JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 59 из 213They knew him well, the Riflemen had spent weeks with him before they were forcibly joined to the South Essex, the redcoats remembered him from Badajoz or nights when he had come to seek Sharpe’s companionship. The Irish Major looked at Sharpe, turned his back to the men, and made a resigned gesture. “Good luck to you.”
“Not good?”
“No.” Hogan sniffed. “Some idiot messed up the ammunition supply. We’ve got about fifteen rounds for each gun! What the hell use is that?”
Sharpe knew he meant the big eighteen pounders. “What about the howitzers?”
Hogan had taken out his snuff box and Sharpe waited while the Major inhaled his usual huge pinch. He sneezed. “God and his Angels!” He sneezed again. “Bloody howitzers! They’re not denting the bloody place! A hundred and sixty rounds for six guns. It’s no way to run a war!”
“You’re not hopeful.”
“Hopeful?” Hogan waited as an eighteen pounder fired one of its precious, dwindling ammunition stock. “No. But we’ve persuaded the Peer to attack just the centre fort. We’re firing at that.”
“The San Cayetano?”
Hogan nodded. “If we can grab that, then we can build our own batteries there and hammer the others.” He shrugged. “Surprise is everything, Richard. If they don’t expect us…‘ He shrugged again.
“Leroux may not be in the San Cayetano.”
“He probably isn’t. He’s probably in the big one. But you never know. They may all surrender if the middle one falls.”
Sharpe reflected that it could be a long night. If the other forts did decide that resistance was futile then the surrender negotiations could take hours. There were, he guessed, a thousand men in the three garrisons and they would be difficult to search in the darkness. He glanced ruefully at the Palacio Casares behind him. There was a chance, a good chance, that he would never manage to arrive on time. Hogan caught the glance. “You invited?”
“To the celebration? Yes.”
“So’s the whole damned town. I just hope there’s something to celebrate.”
Sharpe grinned. “We’ll surprise them.” He looked round to see his Company being marched into an alleyway and he gestured at their backs. “I must go.”
Three hundred and fifty men, the Light Companies of two brigades of the Sixth Division, were crammed into a street that ran behind the houses facing the wasteland. It was the closest cover to the centre fort, the San Cayetano, but no one, apart from a handful of officers, was allowed to look at the ground they had to cover. Surprise was everything. There were twenty ladders, each surrounded by its carrying party, and they would be the first to rush the two hundred yards towards the fort’s ditch.
“Not good?”
“No.” Hogan sniffed. “Some idiot messed up the ammunition supply. We’ve got about fifteen rounds for each gun! What the hell use is that?”
Sharpe knew he meant the big eighteen pounders. “What about the howitzers?”
Hogan had taken out his snuff box and Sharpe waited while the Major inhaled his usual huge pinch. He sneezed. “God and his Angels!” He sneezed again. “Bloody howitzers! They’re not denting the bloody place! A hundred and sixty rounds for six guns. It’s no way to run a war!”
“You’re not hopeful.”
“Hopeful?” Hogan waited as an eighteen pounder fired one of its precious, dwindling ammunition stock. “No. But we’ve persuaded the Peer to attack just the centre fort. We’re firing at that.”
“The San Cayetano?”
Hogan nodded. “If we can grab that, then we can build our own batteries there and hammer the others.” He shrugged. “Surprise is everything, Richard. If they don’t expect us…‘ He shrugged again.
“Leroux may not be in the San Cayetano.”
“He probably isn’t. He’s probably in the big one. But you never know. They may all surrender if the middle one falls.”
Sharpe reflected that it could be a long night. If the other forts did decide that resistance was futile then the surrender negotiations could take hours. There were, he guessed, a thousand men in the three garrisons and they would be difficult to search in the darkness. He glanced ruefully at the Palacio Casares behind him. There was a chance, a good chance, that he would never manage to arrive on time. Hogan caught the glance. “You invited?”
“To the celebration? Yes.”
“So’s the whole damned town. I just hope there’s something to celebrate.”
Sharpe grinned. “We’ll surprise them.” He looked round to see his Company being marched into an alleyway and he gestured at their backs. “I must go.”
Three hundred and fifty men, the Light Companies of two brigades of the Sixth Division, were crammed into a street that ran behind the houses facing the wasteland. It was the closest cover to the centre fort, the San Cayetano, but no one, apart from a handful of officers, was allowed to look at the ground they had to cover. Surprise was everything. There were twenty ladders, each surrounded by its carrying party, and they would be the first to rush the two hundred yards towards the fort’s ditch.