JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 184 из 242TheBuffs had relit the fires in the kitchens and now fetched great metal cauldrons of tea or hot water to the roof. The tea cleaned out the soldiers’ throats and the hot water swilled out their muskets and rifles. Ten boxes of spare ammunition were also carried up and Harper filled his shako with the cartridges, which were not as fine as those supplied for the rifles, but would do in a pinch. „And this is what you call a pinch, sir, eh?” he asked, distributing the cartridges along the parapet where the rifles and ramrods leaned. The French were thickening in the low ground to the north. If they had any sense, Sharpe thought, the enemy would bring mortars to that low ground, but so far none had appeared. Perhaps all the mortars were to the west of the city, guarding against the Royal Navy, and too far away to be fetched quickly.
Extra loopholes were battered through the garden’s northern wall. Two of the Northamptonshires had manhandled a great pair of rain butts to the wall and propped the door of the garden shed across the barrels’ tops to make a fire step from which they could shoot over the wall’s coping.
Harris brought Sharpe a mug of tea, then looked left and right before producing a leg of cold chicken from his cartridge box. „Thought you might like this as well, sir.”
„Where did you get it?”
„Found it, sir,” Harris said vaguely, „and I got one for you too, Sarge.” Harris gave a leg to Harper, then produced a breast for himself, brushed some loose powder from it and bit into it hungrily.
Sharpe discovered he was famished and the chicken tasted delicious. „Where did it come from?” he insisted.
„I think they were General Paget’s dinner, sir,” Harris confessed, „but he’s probably lost his appetite.”
„I should think he has,” Sharpe said, „and a pity to let good chicken waste, eh?” He turned as a drumbeat sounded and saw the French were forming their ranks again, but this time only on the northern side of the seminary. „To your places!” he called, chucking the chicken bone far out into the garden. A few of the French were now carrying ladders, presumably plundered from the houses that were being battered by the British guns. „When they come,” he called, „aim for the men with the ladders.” Even without the rifle fire he doubted the French could get close enough to place the ladders against the garden wall, but it did no harm to make certain.
Extra loopholes were battered through the garden’s northern wall. Two of the Northamptonshires had manhandled a great pair of rain butts to the wall and propped the door of the garden shed across the barrels’ tops to make a fire step from which they could shoot over the wall’s coping.
Harris brought Sharpe a mug of tea, then looked left and right before producing a leg of cold chicken from his cartridge box. „Thought you might like this as well, sir.”
„Where did you get it?”
„Found it, sir,” Harris said vaguely, „and I got one for you too, Sarge.” Harris gave a leg to Harper, then produced a breast for himself, brushed some loose powder from it and bit into it hungrily.
Sharpe discovered he was famished and the chicken tasted delicious. „Where did it come from?” he insisted.
„I think they were General Paget’s dinner, sir,” Harris confessed, „but he’s probably lost his appetite.”
„I should think he has,” Sharpe said, „and a pity to let good chicken waste, eh?” He turned as a drumbeat sounded and saw the French were forming their ranks again, but this time only on the northern side of the seminary. „To your places!” he called, chucking the chicken bone far out into the garden. A few of the French were now carrying ladders, presumably plundered from the houses that were being battered by the British guns. „When they come,” he called, „aim for the men with the ladders.” Even without the rifle fire he doubted the French could get close enough to place the ladders against the garden wall, but it did no harm to make certain.