JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 140 из 242Vicente’s men had been formed in two ranks on the tower’s open terrace, ready to fire a volley that had not been needed, and two of them had been killed by a howitzer shell, and another shell had slammed a piece of its casing into Gataker’s leg, gouging a bloody path down his right thigh, but leaving the bone unbroken. Sharpe had not even registered that the howitzer had been firing during the attack, but it had stopped now, the sun was fully risen and the valleys were flooded by light and Sergeant Harper, his rifle barrel fouled by powder deposits and hot from firing, had made the day’s first pot of tea.
CHAPTER 7
it was just before midday when a French soldier climbed the hill carrying a white flag of truce tied to the muzzle of his musket. Two officers accompanied him, one in French infantry blue and the other, Colonel Christopher, in his red British uniform jacket with its black facings and cuffs.
Sharpe and Vicente went to meet the two officers who had advanced a dozen paces ahead of the glum-looking man with the white flag and Vicente was forcibly struck by the resemblance between Sharpe and the French infantry officer, who was a tall, black-haired man with a scar on his right cheek and a bruise across the bridge of his nose. His ragged blue uniform bore the green-fringed epaulettes that showed he was a light infantryman and his flared shako was fronted with a white metal plate stamped with the French eagle and the number 31. The badge was surmounted by a plume of red and white feathers which looked new and fresh compared to the Frenchman’s stained and threadbare uniform.
„We’ll kill the Frog first,” Sharpe said to Vicente, „because he’s the dangerous bugger, and then we’ll fillet Christopher slowly.”
„Sharpe!” the lawyer in Vicente was shocked. „They’re under a flag of truce!”
They stopped a few paces from Colonel Christopher, who took a toothpick from his lips and chucked it away. „How are you, Sharpe?” he asked genially, then held up a hand to stay any answer. „Give me a moment, will you?” the Colonel said and one-handedly clicked open a tinderbox, struck a light and drew on a cigar. When it was burning satisfactorily he closed the tinderbox’s lid on the small flames and smiled. „Fellow with me is called Major Dulong. He don’t speak a word of English, but he wanted to have a look at you.”
Sharpe looked at Dulong, recognized him as the officer who had led so bravely up the hill, and then felt sorry that a good man had climbed back up the hill alongside a traitor. A traitor and a thief. „Where’s my telescope?” he demanded of Christopher.
CHAPTER 7
it was just before midday when a French soldier climbed the hill carrying a white flag of truce tied to the muzzle of his musket. Two officers accompanied him, one in French infantry blue and the other, Colonel Christopher, in his red British uniform jacket with its black facings and cuffs.
Sharpe and Vicente went to meet the two officers who had advanced a dozen paces ahead of the glum-looking man with the white flag and Vicente was forcibly struck by the resemblance between Sharpe and the French infantry officer, who was a tall, black-haired man with a scar on his right cheek and a bruise across the bridge of his nose. His ragged blue uniform bore the green-fringed epaulettes that showed he was a light infantryman and his flared shako was fronted with a white metal plate stamped with the French eagle and the number 31. The badge was surmounted by a plume of red and white feathers which looked new and fresh compared to the Frenchman’s stained and threadbare uniform.
„We’ll kill the Frog first,” Sharpe said to Vicente, „because he’s the dangerous bugger, and then we’ll fillet Christopher slowly.”
„Sharpe!” the lawyer in Vicente was shocked. „They’re under a flag of truce!”
They stopped a few paces from Colonel Christopher, who took a toothpick from his lips and chucked it away. „How are you, Sharpe?” he asked genially, then held up a hand to stay any answer. „Give me a moment, will you?” the Colonel said and one-handedly clicked open a tinderbox, struck a light and drew on a cigar. When it was burning satisfactorily he closed the tinderbox’s lid on the small flames and smiled. „Fellow with me is called Major Dulong. He don’t speak a word of English, but he wanted to have a look at you.”
Sharpe looked at Dulong, recognized him as the officer who had led so bravely up the hill, and then felt sorry that a good man had climbed back up the hill alongside a traitor. A traitor and a thief. „Where’s my telescope?” he demanded of Christopher.