon　tanned　to　a　deep　mahogany；　but　this　face　was　not　merely　white；　in　the　hollow　cheeks　there　was　a　faint　shade　of　green…clearly　the　newer　had　experienced　seasickness　in　his　passage　out　in　the　shore　boat。　Set　in　the　white　face　were　a　pair　of　dark　eyes　which　by　contrast　looked　like　holes　cut　in　a　sheet　of　paper；　Masters　noted　with　a　slight　stirring　of　interest　that　the　eyes；　despite　their　owner's　seasickness；　were　looking　about　keenly；　taking　in　what　were　obviously　new　sights；　there　was　a　curiosity　and　interest　there　which　could　not　be　repressed　and　which　continued　to　function　notwithstanding　either　seasickness　or　shyness；　and　Mr　Masters　surmised　in　his　far…fetched　fashion　that　this　boy　had　a　vein　of　caution　or　foresight　in　his　temperament　and　was　already　studying　his　new　surroundings　with　a　view　to　being　prepared　for　his　next　experiences。　So　might　Daniel　have　looked　about　him　at　the　lions　when　he　first　entered　their　den。
　The　dark　eyes　met　Masters'；　and　the　gawky　figure　came　to　a　halt；　raising　a　hand　selfconsciously　to　the　brim　of　his　dripping　hat。　His　mouth　opened　and　tried　to　say　something；　but　closed　again　without　achieving　its　object　as　shyness　overcame　him；　but　then　the　newer　nerved　himself　afresh　and　forced　himself　to　say　the　formal　words　he　had　been　coached　to　utter。
　'e　aboard；　sir。'
　'Your　name？'　asked　Masters；　after　waiting　for　it　for　a　moment。
　'H…Horatio　Hornblower；　sir。　Midshipman；'　stuttered　the　boy。
　'Very　good；　Mr　Hornblower；'　said　Masters；　with　the　equally　formal　response。　'Did　you　bring　your　dunnage　aboard　with　you？'
　Hornblower　had　never　heard　that　word　before；　but　he　still　had　enough　of　his　wits　about　him　to　deduce　what　it　meant。
　'My　sea　chest；　sir。　It's…it's　forrard；　at　the　entry　port。'
　Hornblower　said　these　things　with　the　barest　hesitation；　he　knew　that　at　sea　they　said　them；　that　they　pronounced　the　word　'forward'　like　that；　and　that　he　had　e　on　board　through　the　'entry　port'；　but　it　called　for　a　slight　effort　to　utter　them　himself。
　'I'll　see　that　it's　sent　below；'　said　Masters。　'And　that's　where　you'd　better　go；　too。　The　captain's　ashore；　and　the　first　lieutenant's　orders　were　that　he's　not　to　be　called　on　any　account　before　eight　bells；　so　I　advise　you；　Mr　Hornblower；　to　get　out　of　those　wet　clothes　while　you　can。'
　'Yes；　sir；'　said　Hornblower；　his　senses　told　him；　the　moment　he　said　it；　that　he　had　used　an　improper　expression…the　look　on　Masters'　face　told　him；　and　he　corrected　himself　（hardly　believing　that　men　really　said　these　things　off　the　boards　of　the　stage）　before　Masters　had　time　to　correct　him。
　'Aye　aye；　sir；'　said　Hornblower；　and　as　a　second　afterthought　he　put　his　hand　to　the　brim　of　his　hat　again。
　Masters　returned　the　pliment　and　turned　to　one　of　the　shivering　messengers　cowering　in　the　inadequate　shelter　of　the　bulwark。　'Boy！　Take　Mr　Hornblower　down　to　the　midshipmen's　berth。'
　'Aye　aye；　sir。'
　Hornblower　acpanied　the　boy　forward　to　the　main　hatchway。　Seasickness　alone　would　have　made　him　unsteady　on　his　feet；　but　twice　on　the　short　journey　he　stumbled　like　a　man　tripping　over　a　rope　as　a　sharp　gust　brought　the　Justinian　up　against　her　cables　with　a　jerk。　At　the　hatchway　the　boy　slid　down　the　ladder　like　an　eel　over　a　rock；　Hornblower　had　to　brace　himself　and　descend　far　more　gingerly　and　uncertainly　into　the　dim　light　of　the　lower　gundeck　and　then　into　the　twilight　of　the　'tweendecks。　The　smells　that　entered　his　nostrils　were　as　strange　and　as　assorted　as　the　noises　that　assailed　his　ears。　At　the　foot　of　each　ladder　the　boy　waited　for　him　with　a　patience　whose　tolerance　was　just　obvious。　After　the　last　descent；　a　few　steps…Hornblower　had　already　lost　his　sense　of　direction　and　did　not　know　whether　it　was　aft　or　forward…took　them　to　a　gloomy　recess　whose　shadows　were　accentuated　rather　than　lightened　by　a　tallow　dip　spiked　onto　a　bit　of　copper　plate　on　a　table　round　which　were　seated　half　a　dozen　shirt…sleeved　men。　The　boy　vanished　and　left　Hornblower　standing　there；　and　it　was　a　second　or　two　before　the　whiskered　man　at　the　head　of　the　table　looked　up　at　him。
　'Speak；　thou　apparition；'　said　he。
　Hornblower　felt　a　wave　of　nausea　overing　him　…　the　after　effects　of　his　trip　in　the　shore　boat　were　being　accentuated　by　the　incredible　stuffiness　and　smelliness　of　the　'tweendecks。　It　was　very　hard　to　speak；　and　the　fact　that　he　did　not　know　how　to　phrase　what　he　wanted　to　say　made　it　harder　still。
　'My　name　is　Hornblower。'　he　quavered　at　length。
　'What　an　infernal　piece　of　bad　luck　for　you；'　said　a　second　man　at　the　table；　with　a　plete　absence　of　sympathy。
　At　that　moment　in　the　roaring　world　outside　the　ship　the　wind　veered　sharply；　heeling　the　Justinian　a　trifle　and　swinging　her　round　to　snub　at　her　cables　again。　To　Hornblower　it　seemed　more　as　if　the　world　had　e　loose　from　its　fastenings。　He　reeled　where　he　stood；　and　although　he　was　shuddering　with　cold　he　felt　sweat　on　his　face。
　'I　suppose　you　have　e；'　said　the　whiskered　man　at　the　head　of　the　table；　'to　thrust　yourself　among　your　betters。　Another　soft…headed　ignoramus　e　to　be　a　nuisance　to　those　who　have　to　try　to　teach　you　your　duties。　Look　at　him'…the　speaker　with　a　gesture　demanded　the　attention　of　everyone　at　the　table…'look　at　him；　I　say！　The　King's　latest　bad　bargain。　How　old　are　you？'
　'S…seventeen；　sir；'　stuttered　Hornblower。
　'Seventeen！'　the　disgust　in　the　speaker's　voice　was　only　too　evident。　'You　must　start　at　twelve　if　you　ever　wish　to　be　a　seaman。　Seventeen！　Do　you　know　the　difference　between　a　head　and　a　halliard？'
　That　drew　a　laugh　from　the　group；　and　the　quality　of　the　laugh　was　just　noticeable　to　Hornblower's　whirling　brain；　so　that　he　guessed　that　whether　he　said　'yes'　or　'no'　he　would　be　equally　exposed　to　ridicule。　He　groped　for　a　neutral　reply。
　'That's　the　first　thing　I'll　look　up　in　Norie's　Seamanship；'　he　said。
　The　ship　lurched　again　at　that　moment；　and　he　clung　on　to　the　table。
　'Gentlemen；'　he　began　pathetically；　wondering　how　to　say　what　he　had　in　mind。
　'My　God！'　exclaimed　somebody　at　the　table。　'He's　seasick！'
　'Seasick　in　Spithead！'　said　somebody　else；　in　a　tone　in　which　amazement　had　as　much　place　as　disgust。
　But　Hornblower　ceased　to　care；　he　was　not　real