JК
Sharpes Siege :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 203 из 223“You have to understand, Colonel, that Major Sharpe has sworn a solemn oath not to takeup arms against the United States of America. Therefore I had no need to remove his weapons, nor those of his men.”
“And France?” Ducos spoke for the first time.
“France?” Killick inquired innocently.
“It would be normal, Captain Killick, to demand that a captured prisoner should not take up arms against the allies of your country. Or had you forgotten that your country and mine are bound by solemn treaty?”
Killick shrugged. “I suppose that in the flush of my victory, Major, I forgot that clause.”
“Then impose it now.”
Killick looked at Sharpe, the movement of his head spilling water from the peaks of his bicorne hat. “Well, Major?”
“The terms of the surrender,” Sharpe said, “cannot be changed.”
Calvet was demanding a translation. Favier and Ducos jostled each other’s words in their eagerness to reveal the perfidy of this surrender.
“They’re all Anglo-Saxons,” Ducos said bitterly.
Calvet asked a question in French, was answered by Killick in that language, and Frederickson smiled. “He asked,” he said to Sharpe, “whether Killick’s taking us to America. Killick said that was where the Thuella was sailing.”
“And doubtless,” Ducos had edged his horse closer so he could stare down at Sharpe, “you have relieved Captain Killick of his sworn oath not to fight against the British?”
“Yes,” Sharpe said, “I have.” That was the devil’s pact, made in the seething rainstorm of last night. Sharpe had promised that neither he nor his garrison would fight against the United States, and in return Sharpe had relieved Killick of his own irksome oath. The price was this surrender that would make the escape of Sharpe’s men possible.
Ducos sneered at Sharpe. “And you think a privateer captain honours his promises?”
“I honoured the promise I made you,” Killick said. “I fired till the enemy surrendered.”
“You have no standing in this matter!” Ducos snapped the words. “You are not a military officer, Mr Killick; you are a pirate.”
Killick opened his mouth to reply, but Ducos scornfully wheeled his horse away. He spoke to the general, chopping the air with his thin, gloved hand to accentuate his words.
“I don’t think they’re impressed,” Frederickson said softly.
“I don’t give a damn,” Sharpe growled. The boats must already be taking the wounded to the Thuella, and the Marines would be following. The longer the French argued, the more men would be saved.
“And France?” Ducos spoke for the first time.
“France?” Killick inquired innocently.
“It would be normal, Captain Killick, to demand that a captured prisoner should not take up arms against the allies of your country. Or had you forgotten that your country and mine are bound by solemn treaty?”
Killick shrugged. “I suppose that in the flush of my victory, Major, I forgot that clause.”
“Then impose it now.”
Killick looked at Sharpe, the movement of his head spilling water from the peaks of his bicorne hat. “Well, Major?”
“The terms of the surrender,” Sharpe said, “cannot be changed.”
Calvet was demanding a translation. Favier and Ducos jostled each other’s words in their eagerness to reveal the perfidy of this surrender.
“They’re all Anglo-Saxons,” Ducos said bitterly.
Calvet asked a question in French, was answered by Killick in that language, and Frederickson smiled. “He asked,” he said to Sharpe, “whether Killick’s taking us to America. Killick said that was where the Thuella was sailing.”
“And doubtless,” Ducos had edged his horse closer so he could stare down at Sharpe, “you have relieved Captain Killick of his sworn oath not to fight against the British?”
“Yes,” Sharpe said, “I have.” That was the devil’s pact, made in the seething rainstorm of last night. Sharpe had promised that neither he nor his garrison would fight against the United States, and in return Sharpe had relieved Killick of his own irksome oath. The price was this surrender that would make the escape of Sharpe’s men possible.
Ducos sneered at Sharpe. “And you think a privateer captain honours his promises?”
“I honoured the promise I made you,” Killick said. “I fired till the enemy surrendered.”
“You have no standing in this matter!” Ducos snapped the words. “You are not a military officer, Mr Killick; you are a pirate.”
Killick opened his mouth to reply, but Ducos scornfully wheeled his horse away. He spoke to the general, chopping the air with his thin, gloved hand to accentuate his words.
“I don’t think they’re impressed,” Frederickson said softly.
“I don’t give a damn,” Sharpe growled. The boats must already be taking the wounded to the Thuella, and the Marines would be following. The longer the French argued, the more men would be saved.