Sharpes Battle   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

The Major waved at Sharpe and Donaju, thus releasing another flutter of paper. "The thing is," the Major said without any attempt to introduce himself, "that the divisions have their own ammunition parks. One or the other, I said, make up your mind! But no! Divisions will be independent! Which leaves us, you understand, with the central reserve. They call it that, though God knows it's rarely in the centre and, of course, in the very nature of things, we are never told what stocks the divisions themselves hold. They demand more, we yield, and suddenly there is none. It is a problem. Let us hope and pray the French do things worse. Is that tea?" The Major, who had a broad Scottish accent, peered hopefully at the mug in Donaju's hand.

"It is, sir," Donaju said, "but foul."

"Let me taste it, I beg you. Thank you. Pick up that paper, Magog, the day's battle may depend upon it. Gog and Magog," he introduced the two hapless privates. "Gog is bereft one arm, Magog one leg, and both the rogues are Welsh. Together they are a Welshman and a half, and the three of us, or two and a half if I am to be exact, comprise the entire staff complement of the central reserve." The Major smiled suddenly. "Alexander Tarrant," he introduced himself. "Major in the artillery but seconded to the Quartermaster General's staff. I think of myself as the Assistant-Assistant-Assistant Quartermaster General, and you, I suspect, are the new Assistant-Assistant-Assistant-Assistant Quartermaster Generals? Which means that Gog and Magog are now Assistant-Assistant-Assistant-Assistant-Assistant Quartermaster Generals. Demoted, by God! Will their careers ever recover? This tea is delicious, though tepid. You must be Captain Sharpe?"

"Yes, sir."

"An honour, Sharpe, 'pon my soul, an honour." Tarrant thrust out a hand, thus releasing a cascade of paper. "Heard about the dickie-bird, Sharpe, and confess I was moved mightily." It took Sharpe half a second to realize that Tarrant was talking about the eagle that Sharpe had captured at Talavera, but before he could respond the Major was already talking again. "And you must be Donaju of the royal guard? 'Pon my soul, Gog, but we're in elevated company! You'll have to mind your manners today!"

"Private Hughes, sir," Gog introduced himself to Sharpe, "and that's my brother." He gestured with his one arm at Magog.

"The Hughes brothers," Tarrant explained, "were wounded in their country's service and reduced to my servitude. Till now, Sharpe, they have been the sole guard for the ammunition. Gog would kick intruders and Magog shake his crutch at them.