JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
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Sharpe pulled back and turned to see a red-coated officer stepoine through the mess of books and papers. „I’m Sharpe, sir,” he acknowledged.
„Bloody Frogs are dozing,” Waters said. He was a stocky man, bow-legged from too much horse-riding, with a weather-beaten face. Sharpe guessed he was in his low forties, but looked older because his grizzled hair was gray. „They should have had a battalion and a half up here, shouldn’t they? That and a couple of gun batteries. Our enemies are dozing, Sharpe, bloody dozing.”
„You were the man I saw across the river?” Sharpe asked.
„The very same. Your Portuguese fellow came across. Smart man! So he rowed me back and now we’re floating those damned barges.” Waters grinned. „It’s heave-ho, my hearties, and if we can get the damn things afloat then we’ll have the Buffs over first, then the rest of the 1st Brigade. Should be interesting when Marshal Soult realizes we’ve sneaked in his back door, eh? Is there any liquor in the building?”
„All gone, sir.”
„Good man,” Waters said, mistakenly deducing that Sharpe himself must have removed the temptation before the arrival of the redcoats, then he stepped to the window, took a big telescope from a leather satchel hanging from his shoulder and stared at Oporto.
„So what’s happening, sir?” Sharpe asked.
„Happening? We’re running the Frogs out of Portugal! Hop hop, croak croak, and good bloody riddance to the spavined bastards. Look at it!” Waters gestured at the city. „They don’t have the first blind idea that we’re here! Your Portuguese fellow said you’d been cut off. Is that true?”
„Since the end of March.”
„Ye gods,” Waters said, „you must be out of touch!” The Colonel pulled back from the window and perched on the sill where he told Sharpe that Sir Arthur Wellesley had indeed arrived in Portugal. „He came less than three weeks ago,” Waters said, „and he’s put some snap into the troops, by God, he has! Cradock was a decent enough fellow, but he had no snap, none. So we’re on the march, Sharpe, left, right, left, right, and the devil take the hindmost. British army over there.” He oointed through the window, indicating the hidden ground beyond the high convent on the southern bank. „Bloody Frogs seem to think we’ll come by sea, so all their men are either in the city or guarding the river between the city and the sea.” Sharpe felt a twinge of guilt for not believing the woman in Barca d’Avintas who had told him exactly that.
Sharpe pulled back and turned to see a red-coated officer stepoine through the mess of books and papers. „I’m Sharpe, sir,” he acknowledged.
„Bloody Frogs are dozing,” Waters said. He was a stocky man, bow-legged from too much horse-riding, with a weather-beaten face. Sharpe guessed he was in his low forties, but looked older because his grizzled hair was gray. „They should have had a battalion and a half up here, shouldn’t they? That and a couple of gun batteries. Our enemies are dozing, Sharpe, bloody dozing.”
„You were the man I saw across the river?” Sharpe asked.
„The very same. Your Portuguese fellow came across. Smart man! So he rowed me back and now we’re floating those damned barges.” Waters grinned. „It’s heave-ho, my hearties, and if we can get the damn things afloat then we’ll have the Buffs over first, then the rest of the 1st Brigade. Should be interesting when Marshal Soult realizes we’ve sneaked in his back door, eh? Is there any liquor in the building?”
„All gone, sir.”
„Good man,” Waters said, mistakenly deducing that Sharpe himself must have removed the temptation before the arrival of the redcoats, then he stepped to the window, took a big telescope from a leather satchel hanging from his shoulder and stared at Oporto.
„So what’s happening, sir?” Sharpe asked.
„Happening? We’re running the Frogs out of Portugal! Hop hop, croak croak, and good bloody riddance to the spavined bastards. Look at it!” Waters gestured at the city. „They don’t have the first blind idea that we’re here! Your Portuguese fellow said you’d been cut off. Is that true?”
„Since the end of March.”
„Ye gods,” Waters said, „you must be out of touch!” The Colonel pulled back from the window and perched on the sill where he told Sharpe that Sir Arthur Wellesley had indeed arrived in Portugal. „He came less than three weeks ago,” Waters said, „and he’s put some snap into the troops, by God, he has! Cradock was a decent enough fellow, but he had no snap, none. So we’re on the march, Sharpe, left, right, left, right, and the devil take the hindmost. British army over there.” He oointed through the window, indicating the hidden ground beyond the high convent on the southern bank. „Bloody Frogs seem to think we’ll come by sea, so all their men are either in the city or guarding the river between the city and the sea.” Sharpe felt a twinge of guilt for not believing the woman in Barca d’Avintas who had told him exactly that.