Sharpes Escape   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

"I'm not sure thecazadores had orders to do that," a voice said behind Sharpe, who turned to see that Major Hogan had come to the ridge. "Hello, Richard," Hogan said cheerfully, "you look unhappy." He held out his hand for Sharpe's telescope.

"Cazadores?" Sharpe asked.

"Hunters. It's what the Portuguese call their skirmishers." Hogan was staring at the brown-coated skirmishers as he spoke. "It's rather a good name, don't you think? Hunters? Better than greenjackets."

"I'll stay a greenjacket," Sharpe said.

Hogan watched the cazadores for a few moments. Their riflemen had begun firing at the French on the spur, and that enemy prudently backed away. The Portuguese stayed where they were, not going down to the spur where the horsemen could attack them, content to have made their demonstration. Two guns fired, the shells falling into the empty space between the cazadores and the remaining French. "The Peer will be very unhappy," Hogan said. "He detests gunners firing at hopeless targets. It just reveals where his batteries are placed and it does no damn harm to the enemy." He turned the telescope to the valley and spent a long time looking at the enemy encampments beyond the stream. "We reckon Monsieur Massena has sixty thousand men," he said, "and maybe a hundred guns."

"And us, sir?" Sharpe asked.

"Fifty thousand and sixty," Hogan said, giving Sharpe back the telescope, "and half of ours are Portuguese."

There was something in his tone that caught Sharpe's attention. "Is that bad?" he asked.

"We'll see, won't we?" Hogan said, then stamped his foot on the turf. "But we do have this." He meant the ridge.

"Those lads seem eager enough." Sharpe nodded at the cazadores who were now retreating up the hill.

"Eagerness in new troops is quickly wiped away by gunfire," Hogan said.

"I doubt we'll find out," Sharpe said. "The Crapauds won't attack up here. They're not mad."

"I certainly wouldn't want to attack up this slope " Hogan agreed. "My suspicion is that they'll spend the day staring at us, then go away."

"Back to Spain?"

"Good Lord, no. If they did but know it there's a fine road that loops round the top of this ridge," he pointed north, "and they don't need to fight us here at all. They'll find that road eventually. Pity, really. This would be a grand place to give them a bloody nose. But they may come. They reckon the Portuguese aren't up to scratch, so perhaps they'll think it's worth an attempt."

"Are the Portuguese up to scratch?" Sharpe asked.