JК
Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 94 из 283"Lost a color a couple of years back, didn't you?"
"We took one back at Talavera," Sharpe said harshly.
"Did you now?" The horseman did not seem particularly interested.
He took out a small telescope and stared at the rocky knoll, ignoring some musket balls which, fired at extreme range, fluttered impotently by. "Allow me to name Colonel Rogers-Jones," Vicente said, "my Colonel."
"And the man, Vicente," Rogers-Jones said, "who ordered you to turf those buggers out of the rocks. I didn't tell you to stand here and chatter, did I?"
"I was seeking Captain Sharpe's advice, sir," Vicente said.
"Reckon he's got any to offer?" The Colonel sounded amused.
"He took a French Eagle," Vicente pointed out.
"Not by standing around talking, he didn't," Rogers-Jones said. He collapsed his telescope. "I'll tell the gunners to open fire," he went on, "and you advance, Vicente. You'll help him, Sharpe." He added the order carelessly. "Winkle them out, Vicente, then stay there to make sure the bastards don't come back." He turned his horse and spurred away.
"Jesus bloody wept," Sharpe said. "Does he know how many of them there are?"
"I still have my orders," Vicente said bleakly.
Sharpe took the rifle off his shoulder and loaded it. "You want advice?"
"Of course."
"Send our rifles up the middle," Sharpe said, "in skirmish order. They're to keep firing, hard and fast, no patches, just keeping the bastards' heads down. The rest of our lads will come up behind in line. Bayonets fixed. Straight-forward battalion attack, Jorge, with three companies, and I hope your bastard Colonel is satisfied."
"Our lads?" Vicente picked those two words out of Sharpe's advice.
"Not going to let you die alone, Jorge," Sharpe said. "You'd probably get lost trying to find the pearly gates." He glanced northwards and saw the cannon smoke thickening as the French attack closed on the village beneath the ridge's summit, then the first of the guns close to the knoll fired and a shell banged smoke and casing scraps just beyond the rocky 'knoll. "So let's do it," Sharpe said.
It was not wise, he thought, but it was war. He cocked the rifle and shouted at his men to close up. Time to fight.
CHAPTER 5
The village of Sula, which was perched on the eastward slope of the ridge very close to where the northernmost road crossed the summit, was a small and unremarkable place.
"We took one back at Talavera," Sharpe said harshly.
"Did you now?" The horseman did not seem particularly interested.
He took out a small telescope and stared at the rocky knoll, ignoring some musket balls which, fired at extreme range, fluttered impotently by. "Allow me to name Colonel Rogers-Jones," Vicente said, "my Colonel."
"And the man, Vicente," Rogers-Jones said, "who ordered you to turf those buggers out of the rocks. I didn't tell you to stand here and chatter, did I?"
"I was seeking Captain Sharpe's advice, sir," Vicente said.
"Reckon he's got any to offer?" The Colonel sounded amused.
"He took a French Eagle," Vicente pointed out.
"Not by standing around talking, he didn't," Rogers-Jones said. He collapsed his telescope. "I'll tell the gunners to open fire," he went on, "and you advance, Vicente. You'll help him, Sharpe." He added the order carelessly. "Winkle them out, Vicente, then stay there to make sure the bastards don't come back." He turned his horse and spurred away.
"Jesus bloody wept," Sharpe said. "Does he know how many of them there are?"
"I still have my orders," Vicente said bleakly.
Sharpe took the rifle off his shoulder and loaded it. "You want advice?"
"Of course."
"Send our rifles up the middle," Sharpe said, "in skirmish order. They're to keep firing, hard and fast, no patches, just keeping the bastards' heads down. The rest of our lads will come up behind in line. Bayonets fixed. Straight-forward battalion attack, Jorge, with three companies, and I hope your bastard Colonel is satisfied."
"Our lads?" Vicente picked those two words out of Sharpe's advice.
"Not going to let you die alone, Jorge," Sharpe said. "You'd probably get lost trying to find the pearly gates." He glanced northwards and saw the cannon smoke thickening as the French attack closed on the village beneath the ridge's summit, then the first of the guns close to the knoll fired and a shell banged smoke and casing scraps just beyond the rocky 'knoll. "So let's do it," Sharpe said.
It was not wise, he thought, but it was war. He cocked the rifle and shouted at his men to close up. Time to fight.
CHAPTER 5
The village of Sula, which was perched on the eastward slope of the ridge very close to where the northernmost road crossed the summit, was a small and unremarkable place.