JК
Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 217 из 283They carried money and he stared upriver, praying that he had got ahead of them.
They spent the night in a shed that leaked like a sieve and next morning, cold and damp and tired, they walked upstream, coming to a village where a group of men, all armed, some of them with ancient matchlocks, met them at the end of the street. Vicente talked with them, but it was plain the men were in no mood to be friendly. These river settlements had been harrowed by the Portuguese army to make certain no boats were left for the enemy, and Vicente was unable to persuade them to reveal any that might be hidden, and the men's guns, old as most of them were, convinced Sharpe that they were wasting their time. "They're telling us to go to Abrantes," Vicente said. "They say there will be boats hidden there."
"There are boats hidden here," Sharpe grumbled. "How far is Abrantes?"
"We could be there by midday?" Vicente sounded dubious. And the Ferreira brothers, Sharpe thought, would surely be on the river already and floating south. He was fairly confident that, by following the Zezere, he had managed to get ahead of them, but at any moment he half expected to see them float past and so escape him.
"I can talk to them." Vicente suggested, gesturing at the men. "If I promise to come back and pay for the boat, perhaps they'll sell us one."
"They won't believe a promise like that," Sharpe said. "No, we keep walking." They left the village, followed by seven men who were cheerful in their victory. Sharpe ignored them. He was going north now, the wrong direction entirely, but he said nothing until the villagers, sure they had seen the threat off, abandoned them with a shouted injunction to stay away. Sharpe waited till they were out of sight. "Time to get nasty," he said. "Those bastards have got a boat and I want it."
He led his companions off the road into the higher ground, then back towards the village, staying hidden in trees or behind the rows of vines that straggled on chestnut stakes. The rain kept coming down. His plan was simple enough: to find something that the villagers valued more than their boats and threaten that thing, but as they crept back towards the houses there was nothing obvious to take. There was no livestock, nothing except some chickens scratching in a fenced garden, but the men who had marched the strangers out of the village were celebrating in the tavern. Their boasting and laughter were loud and Sharpe felt his anger rise. "Fast in," he told Harper, "and scare the hell out of them."
Harper took the seven-barrel gun from his shoulder. "Ready when you are, sir.
They spent the night in a shed that leaked like a sieve and next morning, cold and damp and tired, they walked upstream, coming to a village where a group of men, all armed, some of them with ancient matchlocks, met them at the end of the street. Vicente talked with them, but it was plain the men were in no mood to be friendly. These river settlements had been harrowed by the Portuguese army to make certain no boats were left for the enemy, and Vicente was unable to persuade them to reveal any that might be hidden, and the men's guns, old as most of them were, convinced Sharpe that they were wasting their time. "They're telling us to go to Abrantes," Vicente said. "They say there will be boats hidden there."
"There are boats hidden here," Sharpe grumbled. "How far is Abrantes?"
"We could be there by midday?" Vicente sounded dubious. And the Ferreira brothers, Sharpe thought, would surely be on the river already and floating south. He was fairly confident that, by following the Zezere, he had managed to get ahead of them, but at any moment he half expected to see them float past and so escape him.
"I can talk to them." Vicente suggested, gesturing at the men. "If I promise to come back and pay for the boat, perhaps they'll sell us one."
"They won't believe a promise like that," Sharpe said. "No, we keep walking." They left the village, followed by seven men who were cheerful in their victory. Sharpe ignored them. He was going north now, the wrong direction entirely, but he said nothing until the villagers, sure they had seen the threat off, abandoned them with a shouted injunction to stay away. Sharpe waited till they were out of sight. "Time to get nasty," he said. "Those bastards have got a boat and I want it."
He led his companions off the road into the higher ground, then back towards the village, staying hidden in trees or behind the rows of vines that straggled on chestnut stakes. The rain kept coming down. His plan was simple enough: to find something that the villagers valued more than their boats and threaten that thing, but as they crept back towards the houses there was nothing obvious to take. There was no livestock, nothing except some chickens scratching in a fenced garden, but the men who had marched the strangers out of the village were celebrating in the tavern. Their boasting and laughter were loud and Sharpe felt his anger rise. "Fast in," he told Harper, "and scare the hell out of them."
Harper took the seven-barrel gun from his shoulder. "Ready when you are, sir.