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Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 6 из 242„You don’tlike it over the ears, ain’t that right?”
„I like it short, Dan.”
„Short like a good sermon, sir,” Hagman said. „Now keep still, sir, just keep still.” There was a sudden stab of pain as Hagman speared a louse with the scissors’ blade. He spat on the drop of blood that showed on Sharpe’s scalp, then wiped it away. „So the Crapauds will get the city, sir?”
„Looks like it,” Sharpe said.
„And they’ll march on Lisbon next?” Hagman asked, cutting away.
„Long way to Lisbon,” Sharpe said.
„Maybe, sir, but there’s an awful lot of them, sir, and precious few of us.”
„But they say Wellesley’s coming here,” Sharpe said.
„As you keep telling us, sir,” Hagman said, „but is he really a miracle worker?”
„You fought at Copenhagen, Dan,” Sharpe said, „and down the coast here.” He meant the battles at Rolica and Vimeiro. „You could see for yourself.”
„From the skirmish line, sir, all generals are the same,” Hagman said, „and who knows if Sir Arthur’s really coming?” It was, after all, only a rumor that Sir Arthur Wellesley was taking over from General Cradock and not everyone believed it. Many thought the British would withdraw, ought to withdraw, that they should give up the game and let the French have Portugal. „Turn your head to the right,” Hagman said. The scissors clicked busily, not even pausing as a round shot buried itself in the church at the hill’s top. A mist of dust showed beside the whitewashed bell tower down which a crack had suddenly appeared. The Portuguese cavalry had been swallowed by the gun smoke and a trumpet called far away. There was a burst of musketry, then silence. A building must have been burning beyond the crest for there was a great smear of smoke drifting westward. „Why would someone call their home the House Beautiful?” Hagman wondered.
„Didn’t know you could read, Dan,” Sharpe said.
„I can’t, sir, but Isaiah read it to me.”
„Tongue!” Sharpe called. „Why would someone call their home House Beautiful?”
Isaiah Tongue, long and thin and dark and educated, who had joined the army because he was a drunk and thereby lost his respectable job, grinned. „Because he’s a good Protestant, sir.”
„Because he’s a bloody what?”
„It’s from a book by John Bunyan,” Tongue explained, „called Pilgrim’s Progress.”
„I’ve heard of that,” Sharpe said.
„I like it short, Dan.”
„Short like a good sermon, sir,” Hagman said. „Now keep still, sir, just keep still.” There was a sudden stab of pain as Hagman speared a louse with the scissors’ blade. He spat on the drop of blood that showed on Sharpe’s scalp, then wiped it away. „So the Crapauds will get the city, sir?”
„Looks like it,” Sharpe said.
„And they’ll march on Lisbon next?” Hagman asked, cutting away.
„Long way to Lisbon,” Sharpe said.
„Maybe, sir, but there’s an awful lot of them, sir, and precious few of us.”
„But they say Wellesley’s coming here,” Sharpe said.
„As you keep telling us, sir,” Hagman said, „but is he really a miracle worker?”
„You fought at Copenhagen, Dan,” Sharpe said, „and down the coast here.” He meant the battles at Rolica and Vimeiro. „You could see for yourself.”
„From the skirmish line, sir, all generals are the same,” Hagman said, „and who knows if Sir Arthur’s really coming?” It was, after all, only a rumor that Sir Arthur Wellesley was taking over from General Cradock and not everyone believed it. Many thought the British would withdraw, ought to withdraw, that they should give up the game and let the French have Portugal. „Turn your head to the right,” Hagman said. The scissors clicked busily, not even pausing as a round shot buried itself in the church at the hill’s top. A mist of dust showed beside the whitewashed bell tower down which a crack had suddenly appeared. The Portuguese cavalry had been swallowed by the gun smoke and a trumpet called far away. There was a burst of musketry, then silence. A building must have been burning beyond the crest for there was a great smear of smoke drifting westward. „Why would someone call their home the House Beautiful?” Hagman wondered.
„Didn’t know you could read, Dan,” Sharpe said.
„I can’t, sir, but Isaiah read it to me.”
„Tongue!” Sharpe called. „Why would someone call their home House Beautiful?”
Isaiah Tongue, long and thin and dark and educated, who had joined the army because he was a drunk and thereby lost his respectable job, grinned. „Because he’s a good Protestant, sir.”
„Because he’s a bloody what?”
„It’s from a book by John Bunyan,” Tongue explained, „called Pilgrim’s Progress.”
„I’ve heard of that,” Sharpe said.