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Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 177 из 244"We just happened to find ourselves down there," he said dismissively.
"But you took an eagle, Sharpe!" Tarrant protested. "What more gallantry do you need to display?"
"A lot, sir." Sharpe winced as his sore shoulder gave a stab of pain. "I'm not rich, sir, so I can't buy a captaincy, let alone a majority, so I have to survive by merit. And a soldier's only as good as his last battle, sir, and my last battle was San Isidro. I have to wipe that out."
Donaju frowned. "It was my only battle," he said softly and to no one but himself.
Tarrant scorned Sharpe's pessimism. "Are you saying, Sharpe, that you have to perform some ridiculous act of heroism to survive?"
"Yes, sir. Exactly that, sir. So if you've got some horrid errand tomorrow then I want it."
"Good God, man." Tarrant was appalled. "Good God! Send you to your death? I can't do that!"
Sharpe smiled. "What were you doing seventeen years ago, sir?"
Tarrant thought for a second or two. "Ninety-four? Let's see now… " He counted off on his fingers for another few seconds. "I was still at school. Construing Horace in a gloomy schoolroom beneath the walls of Stirling Castle and being beaten every time I made an error."
"I was fighting the French, sir," Sharpe said. "And I've been fighting one bugger or another ever since, so don't you worry about me."
"Even so, Sharpe, even so." Tarrant frowned and shook his head. "Do you like kidney?"
"Love it, sir."
"It's all yours." Tarrant handed his plate to Sharpe. "Get your strength up, Sharpe, it seems you might need it." He twisted around to look at the red flame glow that lit the night above the fires of the French encampments. "Unless they don't attack," he said wistfully.
"The buggers aren't going away, sir, until we drive them away," Sharpe said. "Today was just a skirmish. The real battle hasn't started yet, so the Crapauds will be back, sir, they'll be back."
They slept close to the ammunition wagons. Sharpe woke once as a small shower hissed in the embers of the fire, then slept again until an hour before dawn. He awoke to see a small mist clinging to the plateau and blurring the grey shapes of soldiers tending their fires. Sharpe shared a pot of hot shaving water with Major Tarrant, then pulled on his jacket and weapons and walked westwards in search of a cavalry regiment. He found an encampment of hussars from the King's German Legion and exchanged a half-pint of issue rum for an edge on his sword.
"But you took an eagle, Sharpe!" Tarrant protested. "What more gallantry do you need to display?"
"A lot, sir." Sharpe winced as his sore shoulder gave a stab of pain. "I'm not rich, sir, so I can't buy a captaincy, let alone a majority, so I have to survive by merit. And a soldier's only as good as his last battle, sir, and my last battle was San Isidro. I have to wipe that out."
Donaju frowned. "It was my only battle," he said softly and to no one but himself.
Tarrant scorned Sharpe's pessimism. "Are you saying, Sharpe, that you have to perform some ridiculous act of heroism to survive?"
"Yes, sir. Exactly that, sir. So if you've got some horrid errand tomorrow then I want it."
"Good God, man." Tarrant was appalled. "Good God! Send you to your death? I can't do that!"
Sharpe smiled. "What were you doing seventeen years ago, sir?"
Tarrant thought for a second or two. "Ninety-four? Let's see now… " He counted off on his fingers for another few seconds. "I was still at school. Construing Horace in a gloomy schoolroom beneath the walls of Stirling Castle and being beaten every time I made an error."
"I was fighting the French, sir," Sharpe said. "And I've been fighting one bugger or another ever since, so don't you worry about me."
"Even so, Sharpe, even so." Tarrant frowned and shook his head. "Do you like kidney?"
"Love it, sir."
"It's all yours." Tarrant handed his plate to Sharpe. "Get your strength up, Sharpe, it seems you might need it." He twisted around to look at the red flame glow that lit the night above the fires of the French encampments. "Unless they don't attack," he said wistfully.
"The buggers aren't going away, sir, until we drive them away," Sharpe said. "Today was just a skirmish. The real battle hasn't started yet, so the Crapauds will be back, sir, they'll be back."
They slept close to the ammunition wagons. Sharpe woke once as a small shower hissed in the embers of the fire, then slept again until an hour before dawn. He awoke to see a small mist clinging to the plateau and blurring the grey shapes of soldiers tending their fires. Sharpe shared a pot of hot shaving water with Major Tarrant, then pulled on his jacket and weapons and walked westwards in search of a cavalry regiment. He found an encampment of hussars from the King's German Legion and exchanged a half-pint of issue rum for an edge on his sword.