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Sharpes Eagle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 191 из 203Who else is missing?”
“There’s Sergeant Harper, sir… „
“Ah!” Lawford interrupted. “The legendary Irishman.”
“And Lieutenant Gibbons, sir.”
“Lieutenant Gibbons?” Lawford remembered the meeting in Wellesley’s headquarters at Plasencia and the petulant expression on the blond Lieutenant’s face. “I wonder how he’ll get on without his uncle?” The Lieutenant Colonel smiled briefly; Gibbons was his least concern. There was still so much to do, so many men to be rescued before the townspeople spread into the carnage to loot the bodies. “Thank you, Major. We’ll just have to wait for Captain Sharpe. In the meantime would you arrange a party to get water for the men? And let’s hope these French dead have got food in their packs, otherwise we’re in for a lean night.”
The French did carry food, and gold, and Sharpe, as he always did, split his finds with Harper. The Sergeant was carrying the Eagle, and he peered at the bird thoughtfully.
“Is it worth money, sir?”
“I don’t know.” Out of habit Sharpe was reloading his rifle, and he grunted as he forced the ramrod into the fouled barrel.
“But they’ll reward us, sir, surely?”
Sharpe grinned at the Sergeant. “I’d think so. The Patriotic fund ought to be good for a hundred guineas, who knows?” He slid the ramrod back into place. “Perhaps they’ll just say ”thank you“.” He bowed ironically to the Irishman. “Thank you, Sergeant Harper.”
Harper bowed clumsily back. “It was a pleasure, Captain Sharpe.” He paused. “The bastards had better pay something. I can’t wait to see Simmerson’s face when you give him this.”
Sharpe laughed, he was looking forward to that moment. He took the Eagle from Harper. “Come on. We’d better find them.”
Harper touched Sharpe’s shoulder and froze, staring into the smoke above the stream. Sharpe could see nothing. “What is it?”
“Don’t you see it, sir?” Harper’s voice was hushed, excited. “There! Damn! It’s gone.”
“What, for God’s sake, what?”
Harper turned to him. “Would you wait, sir? Two minutes?”
Sharpe grinned. “A bird?”
“Aye. The magpie with the blue tail. It went over the stream and it can’t be far.” Harper’s face was lit up, the battle suddenly forgotten, the capture of the Eagle a small thing against the spotting of the rare bird he had yearned so long to see.
Sharpe laughed. “Go on. I’ll wait here.
“There’s Sergeant Harper, sir… „
“Ah!” Lawford interrupted. “The legendary Irishman.”
“And Lieutenant Gibbons, sir.”
“Lieutenant Gibbons?” Lawford remembered the meeting in Wellesley’s headquarters at Plasencia and the petulant expression on the blond Lieutenant’s face. “I wonder how he’ll get on without his uncle?” The Lieutenant Colonel smiled briefly; Gibbons was his least concern. There was still so much to do, so many men to be rescued before the townspeople spread into the carnage to loot the bodies. “Thank you, Major. We’ll just have to wait for Captain Sharpe. In the meantime would you arrange a party to get water for the men? And let’s hope these French dead have got food in their packs, otherwise we’re in for a lean night.”
The French did carry food, and gold, and Sharpe, as he always did, split his finds with Harper. The Sergeant was carrying the Eagle, and he peered at the bird thoughtfully.
“Is it worth money, sir?”
“I don’t know.” Out of habit Sharpe was reloading his rifle, and he grunted as he forced the ramrod into the fouled barrel.
“But they’ll reward us, sir, surely?”
Sharpe grinned at the Sergeant. “I’d think so. The Patriotic fund ought to be good for a hundred guineas, who knows?” He slid the ramrod back into place. “Perhaps they’ll just say ”thank you“.” He bowed ironically to the Irishman. “Thank you, Sergeant Harper.”
Harper bowed clumsily back. “It was a pleasure, Captain Sharpe.” He paused. “The bastards had better pay something. I can’t wait to see Simmerson’s face when you give him this.”
Sharpe laughed, he was looking forward to that moment. He took the Eagle from Harper. “Come on. We’d better find them.”
Harper touched Sharpe’s shoulder and froze, staring into the smoke above the stream. Sharpe could see nothing. “What is it?”
“Don’t you see it, sir?” Harper’s voice was hushed, excited. “There! Damn! It’s gone.”
“What, for God’s sake, what?”
Harper turned to him. “Would you wait, sir? Two minutes?”
Sharpe grinned. “A bird?”
“Aye. The magpie with the blue tail. It went over the stream and it can’t be far.” Harper’s face was lit up, the battle suddenly forgotten, the capture of the Eagle a small thing against the spotting of the rare bird he had yearned so long to see.
Sharpe laughed. “Go on. I’ll wait here.