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Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 208 из 283"They're just pouring water onto theground," she said after a while.
"Looking for food, love."
"How does that help?"
"Peasants can't carry their whole harvest off to safety," Sharpe explained, "so sometimes they bury it. Dig a hole, put the grain in, cover it with soil and put the turf back. You could walk right across and never see it, but pour water on the soil and it drains faster where it's been dug."
"They're not finding anything," she said.
"Good," Sharpe said, and watched her, thinking what a fine face she had, and thinking, too, that she was a spirited creature. Like Teresa, he reflected, and wondered what the Spanish girl did, or whether she even lived.
"They're going," Sarah reported, and collapsed the telescope, noticing the small brass plate attached to the biggest barrel. " In gratitude ," she read aloud, "AW. Who's AW?"
"Wellington."
"Why was he grateful to you?"
"It was a fight in India," Sharpe said, "and I helped him."
"Just that?"
"He'd come off his horse," Sharpe said. "He was in a bit of trouble, really. Still, he got out safe enough."
Sarah handed him the glass. "Sergeant Harper says you're the best soldier in the army."
"Pat's full of Irish wind," Sharpe said. "Mind you, he's a terror himself. No one better in a fight."
"And Captain Vicente says you taught him everything he knows."
"Full of Portuguese wind."
"Yet you think your captaincy is at risk?"
"The army doesn't care if you're good, love."
"I don't believe you."
"I wish I didn't believe me," Sharpe said, then grinned. "I'll get by, love."
Sarah was about to speak, but whatever she wanted to say went unspoken because there was a crackle of gunfire from across the valley. Sharpe turned, saw nothing. The dragoons in the village were remounting their horses and were gazing southwards, but they could evidently see nothing either for they did not move in that direction. The musketry went on, a distant splintering sound, then slowly died away.
"There," Sharpe said, and he pointed across the wide valley to where more French horsemen were spilling out of a high saddle in the hills. Sarah gazed and could see nothing until Sharpe gave her back the glass and told her where to look. "They've been ambushed, probably," he said.
"I thought no one was supposed to be here. Weren't they ordered to Lisbon?"
"Folk had a choice," Sharpe explained, "they could either go to Lisbon or climb into high ground. My guess is these hills are full of people.
"Looking for food, love."
"How does that help?"
"Peasants can't carry their whole harvest off to safety," Sharpe explained, "so sometimes they bury it. Dig a hole, put the grain in, cover it with soil and put the turf back. You could walk right across and never see it, but pour water on the soil and it drains faster where it's been dug."
"They're not finding anything," she said.
"Good," Sharpe said, and watched her, thinking what a fine face she had, and thinking, too, that she was a spirited creature. Like Teresa, he reflected, and wondered what the Spanish girl did, or whether she even lived.
"They're going," Sarah reported, and collapsed the telescope, noticing the small brass plate attached to the biggest barrel. " In gratitude ," she read aloud, "AW. Who's AW?"
"Wellington."
"Why was he grateful to you?"
"It was a fight in India," Sharpe said, "and I helped him."
"Just that?"
"He'd come off his horse," Sharpe said. "He was in a bit of trouble, really. Still, he got out safe enough."
Sarah handed him the glass. "Sergeant Harper says you're the best soldier in the army."
"Pat's full of Irish wind," Sharpe said. "Mind you, he's a terror himself. No one better in a fight."
"And Captain Vicente says you taught him everything he knows."
"Full of Portuguese wind."
"Yet you think your captaincy is at risk?"
"The army doesn't care if you're good, love."
"I don't believe you."
"I wish I didn't believe me," Sharpe said, then grinned. "I'll get by, love."
Sarah was about to speak, but whatever she wanted to say went unspoken because there was a crackle of gunfire from across the valley. Sharpe turned, saw nothing. The dragoons in the village were remounting their horses and were gazing southwards, but they could evidently see nothing either for they did not move in that direction. The musketry went on, a distant splintering sound, then slowly died away.
"There," Sharpe said, and he pointed across the wide valley to where more French horsemen were spilling out of a high saddle in the hills. Sarah gazed and could see nothing until Sharpe gave her back the glass and told her where to look. "They've been ambushed, probably," he said.
"I thought no one was supposed to be here. Weren't they ordered to Lisbon?"
"Folk had a choice," Sharpe explained, "they could either go to Lisbon or climb into high ground. My guess is these hills are full of people.