JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 228 из 244Now for Christ's sake! Doit!" he shouted at Runciman as though the Colonel was a raw recruit.
Runciman looked startled. "You'll come with me, Sharpe?" He was as frightened of approaching Wellington as he was of going towards the enemy.
"Come on!" Sharpe snapped, and led a flustered Runciman towards the sombre knot of staff officers who surrounded Wellington. Hogan was there, watching anxiously as the tide of struggle in the village turned against the allies once again. The French were inching uphill, forcing the redcoats and the Portuguese and the German infantry back out of the village, only this time there were no ranks of muskets waiting at the crest of the ridge to blast the enemy as they climbed the road and overran the churned-up graveyard.
Runciman hung back as the two men reached the staff officers, but Sharpe pushed his way through the horses and dragged the reluctant Colonel with him. "Ask him," Sharpe said.
Wellington heard the words and frowned at the two men. Colonel Runciman hesitated, snatched off his hat, tried to speak and only managed an incoherent stutter.
"General Runciman wants permission, my Lord— Sharpe began coldly.
"— To take the Irish into battle." Runciman managed to complete the sentence in a barely coherent rush. "Please, my Lord!"
Some of the staff officers smiled at the thought of the Wagon Master General leading troops, but Wellington twisted in his saddle to see that the red-jacketed Real Companпa Irlandesa had formed column. It looked a pathetically small unit, but it was there, formed, armed and evidently eager. There was no one else. The General looked at Sharpe and raised an eyebrow. Sharpe nodded.
"Carry on, Runciman," Wellington said.
"Come on, sir." Sharpe plucked the fat man's sleeve to pull him away from the General.
"One moment!" The General's voice was frigid. "Captain Sharpe?"
Sharpe turned back. "My Lord?"
"The reason, Captain Sharpe, why we do not execute enemy prisoners, no matter how vile their behaviour, is that the enemy will reciprocate the favour on our men, no matter how small their provocation." The General looked at Sharpe with an eye as cold as a winter stream. "Do I make myself clear, Captain Sharpe."
"Yes, sir. My Lord."
Wellington gave a very small nod. "Go."
Sharpe dragged Runciman away. "Come on, sir!"
"What do I do, Sharpe?" Runciman asked. "For God's sake, what do I do? I'm not a fighter!"
"Stay at the back, sir," Sharpe said, "and leave everything else to me." Sharpe scraped his long sword free.
Runciman looked startled. "You'll come with me, Sharpe?" He was as frightened of approaching Wellington as he was of going towards the enemy.
"Come on!" Sharpe snapped, and led a flustered Runciman towards the sombre knot of staff officers who surrounded Wellington. Hogan was there, watching anxiously as the tide of struggle in the village turned against the allies once again. The French were inching uphill, forcing the redcoats and the Portuguese and the German infantry back out of the village, only this time there were no ranks of muskets waiting at the crest of the ridge to blast the enemy as they climbed the road and overran the churned-up graveyard.
Runciman hung back as the two men reached the staff officers, but Sharpe pushed his way through the horses and dragged the reluctant Colonel with him. "Ask him," Sharpe said.
Wellington heard the words and frowned at the two men. Colonel Runciman hesitated, snatched off his hat, tried to speak and only managed an incoherent stutter.
"General Runciman wants permission, my Lord— Sharpe began coldly.
"— To take the Irish into battle." Runciman managed to complete the sentence in a barely coherent rush. "Please, my Lord!"
Some of the staff officers smiled at the thought of the Wagon Master General leading troops, but Wellington twisted in his saddle to see that the red-jacketed Real Companпa Irlandesa had formed column. It looked a pathetically small unit, but it was there, formed, armed and evidently eager. There was no one else. The General looked at Sharpe and raised an eyebrow. Sharpe nodded.
"Carry on, Runciman," Wellington said.
"Come on, sir." Sharpe plucked the fat man's sleeve to pull him away from the General.
"One moment!" The General's voice was frigid. "Captain Sharpe?"
Sharpe turned back. "My Lord?"
"The reason, Captain Sharpe, why we do not execute enemy prisoners, no matter how vile their behaviour, is that the enemy will reciprocate the favour on our men, no matter how small their provocation." The General looked at Sharpe with an eye as cold as a winter stream. "Do I make myself clear, Captain Sharpe."
"Yes, sir. My Lord."
Wellington gave a very small nod. "Go."
Sharpe dragged Runciman away. "Come on, sir!"
"What do I do, Sharpe?" Runciman asked. "For God's sake, what do I do? I'm not a fighter!"
"Stay at the back, sir," Sharpe said, "and leave everything else to me." Sharpe scraped his long sword free.