JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 208 из 242Vicente had learned that three mail carriages were going to Braga at first light and told Hogan that the vehicles were notoriously fast and would be traveling on agood road. The drivers, carrying sacks of mail that had been waiting for the French to leave before they could be delivered to Braga, happily made room for the soldiers who collapsed on the mail sacks and fell asleep.
They passed through the remnants of the city’s northern defenses in the wet halflight of dawn. The road was good, but the mail coaches were slowed because partisans had felled trees across the highway and each barricade took a half-hour or more to clear. „If the French had known Amarante had fallen,” Hogan told Sharpe, „they’d have retreated on this road and we’d never have caught them! Mind you, we don’t know that their Braga garrison has left with the rest.”
It had, and the mail arrived along with a troop of British cavalry who were welcomed by cheering inhabitants whose joy could not be dampened by the rain. Hogan, in his engineer’s blue coat, was mistaken for a French prisoner and some horse dung was thrown at him before Vicente managed to persuade the crowd that Hogan was English.
„Irish,” Hogan protested, „please.”
„Same thing,” Vicente said absentmindedly.
„Good God in his heaven,” Harper said, disgusted, then laughed because the crowd insisted on carrying Hogan on their shoulders.
The main road from Braga went north across the frontier to Ponte-vedra, but to the east a dozen tracks climbed into the hills and one of them, Vicente promised, would take them all the way to Ponte Nova, but it was the same road that the French would be trying to reach and so he warned Sharpe that they might have to take to the trackless hills. „If we are lucky,” Vicente said, „we shall be at the bridge in two days.”
„And how long to the Saltador?” Hogan asked.
„Another half-day.”
„And how long will it take the French?”
„Three days,” Vicente said, „it must take them three days.” He made the sign of the cross. „I pray it takes them three days.”
They spent the night in Braga. A cobbler repaired their boots, insisting he would take no money, and he used his best leather to make new soles that were studded with nails to give some grip in the wet high ground. He must have worked all night for in the morning he shyly presented Sharpe with leather covers for the rifles and muskets. The weapons had been protected from the rain by corks shoved into their muzzles and by ragged clouts wrapped about the locks, but the leather sheaths were far better.
They passed through the remnants of the city’s northern defenses in the wet halflight of dawn. The road was good, but the mail coaches were slowed because partisans had felled trees across the highway and each barricade took a half-hour or more to clear. „If the French had known Amarante had fallen,” Hogan told Sharpe, „they’d have retreated on this road and we’d never have caught them! Mind you, we don’t know that their Braga garrison has left with the rest.”
It had, and the mail arrived along with a troop of British cavalry who were welcomed by cheering inhabitants whose joy could not be dampened by the rain. Hogan, in his engineer’s blue coat, was mistaken for a French prisoner and some horse dung was thrown at him before Vicente managed to persuade the crowd that Hogan was English.
„Irish,” Hogan protested, „please.”
„Same thing,” Vicente said absentmindedly.
„Good God in his heaven,” Harper said, disgusted, then laughed because the crowd insisted on carrying Hogan on their shoulders.
The main road from Braga went north across the frontier to Ponte-vedra, but to the east a dozen tracks climbed into the hills and one of them, Vicente promised, would take them all the way to Ponte Nova, but it was the same road that the French would be trying to reach and so he warned Sharpe that they might have to take to the trackless hills. „If we are lucky,” Vicente said, „we shall be at the bridge in two days.”
„And how long to the Saltador?” Hogan asked.
„Another half-day.”
„And how long will it take the French?”
„Three days,” Vicente said, „it must take them three days.” He made the sign of the cross. „I pray it takes them three days.”
They spent the night in Braga. A cobbler repaired their boots, insisting he would take no money, and he used his best leather to make new soles that were studded with nails to give some grip in the wet high ground. He must have worked all night for in the morning he shyly presented Sharpe with leather covers for the rifles and muskets. The weapons had been protected from the rain by corks shoved into their muzzles and by ragged clouts wrapped about the locks, but the leather sheaths were far better.