JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 48 из 209"
"That means you're in trouble," Blair said happily, "that means you'rein trouble."
That night it rained so heavily that the town ditch flooded with earth-reddened water which, in the moonlight, looked like blood. Blair became drunk. He bemoaned that his wife was still in Liverpool and commiserated with Sharpe and Harper that their wives were, respectively, in France and Ireland. "You live in bloody France?" Blair kept asking the question as though to dilute the astonishment he evidently felt for Sharpe's choice of a home. "Bloody funny place to live, I mean if you've been fighting the buggers. It must be like a fox moving in with the rabbits!"
Sharpe tried to talk of more immediate matters, like Captain-General Bautista and his fascination for Napoleon, but Blair did not want to talk about the Spanish commander. "He's a bastard. A son-of-a-whore bastard, and that's all there is to say about him." It was clear that Blair, despite his privileged status as a diplomat, feared the Spanish commander.
"Are you saying he's illegitimate?" Sharpe asked disingenuously.
"Oh, Christ, no." Blair glanced at the servants as though fearing they had suddenly learned English and would report this conversation to Bautista's spies. "Bautista's a younger son, so he needs to make his own fortune. He got his posting here because his father is a Minister in Ferdinand VII's government, and he greased his son a commission in the artillery and an appointment in Chile, because this is where the money is. But the rest Bautista did for himself. He's capable! He's efficient and a hard worker. He's probably no soldier, but he's no weakling. And he's making himself rich."
"So he's corrupt?"
"Corrupt!" Blair mocked the word. "Of course he's corrupt. They're all corrupt. I'm corrupt! Everyone here knows the bloody war is lost. It's only a question of time before the Spaniards go and the Chileans can bugger up their own country instead of having someone else to do it for them, so what Bautista and his people are doing is making themselves rich before someone takes away the tray of baubles." Blair paused, sipped, then leaned closer to Sharpe. "Your friend Vivar wasn't corrupt, which is why he made enemies, but Bautista, he's a coming man! He'll make his money, then go home and use that money to buy himself office in Madrid. Mark my words, he'll be the power in Spain before he's fifty."
"How old is he now?"
"He's a youngster! Thirty, no more." Blair, clearly deciding he had said enough about the feared Bautista, pushed his glass to the end of the table for a servant girl to fill with a mixture of rum and wine.
"That means you're in trouble," Blair said happily, "that means you'rein trouble."
That night it rained so heavily that the town ditch flooded with earth-reddened water which, in the moonlight, looked like blood. Blair became drunk. He bemoaned that his wife was still in Liverpool and commiserated with Sharpe and Harper that their wives were, respectively, in France and Ireland. "You live in bloody France?" Blair kept asking the question as though to dilute the astonishment he evidently felt for Sharpe's choice of a home. "Bloody funny place to live, I mean if you've been fighting the buggers. It must be like a fox moving in with the rabbits!"
Sharpe tried to talk of more immediate matters, like Captain-General Bautista and his fascination for Napoleon, but Blair did not want to talk about the Spanish commander. "He's a bastard. A son-of-a-whore bastard, and that's all there is to say about him." It was clear that Blair, despite his privileged status as a diplomat, feared the Spanish commander.
"Are you saying he's illegitimate?" Sharpe asked disingenuously.
"Oh, Christ, no." Blair glanced at the servants as though fearing they had suddenly learned English and would report this conversation to Bautista's spies. "Bautista's a younger son, so he needs to make his own fortune. He got his posting here because his father is a Minister in Ferdinand VII's government, and he greased his son a commission in the artillery and an appointment in Chile, because this is where the money is. But the rest Bautista did for himself. He's capable! He's efficient and a hard worker. He's probably no soldier, but he's no weakling. And he's making himself rich."
"So he's corrupt?"
"Corrupt!" Blair mocked the word. "Of course he's corrupt. They're all corrupt. I'm corrupt! Everyone here knows the bloody war is lost. It's only a question of time before the Spaniards go and the Chileans can bugger up their own country instead of having someone else to do it for them, so what Bautista and his people are doing is making themselves rich before someone takes away the tray of baubles." Blair paused, sipped, then leaned closer to Sharpe. "Your friend Vivar wasn't corrupt, which is why he made enemies, but Bautista, he's a coming man! He'll make his money, then go home and use that money to buy himself office in Madrid. Mark my words, he'll be the power in Spain before he's fifty."
"How old is he now?"
"He's a youngster! Thirty, no more." Blair, clearly deciding he had said enough about the feared Bautista, pushed his glass to the end of the table for a servant girl to fill with a mixture of rum and wine.