JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 39 из 242„Dan!” he called to Hagman. „Put the wounded ones out of their misery. Pendleton! Harris! Cresacre! Over there!” He pointed the three men toward the wall on the paddock’s western side. The dragoons had fled that way and Sharpe guessed they had taken refuge in some trees that stood thick just a hundred paces away. Three picquets were not enough to cope with even a half-hearted counterattack by the French so Sharpe knew he would have to strengthen those picquets soon, but first he wanted to make sure there were no dragoons skulking in the houses, gardens and orchards of the village.
Barca d’Avintas was a small place, a straggle of houses built about the road that ran down to the river where a short jetty should have accommodated the ferry, but some of the smoke Sharpe had seen earlier was coming from a barge-like vessel with a blunt bow and a dozen rowlocks.
Now it was smoking in the water, its upper works burned almost to the waterline and its lower hull holed and sunken. Sharpe stared at the useless boat, looked across the river that was over a hundred yards broad and then swore.
Harper appeared beside him, his rifle slung. „Jesus,” he said, staring at the ferry, „that’s not a lot of good to man or beast, is it now?”
„Any of our boys hurt?”
„Not a one, sir, not even a scratch. The Portuguese are the same, all alive. They did well, didn’t they?” He looked at the burning boat again. „Sweet Jesus, was that the ferry?”
„It was Noah’s bloody ark,” Sharpe snapped. „What do you goddamned think it was?” He was angry because he had hoped to use the ferry to get all his men safe across the Douro, but now it seemed he was stranded. He stalked away, then turned back just in time to see Harper making a face at him. „Have you found the taverns?” he asked, ignoring the grimace.
„Not yet, sir,” Harper said.
„Then find them, put a guard on them, then send a dozen more men to the far side of the paddock.”
„Yes, sir!”
The French had set more fires among sheds on the river bank and Sharpe now ducked beneath the billowing smoke to kick open half-burned doors. There was a pile of tarred nets smoldering in one shed, but in the next there was a black-painted skiff with a fine spiked bow that curved up like a hook. The shed had been fired, but the flames had not reached the skiff and Sharpe managed to drag it halfway out of the door before Lieutenant Vicente arrived and helped him pull the boat all the way out of the smoke.
Barca d’Avintas was a small place, a straggle of houses built about the road that ran down to the river where a short jetty should have accommodated the ferry, but some of the smoke Sharpe had seen earlier was coming from a barge-like vessel with a blunt bow and a dozen rowlocks.
Now it was smoking in the water, its upper works burned almost to the waterline and its lower hull holed and sunken. Sharpe stared at the useless boat, looked across the river that was over a hundred yards broad and then swore.
Harper appeared beside him, his rifle slung. „Jesus,” he said, staring at the ferry, „that’s not a lot of good to man or beast, is it now?”
„Any of our boys hurt?”
„Not a one, sir, not even a scratch. The Portuguese are the same, all alive. They did well, didn’t they?” He looked at the burning boat again. „Sweet Jesus, was that the ferry?”
„It was Noah’s bloody ark,” Sharpe snapped. „What do you goddamned think it was?” He was angry because he had hoped to use the ferry to get all his men safe across the Douro, but now it seemed he was stranded. He stalked away, then turned back just in time to see Harper making a face at him. „Have you found the taverns?” he asked, ignoring the grimace.
„Not yet, sir,” Harper said.
„Then find them, put a guard on them, then send a dozen more men to the far side of the paddock.”
„Yes, sir!”
The French had set more fires among sheds on the river bank and Sharpe now ducked beneath the billowing smoke to kick open half-burned doors. There was a pile of tarred nets smoldering in one shed, but in the next there was a black-painted skiff with a fine spiked bow that curved up like a hook. The shed had been fired, but the flames had not reached the skiff and Sharpe managed to drag it halfway out of the door before Lieutenant Vicente arrived and helped him pull the boat all the way out of the smoke.