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Sharpes Eagle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 26 из 203Over there, in the Estremadura, the French were waiting, their Eagles gathering for the battle that had to come, while behind him, in the lane that led from the town, Sir Henry
Sirnrnerson was in sight coming to claim his victory and his victims for the triangle.
“For what we are about to receive,” Harper said softly.
“Quiet! Make them load. We’ll give the man a demonstration.” Sharpe watched Simmerson’s eyes as the slow dawning of his men’s unbuttoned collars and the significance of the leather shreds on the grass occurred in his brain. Sharpe watched the Colonel take a deep breath. “Now!”
„Fire!“ Harper’s command unleashed a full volley that echoed like thunder in the valley. If Simmerson shouted then his words were lost in the noise, and the Colonel could only watch as his men worked their muskets like veterans to the orders of a Sergeant of the Rifles, even bigger than Sharpe, whose broad, confident face was of the kind that had always infuriated Sir Henry, provoking his most savage sentences from the uncushioned magistrates’ bench in Chelmsford.
The last volley rattled onto the stone wall, and Forrest tucked his watch back into a pocket. “Two seconds under a minute, Sir Henry, and four shots.”
“I can count, Forrest.” Four shots? Simmerson was impressed because secretly he had despaired of teaching his men to fire fast instead of fumbling nervously. But a whole company’s stocks? At two and threepence apiece? And on a day when his nephew had come in smelling like a stable hand? “God damn your eyes, Sharpe!”
“Yes, sir.”
The acrid powder smoke made Sir Henry’s horse twitch its head, and the Colonel reached forward to quiet it. Sharpe watched the gesture and knew that he had made a fool of the Colonel in front of his own men, and he knew, too, that it had been a mistake. Sharpe had won a small victory but in doing so he had made an enemy who had both power and influence. The Colonel edged his horse closer to Sharpe and his voice was surprisingly quiet. “This is my Battalion, Mr Sharpe. My Battalion. Remember that!” He looked for a moment as if his anger would erupt, but he controlled it and shouted at Forrest to follow him instead. Sharpe turned away. Harper was grinning at him, the men looked pleased, and only Sharpe felt a foreboding of menace like an unseen but encircling enemy. He shook it off. There were muskets to clean, rations to issue, and, beyond the border hills, enemies enough for anyone.
CHAPTER 4
Patrick Harper marched with a long easy stride, happy to feel the road beneath his feet, happy they had at last crossed the unmarked frontier and were going somewhere, anywhere.
Sirnrnerson was in sight coming to claim his victory and his victims for the triangle.
“For what we are about to receive,” Harper said softly.
“Quiet! Make them load. We’ll give the man a demonstration.” Sharpe watched Simmerson’s eyes as the slow dawning of his men’s unbuttoned collars and the significance of the leather shreds on the grass occurred in his brain. Sharpe watched the Colonel take a deep breath. “Now!”
„Fire!“ Harper’s command unleashed a full volley that echoed like thunder in the valley. If Simmerson shouted then his words were lost in the noise, and the Colonel could only watch as his men worked their muskets like veterans to the orders of a Sergeant of the Rifles, even bigger than Sharpe, whose broad, confident face was of the kind that had always infuriated Sir Henry, provoking his most savage sentences from the uncushioned magistrates’ bench in Chelmsford.
The last volley rattled onto the stone wall, and Forrest tucked his watch back into a pocket. “Two seconds under a minute, Sir Henry, and four shots.”
“I can count, Forrest.” Four shots? Simmerson was impressed because secretly he had despaired of teaching his men to fire fast instead of fumbling nervously. But a whole company’s stocks? At two and threepence apiece? And on a day when his nephew had come in smelling like a stable hand? “God damn your eyes, Sharpe!”
“Yes, sir.”
The acrid powder smoke made Sir Henry’s horse twitch its head, and the Colonel reached forward to quiet it. Sharpe watched the gesture and knew that he had made a fool of the Colonel in front of his own men, and he knew, too, that it had been a mistake. Sharpe had won a small victory but in doing so he had made an enemy who had both power and influence. The Colonel edged his horse closer to Sharpe and his voice was surprisingly quiet. “This is my Battalion, Mr Sharpe. My Battalion. Remember that!” He looked for a moment as if his anger would erupt, but he controlled it and shouted at Forrest to follow him instead. Sharpe turned away. Harper was grinning at him, the men looked pleased, and only Sharpe felt a foreboding of menace like an unseen but encircling enemy. He shook it off. There were muskets to clean, rations to issue, and, beyond the border hills, enemies enough for anyone.
CHAPTER 4
Patrick Harper marched with a long easy stride, happy to feel the road beneath his feet, happy they had at last crossed the unmarked frontier and were going somewhere, anywhere.