JК
Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 243 из 283He could hardly send Slingsby back to battalion, for Bullen did not see it as his job to destroy his commanding officer's reputation. That would be a disloyal act. "Keep an eye on him, Sergeant," Bullen said helplessly. "Maybe he'll recover."
"But I can't take his orders, sir, not in the state he's in."
"Is he giving you orders?"
"He told me to put Slattery under arrest, sir."
"The charge?"
"Looking funny at him, sir."
"Oh dear. Ignore his orders, Sergeant, and that's an order. Tell him I said so."
Read nodded. "You're taking over, sir?"
Bullen hesitated, knowing the question was important. If he said yes then he was formally acknowledging that Slingsby was not fit to command, and that would inevitably result in an enquiry. "I'm taking over until the Captain has recovered," he said, which seemed a decent compromise.
"Very good, sir." Read saluted and turned away.
"And Sergeant?" Bullen waited till Read turned back. "Don't look funny at him."
"No, sir," Read said solemnly, "of course not, sir. I wouldn't do such a thing, sir."
Bullen sipped his mug of tea and found it had gone cold. He put it down on a stone and walked to the stream. The mist had thickened slightly, he thought, so that he could only see some sixty or seventy yards, though, perversely, the hilltops a quarter-mile away were clear enough, which proved that the mist was merely a low-lying layer blanketing the damp earth. It would clear. He remembered marvelous winter mornings in Essex when the mist would drift away to show the hunting field spread out in glorious pursuit. He liked hunting. He smiled to himself, remembering his father's great black gelding, a tremendous hunter, that always screwed left when it landed on the far side of a hedge and every time his father would shout, "Order in court! Order in court!" It was a family joke, one of the many that made the Bullen house a happy one.
"Mister Bullen, sir?" It was Daniel Hagman, the oldest man in the company, who called from a dozen paces upstream.
Bullen, who had been thinking how they would be readying the horses for the cubbing season at home, walked to the rifleman. "Hagman?
"Thought I saw something, sir." Hagman pointed through the mist. "Nothing there now."
Bullen peered and saw nothing. "This mist will burn off soon enough."
"Be clear as a bell in an hour, sir. It'll be nice to have some sunshine."
"Won't it just?"
Then the shooting started.
"But I can't take his orders, sir, not in the state he's in."
"Is he giving you orders?"
"He told me to put Slattery under arrest, sir."
"The charge?"
"Looking funny at him, sir."
"Oh dear. Ignore his orders, Sergeant, and that's an order. Tell him I said so."
Read nodded. "You're taking over, sir?"
Bullen hesitated, knowing the question was important. If he said yes then he was formally acknowledging that Slingsby was not fit to command, and that would inevitably result in an enquiry. "I'm taking over until the Captain has recovered," he said, which seemed a decent compromise.
"Very good, sir." Read saluted and turned away.
"And Sergeant?" Bullen waited till Read turned back. "Don't look funny at him."
"No, sir," Read said solemnly, "of course not, sir. I wouldn't do such a thing, sir."
Bullen sipped his mug of tea and found it had gone cold. He put it down on a stone and walked to the stream. The mist had thickened slightly, he thought, so that he could only see some sixty or seventy yards, though, perversely, the hilltops a quarter-mile away were clear enough, which proved that the mist was merely a low-lying layer blanketing the damp earth. It would clear. He remembered marvelous winter mornings in Essex when the mist would drift away to show the hunting field spread out in glorious pursuit. He liked hunting. He smiled to himself, remembering his father's great black gelding, a tremendous hunter, that always screwed left when it landed on the far side of a hedge and every time his father would shout, "Order in court! Order in court!" It was a family joke, one of the many that made the Bullen house a happy one.
"Mister Bullen, sir?" It was Daniel Hagman, the oldest man in the company, who called from a dozen paces upstream.
Bullen, who had been thinking how they would be readying the horses for the cubbing season at home, walked to the rifleman. "Hagman?
"Thought I saw something, sir." Hagman pointed through the mist. "Nothing there now."
Bullen peered and saw nothing. "This mist will burn off soon enough."
"Be clear as a bell in an hour, sir. It'll be nice to have some sunshine."
"Won't it just?"
Then the shooting started.