JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 80 из 244He kicked at the wall's base and one of the larger stones shifted perceptibly. "There's no bloody mortar there!" he said.
"There wasn't enough water in the mix," Harper explained. He took a deep breath, then, realizing that his companions would not speak up, took the plunge himself. "We wanted to see you, sir. It's important, sir."
Sharpe clambered back up to the ramparts and brushed his hands together. "Is it about the new muskets?"
"No, sir. The muskets are just grand, sir."
"The training?"
"No, sir."
"Then the man you want to see is Colonel Runciman," Sharpe said curtly. "Call him «General» and he'll give you anything." Sharpe was deliberately dissembling. He knew exactly why the delegation was here, but he had small appetite for their worries. "Talk to Runciman after breakfast and he'll be in a good enough mood," he said.
"We've spoken to the Colonel," Captain Donaju spoke at last, "and the Colonel said we should speak with you."
Father Sarsfield smiled. "I think we knew he would say that, Captain, when we approached him. I don't think Colonel Runciman is particularly sympathetic to the problems of Ireland."
Sharpe looked from Sarsfield to Donaju, from Donaju to Lacy, then from Lacy to the sullen faces of the four rank and file guardsmen. "So it's about Ireland, is it?" Sharpe said. "Well, go on. I haven't got any other problems to solve today."
The chaplain ignored the sarcasm, offering Sharpe a folded newspaper instead. "It is about that, Captain Sharpe," Sarsfield said respectfully.
Sharpe took the paper which, to his surprise, came from Philadelphia. The front page was a dense mass of black type: lists of ships arriving or departing from the city wharves; news from Europe; reports of Congress and tales of Indian atrocities suffered by settlers in the western territories.
"It's at the bottom of the page," Donaju offered.
" 'The Melancholy Effects of Intemperance'?" Sharpe read a headline aloud.
"No, Sharpe. Just before that," Donaju said, and Sharpe sighed as he read the words "New Massacres in Ireland". What followed was a more lurid version of the tale Runciman had already told Sharpe: a catalogue of rape and slaughter, of innocent children cut down by English dragoons and of praying women dragged out of houses by drink-crazed grenadiers. The newspaper claimed that the ghosts of Cromwell's troopers had come back to life to turn Ireland into a blood-drenched misery again.
"There wasn't enough water in the mix," Harper explained. He took a deep breath, then, realizing that his companions would not speak up, took the plunge himself. "We wanted to see you, sir. It's important, sir."
Sharpe clambered back up to the ramparts and brushed his hands together. "Is it about the new muskets?"
"No, sir. The muskets are just grand, sir."
"The training?"
"No, sir."
"Then the man you want to see is Colonel Runciman," Sharpe said curtly. "Call him «General» and he'll give you anything." Sharpe was deliberately dissembling. He knew exactly why the delegation was here, but he had small appetite for their worries. "Talk to Runciman after breakfast and he'll be in a good enough mood," he said.
"We've spoken to the Colonel," Captain Donaju spoke at last, "and the Colonel said we should speak with you."
Father Sarsfield smiled. "I think we knew he would say that, Captain, when we approached him. I don't think Colonel Runciman is particularly sympathetic to the problems of Ireland."
Sharpe looked from Sarsfield to Donaju, from Donaju to Lacy, then from Lacy to the sullen faces of the four rank and file guardsmen. "So it's about Ireland, is it?" Sharpe said. "Well, go on. I haven't got any other problems to solve today."
The chaplain ignored the sarcasm, offering Sharpe a folded newspaper instead. "It is about that, Captain Sharpe," Sarsfield said respectfully.
Sharpe took the paper which, to his surprise, came from Philadelphia. The front page was a dense mass of black type: lists of ships arriving or departing from the city wharves; news from Europe; reports of Congress and tales of Indian atrocities suffered by settlers in the western territories.
"It's at the bottom of the page," Donaju offered.
" 'The Melancholy Effects of Intemperance'?" Sharpe read a headline aloud.
"No, Sharpe. Just before that," Donaju said, and Sharpe sighed as he read the words "New Massacres in Ireland". What followed was a more lurid version of the tale Runciman had already told Sharpe: a catalogue of rape and slaughter, of innocent children cut down by English dragoons and of praying women dragged out of houses by drink-crazed grenadiers. The newspaper claimed that the ghosts of Cromwell's troopers had come back to life to turn Ireland into a blood-drenched misery again.