JК
Sharpes Siege :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 199 из 223A cavalry sergeant, his cloak plastered wet to his horse’s rump, splashed back with news that, because the wind was so small this morning, the
Thuella was being towed down the Arcachon channel by two longboats.
“Bugger the wind,” Calvet said, “and bugger the rain.” He stumped through mud to the sand-dunes and stared north. Far off, drab, black, and with wet sails dropping from her yards, the big schooner was just visible. “We won’t attack,” Calvet growled, “till the damn thing’s in place.”
“Perhaps,” Favier ventured cautiously, “Captain Killick’s guns won’t fire in this weather?”
“Don’t be a damned fool. If anyone can make guns fire in the wet it has to be a sailor, doesn’t it?” Calvet took out his glass, wiped the lenses, and stared at the fortress. The gate was a heap of rubble, a mound of wet stone, a causeway to victory. He went back to his bacon with confidence that this morning’s business would not take long. The British rifles would be useless in this rain and their lime would be turned into whitewash.
Calvet looked at his orderly who was putting an edge on to his sword. “Make sure the point’s wicked!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Won’t be a day for the edge, Favier.” Calvet knew that wet uniforms resisted a sword cut much better than dry. “It’ll be a day for stabbing. In and out, Favier, in and out!” Calvet, feeling far better for his breakfast, glanced at the door where Ducos had suddenly appeared. “You look damp, Ducos, and I ate your bacon.”
Ducos did not care that the general goaded him. Today he would capture Richard Sharpe and it would be a consolation to Pierre Ducos amidst the tragedies that beset France. “There’s a wind stirring.”
“Splendid.”
“The schooner should be anchored soon.”
“God bless our allies,” Calvet said. “It might have taken them twenty damned years to join the war, but better late than never.” He went to the doorway and saw that the Thuella had indeed used the freshening wind to hasten her progress. A splash of water showed as the forward anchor was let go. “I think,” Calvet said as the schooner’s gunports opened, “that we are at last ready.” He called for his horse and, from its saddle,“ saw his wet, dispirited troops forming into their attack column. ”We shall give our gallant allies twenty minutes of target practice,“ Calvet said, ”then advance.“
Ducos was staring at the Thuella. ‘If Killick opens fire at all,“ he said. The schooner lay silent in the channel.
Thuella was being towed down the Arcachon channel by two longboats.
“Bugger the wind,” Calvet said, “and bugger the rain.” He stumped through mud to the sand-dunes and stared north. Far off, drab, black, and with wet sails dropping from her yards, the big schooner was just visible. “We won’t attack,” Calvet growled, “till the damn thing’s in place.”
“Perhaps,” Favier ventured cautiously, “Captain Killick’s guns won’t fire in this weather?”
“Don’t be a damned fool. If anyone can make guns fire in the wet it has to be a sailor, doesn’t it?” Calvet took out his glass, wiped the lenses, and stared at the fortress. The gate was a heap of rubble, a mound of wet stone, a causeway to victory. He went back to his bacon with confidence that this morning’s business would not take long. The British rifles would be useless in this rain and their lime would be turned into whitewash.
Calvet looked at his orderly who was putting an edge on to his sword. “Make sure the point’s wicked!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Won’t be a day for the edge, Favier.” Calvet knew that wet uniforms resisted a sword cut much better than dry. “It’ll be a day for stabbing. In and out, Favier, in and out!” Calvet, feeling far better for his breakfast, glanced at the door where Ducos had suddenly appeared. “You look damp, Ducos, and I ate your bacon.”
Ducos did not care that the general goaded him. Today he would capture Richard Sharpe and it would be a consolation to Pierre Ducos amidst the tragedies that beset France. “There’s a wind stirring.”
“Splendid.”
“The schooner should be anchored soon.”
“God bless our allies,” Calvet said. “It might have taken them twenty damned years to join the war, but better late than never.” He went to the doorway and saw that the Thuella had indeed used the freshening wind to hasten her progress. A splash of water showed as the forward anchor was let go. “I think,” Calvet said as the schooner’s gunports opened, “that we are at last ready.” He called for his horse and, from its saddle,“ saw his wet, dispirited troops forming into their attack column. ”We shall give our gallant allies twenty minutes of target practice,“ Calvet said, ”then advance.“
Ducos was staring at the Thuella. ‘If Killick opens fire at all,“ he said. The schooner lay silent in the channel.