JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 73 из 209CaptainMorillo was shaking his shoulder. "You should go now, before the others stir. My Sergeant will open the gate. Wake up, sir!"
Sharpe groaned, turned over, groaned again. There had been a time when he could live on no sleep, but he felt too old for such tricks now. There was a pain in his back, and an ache in his right leg where a bullet had once lodged. "Oh, Jesus."
"Dregara's bound to be awake when my men leave, and he mustn't see you," Morillo hissed.
Sharpe and Harper pulled on their boots, strapped on their sword belts, slung their weapons, then carried their saddles, bags and the strongbox to the fort's gate where a Sergeant let them out into the chill night. A moment later Morillo, together with a much smaller man, brought their horses. The mule was left behind in the fort to lull any suspicions Dregara might have.
"This is Ferdinand," Morillo introduced the small man. "He's your guide. He'll take you across the hills and cut a good ten hours off your journey. He's a picunche. He speaks no Spanish, I'm afraid, nor any other Christian language, but he knows what to do."
"Picunche?" Sharpe asked.
He was given his answer as a cloud slid from the moon to reveal that Ferdinand, named for the King of Spain, was an Indian. He was a small, thin man, with a flat mask of a face, dressed in a tatter of a cast-off cavalry uniform decorated with bright feathers stuck into its loops and buttonholes. He wore no shoes and carried no weapon.
"Picunche is a kind of tribal name," Morillo explained as he helped saddle Harper's horse. "We use the Indians as scouts and guides. There aren't many savages who are friendly to us. Don Bias wanted to recruit more, but that idea died with him."
"Doesn't Ferdinand have a horse?" Harper asked.
Morillo laughed. "He'll outrun your horses over a day's marching. He'll also give you a fighting chance to stay well ahead of Sergeant Dregara." Morillo tightened a girth strap, then stepped away. "Ferdinand will find his way back to me when he's finished with you. Good luck, Colonel."
Sharpe thanked the cavalry Captain. "How can we repay you?"
"Mention my name to Vivar's widow. Say I was a true man to her husband." Morillo was hoping that Dona Louisa would still have some influence in Spain, influence that would help his career when he was posted home again.
"I shall tell her you deserve whatever is in her gift," Sharpe promised, then he pulled himself into the saddle and took the great strongbox onto his lap. "Good luck, Captain."
"God bless you, senor.
Sharpe groaned, turned over, groaned again. There had been a time when he could live on no sleep, but he felt too old for such tricks now. There was a pain in his back, and an ache in his right leg where a bullet had once lodged. "Oh, Jesus."
"Dregara's bound to be awake when my men leave, and he mustn't see you," Morillo hissed.
Sharpe and Harper pulled on their boots, strapped on their sword belts, slung their weapons, then carried their saddles, bags and the strongbox to the fort's gate where a Sergeant let them out into the chill night. A moment later Morillo, together with a much smaller man, brought their horses. The mule was left behind in the fort to lull any suspicions Dregara might have.
"This is Ferdinand," Morillo introduced the small man. "He's your guide. He'll take you across the hills and cut a good ten hours off your journey. He's a picunche. He speaks no Spanish, I'm afraid, nor any other Christian language, but he knows what to do."
"Picunche?" Sharpe asked.
He was given his answer as a cloud slid from the moon to reveal that Ferdinand, named for the King of Spain, was an Indian. He was a small, thin man, with a flat mask of a face, dressed in a tatter of a cast-off cavalry uniform decorated with bright feathers stuck into its loops and buttonholes. He wore no shoes and carried no weapon.
"Picunche is a kind of tribal name," Morillo explained as he helped saddle Harper's horse. "We use the Indians as scouts and guides. There aren't many savages who are friendly to us. Don Bias wanted to recruit more, but that idea died with him."
"Doesn't Ferdinand have a horse?" Harper asked.
Morillo laughed. "He'll outrun your horses over a day's marching. He'll also give you a fighting chance to stay well ahead of Sergeant Dregara." Morillo tightened a girth strap, then stepped away. "Ferdinand will find his way back to me when he's finished with you. Good luck, Colonel."
Sharpe thanked the cavalry Captain. "How can we repay you?"
"Mention my name to Vivar's widow. Say I was a true man to her husband." Morillo was hoping that Dona Louisa would still have some influence in Spain, influence that would help his career when he was posted home again.
"I shall tell her you deserve whatever is in her gift," Sharpe promised, then he pulled himself into the saddle and took the great strongbox onto his lap. "Good luck, Captain."
"God bless you, senor.