Sharpes Havoc   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

Vicente said Barca d’Avintas was little more than an hour away, but Sharpe decided they would wait till next morning before marching again. Haifa dozen of the men were limping because their boots were rotting and Gataker, who had been wounded in the thigh, was feeling the pain. One of Vicente’s men was walking barefoot and Sharpe was thinking of doing the same because of the condition of his boots. But there was a still better reason for delay. „If the French are there,” he explained, „then I’d rather sneak up on them in the dawn. And if they’re not we’ve got all day to make some sort of raft.”

„What about us?” Vicente asked.

„You still want to go to Oporto?”

„That’s where the regiment is from,” Vicente said, „it’s home. The men are anxious. Some have families there.”

„See us to Barca d’Avintas,” Sharpe suggested, „then go home. But go the last few miles slowly, go carefully. You’ll be all right.” He did not believe that, but he could not say what he did believe.

So they rested. Picquets watched from the wood’s edge while the others slept and some time after midday, when the heat made everyone drowsy, Sharpe thought he heard thunder far away, but there were no rain clouds in sight and that meant the thunder had to be gunfire, but he could not be sure. Harper was sleeping and Sharpe wondered if he was just hearing the echo of the big Irishman’s snores, but then he thought he heard the thunder again, though it was so faint that he could just have imagined it. He nudged Harper.

„What is it?”

„I’m trying to listen,” Sharpe said.

„And I’m trying to sleep.”

„Listen!” But there was silence except for the murmur of the river and the rustle of leaves in the east wind.

Sharpe thought about taking a patrol to reconnoiter Barca d’Avintas, but decided against it. He did not want to divide his already perilously small force, and whatever dangers lurked at the village could wait till morning. At nightfall he thought he heard the thunder again, but then the wind gusted and snatched the sound away.

Dawn was silent, still, and the gently misted river looked as polished as steel. Luis, who had attached himself to Vicente’s men, had proved to be a good cobbler and had sewn up some of the more decrepit boots. He had volunteered to shave Sharpe who had shaken his head. „I’ll have a shave when we’re across the river,” he said.

„I pray you don’t grow a beard,” Vicente said, and then they marched, following a track that meandered along the high ground.