JК
Sharpes Siege :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 217 из 223Then we went inland, beat the Frogs by the river, and came back to find the fort abandoned. We beat them there, too.”
“Not too loud, Sharpe,” Elphinstone said, “ware right flank.”
Sharpe twisted round. Yards down the river bank was a party of some two dozen officers, both Army and Navy, who had come to see this prodigy; a floating bridge that crossed an estuary. With them were ladies who had been invited to witness the far smoke of battle. Gleaming carriages were parked on a marshy road two hundred yards to the rear. “Is that Bampfylde?”
“Gently now, Sharpe!” Elphinstone said.
“Bugger Bampfylde.” Sharpe was streaked with mud, spattered with dried blood, salt-stained, and scorched with powder burns. He walked along the sea-wall’s narrow path towards the spectators who clustered about two tripod-mounted telescopes. A spatter of applause and admiration sounded as another rocket arched towards the grey clouds.
Two naval lieutenants blocked Sharpe’s progress. One of them, seeing the soldier’s tattered, dirty state, suggested that Sharpe make a detour. “Go down there.” The naval officer pointed to the swampy mud inland of the wall.
“Get out of my way. Move!” The sudden command startled all of the spectators. A woman dropped her umbrella and gave a small scream at Sharpe’s bloody, dirty appearance, but Captain Horace Bampfylde, explaining at length how he had captured a fortress and brought these cfiasse-marees south to help out the Army, fell into a terrified silence.
“You poxed bastard,” Sharpe said. “You coward!”
“Sir!” An Army officer touched Sharpe’s arm in remonstrance, but Sharpe rounded on the man, who stepped back in sudden fear from the savage face.
Sharpe looked back to Bampfylde. “You ran away.”
“That is not…”
“Just as you did not take the fortress, you bastard, I did. And then I held it, you bastard, I held it against a goddamned brigade of crapaud troops. We beat them, Bampfylde. We fought them and beat them. I lost some of your Marines, Bampfylde, because you don’t fight a demi-brigade without losing men, but we won!“ There was an embarrassed silence among the elegantly dressed party. A cold wind stirred the water to Sharpe’s right, then a dull cough of artillery thumped its noise across the, river. ”Do you hear me, Bampfylde?“
The naval officer said nothing, and there was nothing but terror on his fleshy young face. The other officers, appalled by Sharpe’s face and by the anger in his voice, stood as if frozen.
“Over two thousand men, you bastard, and less than two hundred of us.
“Not too loud, Sharpe,” Elphinstone said, “ware right flank.”
Sharpe twisted round. Yards down the river bank was a party of some two dozen officers, both Army and Navy, who had come to see this prodigy; a floating bridge that crossed an estuary. With them were ladies who had been invited to witness the far smoke of battle. Gleaming carriages were parked on a marshy road two hundred yards to the rear. “Is that Bampfylde?”
“Gently now, Sharpe!” Elphinstone said.
“Bugger Bampfylde.” Sharpe was streaked with mud, spattered with dried blood, salt-stained, and scorched with powder burns. He walked along the sea-wall’s narrow path towards the spectators who clustered about two tripod-mounted telescopes. A spatter of applause and admiration sounded as another rocket arched towards the grey clouds.
Two naval lieutenants blocked Sharpe’s progress. One of them, seeing the soldier’s tattered, dirty state, suggested that Sharpe make a detour. “Go down there.” The naval officer pointed to the swampy mud inland of the wall.
“Get out of my way. Move!” The sudden command startled all of the spectators. A woman dropped her umbrella and gave a small scream at Sharpe’s bloody, dirty appearance, but Captain Horace Bampfylde, explaining at length how he had captured a fortress and brought these cfiasse-marees south to help out the Army, fell into a terrified silence.
“You poxed bastard,” Sharpe said. “You coward!”
“Sir!” An Army officer touched Sharpe’s arm in remonstrance, but Sharpe rounded on the man, who stepped back in sudden fear from the savage face.
Sharpe looked back to Bampfylde. “You ran away.”
“That is not…”
“Just as you did not take the fortress, you bastard, I did. And then I held it, you bastard, I held it against a goddamned brigade of crapaud troops. We beat them, Bampfylde. We fought them and beat them. I lost some of your Marines, Bampfylde, because you don’t fight a demi-brigade without losing men, but we won!“ There was an embarrassed silence among the elegantly dressed party. A cold wind stirred the water to Sharpe’s right, then a dull cough of artillery thumped its noise across the, river. ”Do you hear me, Bampfylde?“
The naval officer said nothing, and there was nothing but terror on his fleshy young face. The other officers, appalled by Sharpe’s face and by the anger in his voice, stood as if frozen.
“Over two thousand men, you bastard, and less than two hundred of us.