JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 129 из 242They would stand back, cover their ears and the gunner would touch the linstock to the reed and just then Sharpe heard the boom and almost instantly there was an almighty crash inside the tower itself and he realized the shell had come right through the hole at the top of the truncated staircase and now it fell down, fuse smoking in a wild spiral, to lodge between two of the packs that held their food and Sharpe stared at it, saw the wisp of smoke shivering upward, knew they must all die or be terribly maimed when it exploded and he did not think, just dived. He scrabbled at the fuse, knew he was too late to extract it and so he dropped onto the shell, his belly smothering it, and his mind was screaming because he did not want to die. It will be quick, he thought, it will be quick, and at least he would not have to make decisions any more and no one else would be hurt and he cursed the shell because it was taking so long to explode and he was staring at Daniel Hagman who was staring back at him, eyes wide and the forgotten flute held just an inch from his mouth.
„Stay there much longer,” Harper said in a voice that could not quite hide the strain he was feeling, „and you’ll hatch the bloody thing.”
Hagman started to laugh, then Harris and Cooper and Harper joined in, and Sharpe climbed off the shell and saw that the wooden plug that held the fuse was blackened by fire, but somehow the fuse had gone out and he picked up the damned missile and hurled it out of the hole and listened to it clatter down the hill.
„Sweet Jesus,” Sharpe said. He was sweating, shaking. He collapsed back against the wall and looked at his men who were weak with laughter. „Oh, God,” he said.
„You’d have had a bellyache if that had popped, sir,” Hagman said and that started them all laughing again.
Sharpe felt drained. „If you bastards have nothing better to do,” he said, „then take out the canteens. Give everyone a drink.” He was rationing the water like the food, but the day was hot and he knew everyone would be dry. He followed the riflemen outside. Vicente, who had no idea what had just happened, but only knew that a second shell had failed to explode, looked anxious. „What happened?”
„Fuse went out,” Sharpe said, „just went out.”
He went down to the northernmost redoubts and stared at the gun. How much bloody ammunition did the bastards have? The rate of fire had slowed a little, but that seemed more to do with the gunners’ weariness than a shortage of shells. He watched them load another round, did not bother to take cover and the shell exploded up behind the watch-tower. The howitzer had recoiled eight or nine feet, much less than a field gun, and he watched as the gunners put their shoulders to the wheel and shoved it back into place. The air between Sharpe and the gun wavered because of the day’s heat, which was made more intense by a small grass fire ignited by the cannon’s blast.
„Stay there much longer,” Harper said in a voice that could not quite hide the strain he was feeling, „and you’ll hatch the bloody thing.”
Hagman started to laugh, then Harris and Cooper and Harper joined in, and Sharpe climbed off the shell and saw that the wooden plug that held the fuse was blackened by fire, but somehow the fuse had gone out and he picked up the damned missile and hurled it out of the hole and listened to it clatter down the hill.
„Sweet Jesus,” Sharpe said. He was sweating, shaking. He collapsed back against the wall and looked at his men who were weak with laughter. „Oh, God,” he said.
„You’d have had a bellyache if that had popped, sir,” Hagman said and that started them all laughing again.
Sharpe felt drained. „If you bastards have nothing better to do,” he said, „then take out the canteens. Give everyone a drink.” He was rationing the water like the food, but the day was hot and he knew everyone would be dry. He followed the riflemen outside. Vicente, who had no idea what had just happened, but only knew that a second shell had failed to explode, looked anxious. „What happened?”
„Fuse went out,” Sharpe said, „just went out.”
He went down to the northernmost redoubts and stared at the gun. How much bloody ammunition did the bastards have? The rate of fire had slowed a little, but that seemed more to do with the gunners’ weariness than a shortage of shells. He watched them load another round, did not bother to take cover and the shell exploded up behind the watch-tower. The howitzer had recoiled eight or nine feet, much less than a field gun, and he watched as the gunners put their shoulders to the wheel and shoved it back into place. The air between Sharpe and the gun wavered because of the day’s heat, which was made more intense by a small grass fire ignited by the cannon’s blast.