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Sharpes Eagle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 77 из 203It wasmuch too small for him and he had ripped the seams in both armpits, but even so he could feel the sweat trickling down to the small of his back. The red jackets were essential. The French had become accustomed to the sight of the dead men and would have been certain to notice if suddenly ten bodies in green uniforms had appeared among the corpses. Harper’s biggest fear had been that the French might wander over to loot the bodies, but they had been ignored. He watched Sharpe march towards them, still two hundred and fifty yards away, and heard Lieutenant Knowles sigh with relief as Sharpe lifted his rifle in the air. Knowles was nominally in charge of the thirty men but Harper was satisfied the inexperienced Lieutenant would do nothing without first talking to him, and he suspected Sharpe had told Knowles, in no uncertain way, to leave the decisions to Harper.
The sound of the shot came flatly up the field. With relief Harper stretched his muscles and knelt upwards. “Take your time, lads, make the shots tell.”
To hurry would destroy their purpose. The Riflemen aimed deliberately, let the cramp ease in their arms; the first shots would be the most important. Hagman was first, Harper had expected that, and he watched approvingly as the Cheshire poacher grunted over his back sight and pulled the trigger. The gunner who was on the point of inserting the fuse spun away from the barrel and fell. In the next two seconds another eight bullets slaughtered three more of the French gun crew; the four survivors scrambled desperately for the scanty cover provided by the trail and the spokes of the gun’s wheels. The gun could not be fired now. The canister was still not loaded, Harper could see it lying beside a dead gunner who had fallen by the brass muzzle, and any man who dared to try to thrust the projectile into the barrel would be sure to be cut down by the deadly rifles. The French had stopped using rifles on the battlefield; they had abandoned them because they were too slow to load, but these gunners were learning that even the slow rifle had its advantages over the speedy musket, which could never hope to be accurate at a hundred paces.
“Cease firing!” The Riflemen looked at Harper. “Hagman!”
“Sarge?”
“Keep them busy. Gataker, Sims, Harvey!” The three looked at him expectantly. “You load for Hagman. You others, aim for the cavalry officers.”
Lieutenant Knowles ran and crouched beside the Sergeant. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Not yet, sir. We’ll move in a minute.
The sound of the shot came flatly up the field. With relief Harper stretched his muscles and knelt upwards. “Take your time, lads, make the shots tell.”
To hurry would destroy their purpose. The Riflemen aimed deliberately, let the cramp ease in their arms; the first shots would be the most important. Hagman was first, Harper had expected that, and he watched approvingly as the Cheshire poacher grunted over his back sight and pulled the trigger. The gunner who was on the point of inserting the fuse spun away from the barrel and fell. In the next two seconds another eight bullets slaughtered three more of the French gun crew; the four survivors scrambled desperately for the scanty cover provided by the trail and the spokes of the gun’s wheels. The gun could not be fired now. The canister was still not loaded, Harper could see it lying beside a dead gunner who had fallen by the brass muzzle, and any man who dared to try to thrust the projectile into the barrel would be sure to be cut down by the deadly rifles. The French had stopped using rifles on the battlefield; they had abandoned them because they were too slow to load, but these gunners were learning that even the slow rifle had its advantages over the speedy musket, which could never hope to be accurate at a hundred paces.
“Cease firing!” The Riflemen looked at Harper. “Hagman!”
“Sarge?”
“Keep them busy. Gataker, Sims, Harvey!” The three looked at him expectantly. “You load for Hagman. You others, aim for the cavalry officers.”
Lieutenant Knowles ran and crouched beside the Sergeant. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Not yet, sir. We’ll move in a minute.