JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 207 из 209It was the same young officer who had greeted Sharpe athis first arrival on the island. "It's Colonel Sharpe, isn't it, sir?" The Lieutenant seemed pleased to see Sharpe again.
"Yes." Sharpe could not remember the boy's name, and he felt guilty. Napoleon never forgot a soldier's name. Soon, no doubt, the Emperor would be welcoming his veterans to Chile by name, but for the life of him, Sharpe could not recall this one soldier's name. "I'm sorry," Sharpe said, "I don't remember your—"
"Lieutenant Roland Hardacre, sir. The same name as my father."
"Of course," Sharpe said. "You remember Mister Harper? And this is General Vivar of the Spanish Army."
"Sir!" Hardacre offered Vivar a smart salute.
"We came here, Lieutenant," Vivar said, "to discover what happened when the O'Higgins called here."
"The O'Higgins?" Hardacre frowned as he tried to recall the particular ship, then his face cleared. "Ah, yes! Our first visitor from the Chilean Navy! She called here a month ago." He shrugged, as though he could recall nothing significant in the O'Higgins's visit. "She reprovisioned, sir, then sailed away. To be honest, none of us were very sure why she came this far. There can hardly be any Chilean interests in this part of the world."
Sharpe felt an immense relief. Hardacre had treated the query very casually, which suggested to Sharpe that nothing important could have occurred during the Chileans' visit. "So Bonaparte's at Longwood still?" Sharpe asked.
"At Longwood, sir?" Hardacre repeated the question, but very hesitantly, and this time Sharpe knew something was wrong. The Lieutenant blushed, then frowned. "You haven't heard, sir?"
"Heard? Heard what?"
"The Emperor's dead, sir. He died last month. He's buried in the hills. The grave isn't far from the house. I'm sure if you'd like to visit the grave we can find some mules. Not that there's much to see there. Some people like to visit the house and take a keepsake."
Sharpe could say nothing. He was not sure he had heard right or, if he had, that such news could be true. Napoleon, dead? He touched the locket about his neck, suddenly glad that he possessed it.
Harper crossed himself.
Vivar, whose prayer had come true, also crossed himself. "How did he die, Lieutenant?"
"The doctors said it was a cancerous ulcer, sir."
"It sounds painful," Vivar said. He gazed up into hills, to where a mist clung to the high green slopes. "Poor man. To die so far from home."
"Would you like to visit the grave, sir?" Hardacre asked.
"I would," Vivar said.
"And me," Harper added.
"Yes." Sharpe could not remember the boy's name, and he felt guilty. Napoleon never forgot a soldier's name. Soon, no doubt, the Emperor would be welcoming his veterans to Chile by name, but for the life of him, Sharpe could not recall this one soldier's name. "I'm sorry," Sharpe said, "I don't remember your—"
"Lieutenant Roland Hardacre, sir. The same name as my father."
"Of course," Sharpe said. "You remember Mister Harper? And this is General Vivar of the Spanish Army."
"Sir!" Hardacre offered Vivar a smart salute.
"We came here, Lieutenant," Vivar said, "to discover what happened when the O'Higgins called here."
"The O'Higgins?" Hardacre frowned as he tried to recall the particular ship, then his face cleared. "Ah, yes! Our first visitor from the Chilean Navy! She called here a month ago." He shrugged, as though he could recall nothing significant in the O'Higgins's visit. "She reprovisioned, sir, then sailed away. To be honest, none of us were very sure why she came this far. There can hardly be any Chilean interests in this part of the world."
Sharpe felt an immense relief. Hardacre had treated the query very casually, which suggested to Sharpe that nothing important could have occurred during the Chileans' visit. "So Bonaparte's at Longwood still?" Sharpe asked.
"At Longwood, sir?" Hardacre repeated the question, but very hesitantly, and this time Sharpe knew something was wrong. The Lieutenant blushed, then frowned. "You haven't heard, sir?"
"Heard? Heard what?"
"The Emperor's dead, sir. He died last month. He's buried in the hills. The grave isn't far from the house. I'm sure if you'd like to visit the grave we can find some mules. Not that there's much to see there. Some people like to visit the house and take a keepsake."
Sharpe could say nothing. He was not sure he had heard right or, if he had, that such news could be true. Napoleon, dead? He touched the locket about his neck, suddenly glad that he possessed it.
Harper crossed himself.
Vivar, whose prayer had come true, also crossed himself. "How did he die, Lieutenant?"
"The doctors said it was a cancerous ulcer, sir."
"It sounds painful," Vivar said. He gazed up into hills, to where a mist clung to the high green slopes. "Poor man. To die so far from home."
"Would you like to visit the grave, sir?" Hardacre asked.
"I would," Vivar said.
"And me," Harper added.