JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 82 из 244"Ten? Fifteen? And not one of those men thought to tellus about his sister being raped or his mother being buggered witless by some dragoon? Yet suddenly some bloody American newspaper knows all about it?" Sharpe had addressed his words to Harper more than to the others, for Harper alone could be expected to know how frequently replacement drafts arrived from Ireland. "Come on, Pat! It doesn't make bloody sense, and if you don't believe me then I'll give you a pass and you can go down to the main camps and find some newly arrived Irishmen and ask them for news of home. Maybe you'll believe them if you don't believe me."
Harper looked at the date on the paper, thought about Sharpe's words, and nodded reluctantly. "It doesn't make sense, sir, you're right. But not everything in this world needs to make sense."
"Of course it bloody does," Sharpe snapped. "That's how you and I live. We're practical men, Pat, not bloody dreamers! We believe in the Baker rifle, the Tower musket and twenty-three inches of bayonet. You can leave superstitions to women and children, and these things" — he slapped the newspaper — "are worse than superstitions. They're downright lies!" He looked at Donaju. "Your job, Captain, is to go to your men and tell them that they're lies. And if you don't believe me then you ride down to the camps. Go to the Connaught Rangers and ask their new recruits. Go to the Inniskillings. Go wherever you like, but be back here by dusk. And in the meantime, Captain, tell your men they've got a full day of musket training. Loading and firing till their shoulders are raw meat. Is that clear?"
The men from the Real Companпa Irlandesa nodded reluctantly. Sharpe had won the argument, at least until the evening when Donaju returned from his reconnaissance. Father Sarsfield took the paper from Sharpe. "Are you saying this is a forgery?" the priest asked.
"How would I know, Father? I'm just saying it isn't true. Where did you get it?"
Sarsfield shrugged. "They're scattered throughout the army, Sharpe."
"And when did you and I ever see a newspaper from America, Pat?" Sharpe asked Harper. "And funny, isn't it, that the first one we ever see is all about Britain being bloody to Ireland? It smacks of mischief to me."
Father Sarsfield folded the paper. "I think you're probably right, Sharpe, and praise be to God for it. But you won't mind, will you, if I ride with Captain Donaju today?"
"It isn't up to me what you do, Father," Sharpe said. "But for the rest of you, let's get to work!"
Sharpe waited while the delegation left.
Harper looked at the date on the paper, thought about Sharpe's words, and nodded reluctantly. "It doesn't make sense, sir, you're right. But not everything in this world needs to make sense."
"Of course it bloody does," Sharpe snapped. "That's how you and I live. We're practical men, Pat, not bloody dreamers! We believe in the Baker rifle, the Tower musket and twenty-three inches of bayonet. You can leave superstitions to women and children, and these things" — he slapped the newspaper — "are worse than superstitions. They're downright lies!" He looked at Donaju. "Your job, Captain, is to go to your men and tell them that they're lies. And if you don't believe me then you ride down to the camps. Go to the Connaught Rangers and ask their new recruits. Go to the Inniskillings. Go wherever you like, but be back here by dusk. And in the meantime, Captain, tell your men they've got a full day of musket training. Loading and firing till their shoulders are raw meat. Is that clear?"
The men from the Real Companпa Irlandesa nodded reluctantly. Sharpe had won the argument, at least until the evening when Donaju returned from his reconnaissance. Father Sarsfield took the paper from Sharpe. "Are you saying this is a forgery?" the priest asked.
"How would I know, Father? I'm just saying it isn't true. Where did you get it?"
Sarsfield shrugged. "They're scattered throughout the army, Sharpe."
"And when did you and I ever see a newspaper from America, Pat?" Sharpe asked Harper. "And funny, isn't it, that the first one we ever see is all about Britain being bloody to Ireland? It smacks of mischief to me."
Father Sarsfield folded the paper. "I think you're probably right, Sharpe, and praise be to God for it. But you won't mind, will you, if I ride with Captain Donaju today?"
"It isn't up to me what you do, Father," Sharpe said. "But for the rest of you, let's get to work!"
Sharpe waited while the delegation left.