JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 212 из 242The grass was fit only for a few tangle-haired sheep and scores of feral goats on which the mountain wolves and wildlynx fed. The only village they passed was a poor place with high rock walls about its small vegetable gardens. Goats were hobbled on pastures the size of inn yards and a few bony cattle stared at the soldiers as they passed. They climbed still higher, listening to the goat bells among the rocks and passing a small shrine heaped with faded gorse blossom. Vicente crossed himself as he passed the shrine.
They turned eastward again, following a stony ridge where the great rounded boulders would make it impossible for any cavalry to form and charge, and Sharpe kept watching southwards and saw nothing. Yet there had been horsemen, and there would be more, for he was making a rendezvous with a desperate army that had been bounced from imminent success to abject defeat in one swift day.
It was hard traveling in the hills. They rested every hour, then trudged on. All were soaked, tired and chilled. The rain was relentless and the wind had now gone into the east so that it came straight into their faces. The rifle slings rubbed their wet shoulders raw, but at least the rain lifted that afternoon, even if the wind stayed brisk and cold. At dusk, feeling as weary as he ever had on the terrible retreat to Vigo, Sharpe led them down from the ridge to a small deserted hamlet of low stone cottages roofed with turf. „Just like home,” Harper said happily. The driest places to sleep were two long, coffin-shaped granaries that protected their contents from rats by being raised on mushroom-shaped stone pillars, and most of the men crammed themselves into the narrow spaces while Sharpe, Hogan and Vicente shared the least damaged cottage where Sharpe conjured a fire from damp kindling, and brewed tea.
„The most essential skill of a soldier,” Hogan said when Sharpe brought him the tea.
„What’s that?” Vicente asked, ever eager to learn his new trade.
„Making fire from wet wood,” Hogan said.
„Aren’t you supposed to have a servant?” Sharpe asked.
„I am, but so are you, Richard.”
„I’m not one for servants,” Sharpe said.
„Nor am I,” Hogan said, „but you’ve done a grand job with that tea, Richard, and if His Majesty ever decides he doesn’t want a London rogue to be one of his officers then I’ll give you a job as a servant.”
Picquets were set, more tea brewed and moist tobacco coaxed alight in clay pipes.
They turned eastward again, following a stony ridge where the great rounded boulders would make it impossible for any cavalry to form and charge, and Sharpe kept watching southwards and saw nothing. Yet there had been horsemen, and there would be more, for he was making a rendezvous with a desperate army that had been bounced from imminent success to abject defeat in one swift day.
It was hard traveling in the hills. They rested every hour, then trudged on. All were soaked, tired and chilled. The rain was relentless and the wind had now gone into the east so that it came straight into their faces. The rifle slings rubbed their wet shoulders raw, but at least the rain lifted that afternoon, even if the wind stayed brisk and cold. At dusk, feeling as weary as he ever had on the terrible retreat to Vigo, Sharpe led them down from the ridge to a small deserted hamlet of low stone cottages roofed with turf. „Just like home,” Harper said happily. The driest places to sleep were two long, coffin-shaped granaries that protected their contents from rats by being raised on mushroom-shaped stone pillars, and most of the men crammed themselves into the narrow spaces while Sharpe, Hogan and Vicente shared the least damaged cottage where Sharpe conjured a fire from damp kindling, and brewed tea.
„The most essential skill of a soldier,” Hogan said when Sharpe brought him the tea.
„What’s that?” Vicente asked, ever eager to learn his new trade.
„Making fire from wet wood,” Hogan said.
„Aren’t you supposed to have a servant?” Sharpe asked.
„I am, but so are you, Richard.”
„I’m not one for servants,” Sharpe said.
„Nor am I,” Hogan said, „but you’ve done a grand job with that tea, Richard, and if His Majesty ever decides he doesn’t want a London rogue to be one of his officers then I’ll give you a job as a servant.”
Picquets were set, more tea brewed and moist tobacco coaxed alight in clay pipes.