JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 143 из 244"
"Half of the men would be dead of the yellow fever within three months of arriving in the islands," Sharpe explained, "and the other half dead within six months. Being posted to the Caribbean, Donaju, is a death sentence." He looked at Juanita. "So whose idea was it, my lady?"
She said nothing, just chewed on the fingernail. El Castrador shouted at her for her obstinacy and untied the small knife from his belt. Donaju blanched at the stream of obscenities and tried to restrain the big man's anger.
"Well, the story isn't true," Sharpe interrupted the commotion. "For a start we wouldn't be so daft as to take the Irish soldiers away from the army. Who'd win the battles else?"
Harper and Donaju smiled. Sharpe felt a quiet exultation, for if this discovery did not justify his breaking orders and marching on San Cristobal, nothing would. He made a pile of the newspapers, then looked at Donaju. "Why don't you send someone back to headquarters. Find Major Hogan, tell him what's here and ask him what we should be doing."
"I'll go myself," Donaju said, "but what will you do?"
"I have a few things to do here first," Sharpe said, looking at Juanita as he spoke. "Like discovering where Loup is, and why he left in such a hurry."
Juanita bridled. "I have nothing to say to you, Captain."
"Then maybe you'll say it to him." He jerked his head towards El Castrador.
Juanita gave a fearful glance at the partisan, then looked back at Sharpe. "When did British officers cease to be gentlemen, Captain?"
"When we began to win battles, ma'am," Sharpe said. "So who's it to be? Me or him?"
Donaju looked as though he might make a protest at Sharpe's behaviour, then he saw the rifleman's grim face and thought better of it. "I'll take a newspaper to Hogan," he said quietly, then folded the counterfeit Morning Chronicle into his pouch and backed from the room. Harper went with him and closed the kitchen door firmly behind him.
"Don't you worry, sir," Harper said to Donaju once they were in the yard. "I'll look after the lady now."
"You will?"
"I'll dig her a nice deep grave, sir, and bury the witch upside down so that the harder she struggles the deeper she'll go. Have a safe ride back to the lines, sir."
Donaju blanched, then went to find his horse while Harper shouted at Perkins to find some water, make a fire and brew a good strong morning cup of tea.
"You're in trouble, Richard," Hogan said when he finally reached Sharpe. It was early evening of the day which had begun with Sharpe's stealthy approach to Loup's abandoned stronghold. "You're in trouble. You've been shooting prisoners.
"Half of the men would be dead of the yellow fever within three months of arriving in the islands," Sharpe explained, "and the other half dead within six months. Being posted to the Caribbean, Donaju, is a death sentence." He looked at Juanita. "So whose idea was it, my lady?"
She said nothing, just chewed on the fingernail. El Castrador shouted at her for her obstinacy and untied the small knife from his belt. Donaju blanched at the stream of obscenities and tried to restrain the big man's anger.
"Well, the story isn't true," Sharpe interrupted the commotion. "For a start we wouldn't be so daft as to take the Irish soldiers away from the army. Who'd win the battles else?"
Harper and Donaju smiled. Sharpe felt a quiet exultation, for if this discovery did not justify his breaking orders and marching on San Cristobal, nothing would. He made a pile of the newspapers, then looked at Donaju. "Why don't you send someone back to headquarters. Find Major Hogan, tell him what's here and ask him what we should be doing."
"I'll go myself," Donaju said, "but what will you do?"
"I have a few things to do here first," Sharpe said, looking at Juanita as he spoke. "Like discovering where Loup is, and why he left in such a hurry."
Juanita bridled. "I have nothing to say to you, Captain."
"Then maybe you'll say it to him." He jerked his head towards El Castrador.
Juanita gave a fearful glance at the partisan, then looked back at Sharpe. "When did British officers cease to be gentlemen, Captain?"
"When we began to win battles, ma'am," Sharpe said. "So who's it to be? Me or him?"
Donaju looked as though he might make a protest at Sharpe's behaviour, then he saw the rifleman's grim face and thought better of it. "I'll take a newspaper to Hogan," he said quietly, then folded the counterfeit Morning Chronicle into his pouch and backed from the room. Harper went with him and closed the kitchen door firmly behind him.
"Don't you worry, sir," Harper said to Donaju once they were in the yard. "I'll look after the lady now."
"You will?"
"I'll dig her a nice deep grave, sir, and bury the witch upside down so that the harder she struggles the deeper she'll go. Have a safe ride back to the lines, sir."
Donaju blanched, then went to find his horse while Harper shouted at Perkins to find some water, make a fire and brew a good strong morning cup of tea.
"You're in trouble, Richard," Hogan said when he finally reached Sharpe. It was early evening of the day which had begun with Sharpe's stealthy approach to Loup's abandoned stronghold. "You're in trouble. You've been shooting prisoners.