JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 131 из 209"Not yet, boys!" Miller said, "Not yet!And when we do attack, boys, I want to hear 'Heart of Oak'!" He beat time to a tune heard only in his head, then explained to Sharpe that two of his flautists were Chilean and therefore unfamiliar with patriotic British songs. "But I taught 'em, Sharpe, 'pon my soul I taught 'em." Unable to restrain himself, the Major burst into song.
“Come, cheer up, my lads!
‘tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to his wonderful year;
To honor we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Heart of oak are our ships!
Heart of oak are our men!
We always are ready!
Steady, boys, steady…
"Stop that bloody caterwauling down below!" came a bellow from the quarterdeck.
"A thousand apologies, my Lord!" Miller was mortified to have earned a reproof from his beloved Cochrane.
"Save your dreadful music for the enemy, Miller!" Cochrane was clearly amused by Miller's singing.
"Whatever you say, my Lord. And I'm much obliged for Your Lordship's advice!"
"And cheer up, lads!" Cochrane called down to all the hidden men who were nervously waiting for the attack to begin. "There are whores with tits of purest gold ashore! One more hour and we'll all be drunk, rich and rogered witless!"
Major Miller smiled confidingly at Sharpe. "A great man, our Tommy, a great man! A hero, Sharpe, like yourself. Cut from the old cloth, poured from an antique mold, sprung from ancient seed, clean hewn from solid oak!" Miller, moved by this elaborate encomium, sniffed. "He may be a Scotsman, but at heart there's English oak there, Sharpe, pure English oak! I'm proud to know him, I am, proud indeed." Miller looked as if he needed to cuff a tear from his eyes, but his emotional outpouring of loyalty was cut short by an appalling crash of gunfire from the castle ramparts. Heavy roundshot screamed overhead, slashing above the Espiritu Santa's truncated masts to blast fountains of water close to the pursuing O'Higgins. The Chilean flagship immediately answered with a deafening full broadside.
"God save Ireland," Harper said, "but I never thought to be in a battle again."
The Chilean shots cracked against the castle crag, splintering shards of stone, but otherwise doing no damage. Other guns were firing now, lighter guns, cracking their missiles down from the citadel's highest ramparts, Sharpe imagined the roundshots smashing through the O'Higgins’ hull timbers. God help them, he thought, God help them.
“Come, cheer up, my lads!
‘tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to his wonderful year;
To honor we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Heart of oak are our ships!
Heart of oak are our men!
We always are ready!
Steady, boys, steady…
"Stop that bloody caterwauling down below!" came a bellow from the quarterdeck.
"A thousand apologies, my Lord!" Miller was mortified to have earned a reproof from his beloved Cochrane.
"Save your dreadful music for the enemy, Miller!" Cochrane was clearly amused by Miller's singing.
"Whatever you say, my Lord. And I'm much obliged for Your Lordship's advice!"
"And cheer up, lads!" Cochrane called down to all the hidden men who were nervously waiting for the attack to begin. "There are whores with tits of purest gold ashore! One more hour and we'll all be drunk, rich and rogered witless!"
Major Miller smiled confidingly at Sharpe. "A great man, our Tommy, a great man! A hero, Sharpe, like yourself. Cut from the old cloth, poured from an antique mold, sprung from ancient seed, clean hewn from solid oak!" Miller, moved by this elaborate encomium, sniffed. "He may be a Scotsman, but at heart there's English oak there, Sharpe, pure English oak! I'm proud to know him, I am, proud indeed." Miller looked as if he needed to cuff a tear from his eyes, but his emotional outpouring of loyalty was cut short by an appalling crash of gunfire from the castle ramparts. Heavy roundshot screamed overhead, slashing above the Espiritu Santa's truncated masts to blast fountains of water close to the pursuing O'Higgins. The Chilean flagship immediately answered with a deafening full broadside.
"God save Ireland," Harper said, "but I never thought to be in a battle again."
The Chilean shots cracked against the castle crag, splintering shards of stone, but otherwise doing no damage. Other guns were firing now, lighter guns, cracking their missiles down from the citadel's highest ramparts, Sharpe imagined the roundshots smashing through the O'Higgins’ hull timbers. God help them, he thought, God help them.