JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 149 из 242He took out the ramrod, slid itinto the hoops under the barrel and gave the gun back to Hagman who used powder from his horn to prime the pan. He smoothed the priming with a blackened index finger, lowered the frizzen and grinned again at Vicente. „She’s like a woman, sir,” Hagman said, patting the rifle, „take care of her and she’ll take care of you.”
„You’ll notice he let Mister Sharpe do the ramming, sir,” Harper said guilelessly.
Vicente laughed and Sharpe suddenly remembered the horsemen and he snatched up the small telescope and trained it on the road leading into the village, but all that was left of the newcomers was the dust thrown up by their horses’ hooves. They were hidden by the trees around the Quinta and so he could not tell whether the horsemen had brought a mortar. He swore. Well, he would learn soon enough.
Hagman lay on his back, his feet toward the enemy, then pillowed the back of his neck against a rock. His ankles were crossed and he was using the angle between his boots as a rest for the rifle’s muzzle and, because the weapon was just under four feet long, he had to curl his torso awkwardly to bring the stock into his shoulder. He settled at last, the rifle’s brass butt at his shoulder and its barrel running the length of his body and, though the pose looked clumsy, it was favored by marksmen because it held the rifle so rigidly. „Wind, sir?”
„Left to right, Dan,” Sharpe said, „very light.”
„Very light,” Hagman repeated softly, then he pulled back the flint. The swan-neck cock made a slight creaking noise as it compressed the mainspring, then there was a click as the pawl took the strain and Hagman hinged the backsight up as high as it would go, then lined its notch with the blade-sight dovetailed at the muzzle. He had to lower his head awkwardly to see down the barrel. He took a breath, let it half out and held it. The other men on the hilltop also held their breath.
Hagman made some tiny adjustments, edging the barrel to the left and drawing the stock down to give the weapon more elevation. It was not only an impossibly long shot, but he was firing downhill which was notoriously difficult. No one moved. Sharpe was watching the howitzer crew through the telescope. The gunner was just bringing the portfire to the breech and Sharpe knew he should interrupt Hagman’s concentration and order his men to take cover, but just then Hagman pulled his trigger, the crack of the rifle startled birds up from the hillside, smoke wreathed about the rocks and Sharpe saw the gunner spin round and the portfire drop as the man clutched his right thigh.
„You’ll notice he let Mister Sharpe do the ramming, sir,” Harper said guilelessly.
Vicente laughed and Sharpe suddenly remembered the horsemen and he snatched up the small telescope and trained it on the road leading into the village, but all that was left of the newcomers was the dust thrown up by their horses’ hooves. They were hidden by the trees around the Quinta and so he could not tell whether the horsemen had brought a mortar. He swore. Well, he would learn soon enough.
Hagman lay on his back, his feet toward the enemy, then pillowed the back of his neck against a rock. His ankles were crossed and he was using the angle between his boots as a rest for the rifle’s muzzle and, because the weapon was just under four feet long, he had to curl his torso awkwardly to bring the stock into his shoulder. He settled at last, the rifle’s brass butt at his shoulder and its barrel running the length of his body and, though the pose looked clumsy, it was favored by marksmen because it held the rifle so rigidly. „Wind, sir?”
„Left to right, Dan,” Sharpe said, „very light.”
„Very light,” Hagman repeated softly, then he pulled back the flint. The swan-neck cock made a slight creaking noise as it compressed the mainspring, then there was a click as the pawl took the strain and Hagman hinged the backsight up as high as it would go, then lined its notch with the blade-sight dovetailed at the muzzle. He had to lower his head awkwardly to see down the barrel. He took a breath, let it half out and held it. The other men on the hilltop also held their breath.
Hagman made some tiny adjustments, edging the barrel to the left and drawing the stock down to give the weapon more elevation. It was not only an impossibly long shot, but he was firing downhill which was notoriously difficult. No one moved. Sharpe was watching the howitzer crew through the telescope. The gunner was just bringing the portfire to the breech and Sharpe knew he should interrupt Hagman’s concentration and order his men to take cover, but just then Hagman pulled his trigger, the crack of the rifle startled birds up from the hillside, smoke wreathed about the rocks and Sharpe saw the gunner spin round and the portfire drop as the man clutched his right thigh.