JК
Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 202 из 283"
Somewhere in the dark a dog howled and the cat arched its back in the doorway and spat at the sound. After a while Sarah fell asleep and Sharpe crouched beside the cat and watched the light slowly creep across the sky. Vicente woke early and joined him.
"How's the shoulder?" Sharpe asked him.
"It hurts less."
"It's healing then," Sharpe said.
Vicente sat in silence. "If the French do leave today," he said after a while, "wouldn't it be sensible to go ourselves?"
"Forget Ferragus, you mean?"
Vicente nodded. "Our duty is to rejoin the army."
"It is," Sharpe agreed, "but we rejoin the army, Jorge, and they'll give us black marks for being absent. Your Colonel won't be pleased. So we have to take them something."
"Ferragus?"
Sharpe shook his head. "Ferreira. He's the one they need to know about. But to find him we look for his brother."
Vicente nodded acceptance. "So when we go back we haven't just been absent, but doing something useful?"
"And instead of stamping all over us," Sharpe said, "they'll be thanking us."
"So when the French go, we look for Ferreira? Then march him south under arrest?"
"Simple, eh?" Sharpe said with a smile.
"I'm not as good as you at this."
"At what?"
"At being away from the regiment. At being on my own."
"You miss Kate, eh?"
"I miss Kate too."
"You should miss her," Sharpe said, "and you're good at this, Jorge. You're as good a damn soldier as any in the army, and if you give the army Ferreira then they'll think you're a hero. Then in two years you'll be a colonel and I'll still be a captain, and you'll wish we'd never had this conversation. Time to make some tea, Jorge."
The French left. It took most of the day for the guns, wagons, horses and men to cross the Santa Clara bridge, twist through the narrow streets beyond, and so out onto the main road that would lead them south towards Lisbon. All day patrols went through the streets, blowing bugles and shouting for men to rejoin their units, and it was late afternoon before the last bugle sounded and the noise of boots, hooves and wheels faded from Coimbra. The French were not wholly gone. Over three thousand of their wounded were left in the big Saint Clara convent south of the river and such men needed protection.
Somewhere in the dark a dog howled and the cat arched its back in the doorway and spat at the sound. After a while Sarah fell asleep and Sharpe crouched beside the cat and watched the light slowly creep across the sky. Vicente woke early and joined him.
"How's the shoulder?" Sharpe asked him.
"It hurts less."
"It's healing then," Sharpe said.
Vicente sat in silence. "If the French do leave today," he said after a while, "wouldn't it be sensible to go ourselves?"
"Forget Ferragus, you mean?"
Vicente nodded. "Our duty is to rejoin the army."
"It is," Sharpe agreed, "but we rejoin the army, Jorge, and they'll give us black marks for being absent. Your Colonel won't be pleased. So we have to take them something."
"Ferragus?"
Sharpe shook his head. "Ferreira. He's the one they need to know about. But to find him we look for his brother."
Vicente nodded acceptance. "So when we go back we haven't just been absent, but doing something useful?"
"And instead of stamping all over us," Sharpe said, "they'll be thanking us."
"So when the French go, we look for Ferreira? Then march him south under arrest?"
"Simple, eh?" Sharpe said with a smile.
"I'm not as good as you at this."
"At what?"
"At being away from the regiment. At being on my own."
"You miss Kate, eh?"
"I miss Kate too."
"You should miss her," Sharpe said, "and you're good at this, Jorge. You're as good a damn soldier as any in the army, and if you give the army Ferreira then they'll think you're a hero. Then in two years you'll be a colonel and I'll still be a captain, and you'll wish we'd never had this conversation. Time to make some tea, Jorge."
The French left. It took most of the day for the guns, wagons, horses and men to cross the Santa Clara bridge, twist through the narrow streets beyond, and so out onto the main road that would lead them south towards Lisbon. All day patrols went through the streets, blowing bugles and shouting for men to rejoin their units, and it was late afternoon before the last bugle sounded and the noise of boots, hooves and wheels faded from Coimbra. The French were not wholly gone. Over three thousand of their wounded were left in the big Saint Clara convent south of the river and such men needed protection.