JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 44 из 209Harper and Sharpe were new faces in a small town, and thus a cause for excited speculation. The wind swirled dust devils across the square and napped the ornate Spanish ensign that flew over the Citadel's gatehouse. A legless beggar, swinging along on his hands, followed Sharpe and pleaded for money. Another, who looked like a leper, made a meaningless noise and held out the stump of a wrist toward the two strangers. A Dominican monk, his white robes stained with the red dust that blew everywhere, was arguing with a carter who had evidently failed to deliver a shipment of wine.
"We're going to need a carter," Sharpe was thinking aloud as he led Harper toward the Citadel's sentries, "or at least a cart. We're also going to want two riding horses, plus saddlery, and supplies for as long as it takes to get to Puerto Crucero and back. Unless we can sail home from Puerto Crucero? Or maybe we can sail down there! That'll be cheaper than buying a cart."
"What the hell do we want a cart for?" Harper was panting at the brisk pace set by Sharpe.
"We need a cart to carry the coffin to Puerto Crucero, unless, of course, we can go there by ship."
"Why the hell don't we have a coffin made in Puerto Crucero?" Harper asked. "The world's not so short of carpenters that you can't find a man to knock up a bloody box!"
"Because a box won't do the trick!" Sharpe said. "The thing has to be watertight, Patrick, not to keep the rain out but to keep the decay in. We're going to need a tinsmith, and I don't suppose Puerto Crucero has too many of those! So we'll have a watertight box made here before we go south."
"We could plop him in a vat of brandy?" Harper suggested helpfully. "There's a fellow who drinks in my place that was a gunner's mate on the Victory at Trafalgar, and he says that after the battle they brought Nelson back in a barrel of brandy. My fellow had a look at the body when they unstowed it, and he says the Admiral was as fresh as the day he died, so he was, with flesh soft as a baby, and the only change was that all the man's hair and nails had grown wild. He tasted the brandy too, so he did. He says it was a bit salty."
"I don't want to put Don Bias in brandy," Sharpe said irritably. "He'll be half-rotted as it is, and if we put him in a cask of bloody liquor he'll like as not dissolve altogether, and instead of burying the poor man in Spain we'll just be pouring him away. So we'll put him in a tin box, solder him up tight, and take him back that way."
"Whatever you say," Harper said grimly, the tone provoked by the unfriendly faces of the sentries at the fort's gate. The Citadel reminded Sharpe of the Spanish fortresses he had assaulted in the French wars.
"We're going to need a carter," Sharpe was thinking aloud as he led Harper toward the Citadel's sentries, "or at least a cart. We're also going to want two riding horses, plus saddlery, and supplies for as long as it takes to get to Puerto Crucero and back. Unless we can sail home from Puerto Crucero? Or maybe we can sail down there! That'll be cheaper than buying a cart."
"What the hell do we want a cart for?" Harper was panting at the brisk pace set by Sharpe.
"We need a cart to carry the coffin to Puerto Crucero, unless, of course, we can go there by ship."
"Why the hell don't we have a coffin made in Puerto Crucero?" Harper asked. "The world's not so short of carpenters that you can't find a man to knock up a bloody box!"
"Because a box won't do the trick!" Sharpe said. "The thing has to be watertight, Patrick, not to keep the rain out but to keep the decay in. We're going to need a tinsmith, and I don't suppose Puerto Crucero has too many of those! So we'll have a watertight box made here before we go south."
"We could plop him in a vat of brandy?" Harper suggested helpfully. "There's a fellow who drinks in my place that was a gunner's mate on the Victory at Trafalgar, and he says that after the battle they brought Nelson back in a barrel of brandy. My fellow had a look at the body when they unstowed it, and he says the Admiral was as fresh as the day he died, so he was, with flesh soft as a baby, and the only change was that all the man's hair and nails had grown wild. He tasted the brandy too, so he did. He says it was a bit salty."
"I don't want to put Don Bias in brandy," Sharpe said irritably. "He'll be half-rotted as it is, and if we put him in a cask of bloody liquor he'll like as not dissolve altogether, and instead of burying the poor man in Spain we'll just be pouring him away. So we'll put him in a tin box, solder him up tight, and take him back that way."
"Whatever you say," Harper said grimly, the tone provoked by the unfriendly faces of the sentries at the fort's gate. The Citadel reminded Sharpe of the Spanish fortresses he had assaulted in the French wars.