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Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 200 из 283Harper had torn down some curtains from the bedroom, washed them, torn them into long strips, and now insisted on bandaging Sharpe's ribs that were still bruised and painful. Sarah saw the scars on his back.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I was flogged," Sharpe explained.
"For what?"
"Something I didn't do," Sharpe said.
"It must have hurt."
"Life hurts," Sharpe said. "Wrap it tight, Pat."
His ribs were still painful, but he could take a deep breath without wincing, which surely meant things were mending. They were mending in the city too, for Coimbra was quieter today, though the plume of smoke, thinner now, still drifted up from the warehouse. Sharpe suspected the French would have rescued some supplies from the blaze, but not nearly enough to release them from the hunger that Lord Wellington had deployed to defeat their invasion. At midday Sharpe crept to the end of the tortuous alley and saw, as he had suspected, patrols of French soldiers rooting men out of houses, and he and Harper then filled the alley with garden rubbish to suggest that it was not worth exploring, and the ruse must have worked, for no patrol bothered to explore the narrow passage. At nightfall there were the sounds of hooves and iron-rimmed wheels on the nearby streets and when it was fully dark Sharpe negotiated the obstacles in the alley and saw that two batteries of artillery were parked in the street. A half-dozen sentries guarded the vehicles and one, more alert than the others, saw Sharpe's shadow in the alley's entrance and shouted a challenge. Sharpe crouched. The man called again and, receiving no answer, shot into the blackness. The ball ricocheted above Sharpe's head as he crept backwards. " Un chien ," another sentry called. The first man peered down the alley, saw nothing and agreed it must have been a dog in the night.
Sharpe stood guard for the second half of the night. Sarah stayed with him, staring into the moonlit garden. She spoke of growing up and of losing her parents. "I became a nuisance to my uncle," she said sadly.
"So he got shot of you?"
"As fast as he could." She was sitting in the armchair and reached out to run a finger down the zigzag leather reinforcements on the leg of Sharpe's overalls. "Will the British really stay in Lisbon?"
"It'll take more than this pack of Frenchmen to get them out," Sharpe said scornfully. "Of course we're staying."
"If I had a hundred pounds," she said wistfully, "I'd find a small house in Lisbon and teach English. I like children."
"I don't."
"Of course you do." She slapped him lightly.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I was flogged," Sharpe explained.
"For what?"
"Something I didn't do," Sharpe said.
"It must have hurt."
"Life hurts," Sharpe said. "Wrap it tight, Pat."
His ribs were still painful, but he could take a deep breath without wincing, which surely meant things were mending. They were mending in the city too, for Coimbra was quieter today, though the plume of smoke, thinner now, still drifted up from the warehouse. Sharpe suspected the French would have rescued some supplies from the blaze, but not nearly enough to release them from the hunger that Lord Wellington had deployed to defeat their invasion. At midday Sharpe crept to the end of the tortuous alley and saw, as he had suspected, patrols of French soldiers rooting men out of houses, and he and Harper then filled the alley with garden rubbish to suggest that it was not worth exploring, and the ruse must have worked, for no patrol bothered to explore the narrow passage. At nightfall there were the sounds of hooves and iron-rimmed wheels on the nearby streets and when it was fully dark Sharpe negotiated the obstacles in the alley and saw that two batteries of artillery were parked in the street. A half-dozen sentries guarded the vehicles and one, more alert than the others, saw Sharpe's shadow in the alley's entrance and shouted a challenge. Sharpe crouched. The man called again and, receiving no answer, shot into the blackness. The ball ricocheted above Sharpe's head as he crept backwards. " Un chien ," another sentry called. The first man peered down the alley, saw nothing and agreed it must have been a dog in the night.
Sharpe stood guard for the second half of the night. Sarah stayed with him, staring into the moonlit garden. She spoke of growing up and of losing her parents. "I became a nuisance to my uncle," she said sadly.
"So he got shot of you?"
"As fast as he could." She was sitting in the armchair and reached out to run a finger down the zigzag leather reinforcements on the leg of Sharpe's overalls. "Will the British really stay in Lisbon?"
"It'll take more than this pack of Frenchmen to get them out," Sharpe said scornfully. "Of course we're staying."
"If I had a hundred pounds," she said wistfully, "I'd find a small house in Lisbon and teach English. I like children."
"I don't."
"Of course you do." She slapped him lightly.