JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 150 из 242He staggered for afew seconds, then fell.
„Right thigh, Dan,” Sharpe said, knowing that Hagman could not see through the smoke of his rifle, „and you put him down. Under cover! All of you! Quick!” Another gunner had snatched up the portfire.
They scrambled behind rocks and flinched as the shell exploded on the face of a big boulder. Sharpe slapped Hagman’s back. „Unbelievable, Dan!”
„I was aiming for his chest, sir.”
„You spoiled his day, Dan,” Harper said. „You spoiled his bloody day.” The other riflemen were congratulating Hagman. They were proud of him, delighted that the old man was back on his feet and as good as ever. And the shot had somehow compensated for Williamson’s treachery. They were an elite again, they were riflemen.
„Do it again, sir?” Hagman asked Sharpe.
„Why not?” Sharpe said. If a mortar did come then its crew would be frightened if they discovered they were within range of the deadly rifles.
Hagman began the laborious process all over again, but no sooner had he wrapped the next bullet in its leather patch than, to Sharpe’s astonishment, the howitzer’s trail was lifted onto the limber and the gun was dragged away into the trees. For a moment Sharpe was exultant, then he feared that the French were simply taking away the howitzer so that the mortar could use the cleared patch of land. He waited with a heavy sense of dread, but no mortar appeared. No one appeared. Even the infantry who had been posted close to the howitzer had gone back into the trees and, for the first time since Sharpe had retreated to the watch-tower, the northern slope was deserted. Dragoons still patrolled to the east and west, but after a half-hour they too rode north toward the village.
„What’s happening?” Vicente asked.
„God knows.”
Then, suddenly, Sharpe saw the whole French force, the gun, the cavalry and the infantry, and they were all marching away down the road from Vila Real de Zedes. They must be going back to Oporto and he gazed, dumbfounded, not daring to believe what he saw. „It’s a trick,” Sharpe said, „has to be.” He gave the telescope to Vicente.
„Maybe it is peace?” Vicente suggested after he had stared at the retreating French. „Maybe the fighting really is over. Why else would they go?”
„They’re going, sir,” Harper said, „that’s all that matters.” He had taken the glass from Vicente and could see a farm wagon loaded with the French wounded.
„Right thigh, Dan,” Sharpe said, knowing that Hagman could not see through the smoke of his rifle, „and you put him down. Under cover! All of you! Quick!” Another gunner had snatched up the portfire.
They scrambled behind rocks and flinched as the shell exploded on the face of a big boulder. Sharpe slapped Hagman’s back. „Unbelievable, Dan!”
„I was aiming for his chest, sir.”
„You spoiled his day, Dan,” Harper said. „You spoiled his bloody day.” The other riflemen were congratulating Hagman. They were proud of him, delighted that the old man was back on his feet and as good as ever. And the shot had somehow compensated for Williamson’s treachery. They were an elite again, they were riflemen.
„Do it again, sir?” Hagman asked Sharpe.
„Why not?” Sharpe said. If a mortar did come then its crew would be frightened if they discovered they were within range of the deadly rifles.
Hagman began the laborious process all over again, but no sooner had he wrapped the next bullet in its leather patch than, to Sharpe’s astonishment, the howitzer’s trail was lifted onto the limber and the gun was dragged away into the trees. For a moment Sharpe was exultant, then he feared that the French were simply taking away the howitzer so that the mortar could use the cleared patch of land. He waited with a heavy sense of dread, but no mortar appeared. No one appeared. Even the infantry who had been posted close to the howitzer had gone back into the trees and, for the first time since Sharpe had retreated to the watch-tower, the northern slope was deserted. Dragoons still patrolled to the east and west, but after a half-hour they too rode north toward the village.
„What’s happening?” Vicente asked.
„God knows.”
Then, suddenly, Sharpe saw the whole French force, the gun, the cavalry and the infantry, and they were all marching away down the road from Vila Real de Zedes. They must be going back to Oporto and he gazed, dumbfounded, not daring to believe what he saw. „It’s a trick,” Sharpe said, „has to be.” He gave the telescope to Vicente.
„Maybe it is peace?” Vicente suggested after he had stared at the retreating French. „Maybe the fighting really is over. Why else would they go?”
„They’re going, sir,” Harper said, „that’s all that matters.” He had taken the glass from Vicente and could see a farm wagon loaded with the French wounded.