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Sharpes Siege :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 193 из 223“Well?”
Killick knew that if he did not sign Ducos would use his authority to detain him. Liam Docherty would not sail without Killick and the Thuella would stay in the Bassin, a hostage to Ducos’ whim. In the embarrassed silence the American took the charcoal and scrawled his name. “One hour after dawn.”
Ducos, triumphant, witnessed the piece of paper. “You had better make your preparations, Mr Killick. Should you be tempted to break this oath, I promise you that your name will be known throughout America as that of a man who abandoned his allies and ran away from a fight. It is not pleasant, Mr Killick, to have one’s name remembered for ever in the lists of traitors. First Benedict Arnold, then Cornelius Killick?” For a second the look on Killick’s face persuaded Ducos that he had said too much, then the American nodded meekly.
Outside the hovel, Killick swore. The guns thumped from their pits and the first heavy rain, drumming from the north, began to fall. That rain, the American knew, was likely to last through the night, making rifles or muskets difficult to fire. The French now had the advantage of rain, so why did they need his ship?
“What will you do?” Henri Lassan asked.
“Christ knows.” Killick threw the remains of his cigar into the mud where it was snatched up by a sentry. The American stared at the low profile of the fort that gouted smoke with each burst of an howitzer shell. “Is it worse to betray an enemy or an ally, Henri?”
Henri Lassan, who hated what Ducos had done, shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”
“I suppose I’ll have to fire high,” Killick said, “and hope Major Sharpe will forgive me.” He paused, wondering what carnage was being done inside the cauldron of the fort’s walls where the smoke pulsed from the relentless shells. “The bastard’s my enemy, Henri, but I can’t help liking the bugger,”
“I fear that if Major Ducos had his way,” Lassan said, “Major Sharpe will be dead by this time tomorrow.”
“So I suppose it doesn’t matter what I do.” The American gazed at the embattled fortress. “You believe in prayer, my friend, perhaps you’d better pray for my soul.”
“I already pray for it,” Lassan said.
“Because my honour,” Killick said softly, “is bargained away. Goodbye, my friend! Till the dawn.”
So the French had two allies; rain and an American, and their victory was thus made certain.
An hour before midnight the archway shuddered as the facing stones fell into the flooded ditch.
Killick knew that if he did not sign Ducos would use his authority to detain him. Liam Docherty would not sail without Killick and the Thuella would stay in the Bassin, a hostage to Ducos’ whim. In the embarrassed silence the American took the charcoal and scrawled his name. “One hour after dawn.”
Ducos, triumphant, witnessed the piece of paper. “You had better make your preparations, Mr Killick. Should you be tempted to break this oath, I promise you that your name will be known throughout America as that of a man who abandoned his allies and ran away from a fight. It is not pleasant, Mr Killick, to have one’s name remembered for ever in the lists of traitors. First Benedict Arnold, then Cornelius Killick?” For a second the look on Killick’s face persuaded Ducos that he had said too much, then the American nodded meekly.
Outside the hovel, Killick swore. The guns thumped from their pits and the first heavy rain, drumming from the north, began to fall. That rain, the American knew, was likely to last through the night, making rifles or muskets difficult to fire. The French now had the advantage of rain, so why did they need his ship?
“What will you do?” Henri Lassan asked.
“Christ knows.” Killick threw the remains of his cigar into the mud where it was snatched up by a sentry. The American stared at the low profile of the fort that gouted smoke with each burst of an howitzer shell. “Is it worse to betray an enemy or an ally, Henri?”
Henri Lassan, who hated what Ducos had done, shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”
“I suppose I’ll have to fire high,” Killick said, “and hope Major Sharpe will forgive me.” He paused, wondering what carnage was being done inside the cauldron of the fort’s walls where the smoke pulsed from the relentless shells. “The bastard’s my enemy, Henri, but I can’t help liking the bugger,”
“I fear that if Major Ducos had his way,” Lassan said, “Major Sharpe will be dead by this time tomorrow.”
“So I suppose it doesn’t matter what I do.” The American gazed at the embattled fortress. “You believe in prayer, my friend, perhaps you’d better pray for my soul.”
“I already pray for it,” Lassan said.
“Because my honour,” Killick said softly, “is bargained away. Goodbye, my friend! Till the dawn.”
So the French had two allies; rain and an American, and their victory was thus made certain.
An hour before midnight the archway shuddered as the facing stones fell into the flooded ditch.