JК
Sharpes Siege :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 26 из 223“Between you and me, William, it’s a mess.”
“I thought it might be.”
“We leave tomorrow to capture a fortress. It isn’t supposed to be heavily defended, but no one’s sure. After that, God knows what happens. There’s a madman who wants us to invade France, but between you and me we’re not.”
Frederickson grinned, then turned and looked at the two Companies of Riflemen. “We’re capturing a fort all by our little selves?”
“The Navy says a few Marines might be well enough to help us.”
“That’s very decent of them.” Frederickson stared at the great bulk of the Vengeance. Barges, propelled by huge sweeps, were taking casks of water from the harbour to the huge ship.
“You’ll draw extra ammunition,” Sharpe said. “The First Division’s paying for it.”
„I’ll rob the bastards blind,“ Frederickson said happily.
“And tonight you’ll do me the honour of dining with Jane and myself?”
“I’d like to meet her.” Frederickson sounded guarded.
“She’s wonderful.” Sharpe said it warmly, and Frederickson, seeing his friend’s enthusiasm, hoped that a new wife had not sapped Sharpe’s appetite for the bloody business that lay ahead at Arcachon.
Commandant Henri Lassan thought he detected sleet in the dawn, but he could not be sure until he climbed to the western bastion and saw how the flakes settled briefly on the great cheeks of his guns before melting into cold rivulets of water. The guns were loaded, as they always were, but their muzzles and vent-holes were stoppered against the damp. “Good morning, Sergeant!”
“Sir!” The sergeant stamped his feet and slapped his hands against the cold.
Lassan’s orderly climbed the stone ramp with a tray of coffee-mugs. Lassan always brought the morning guard a mug of coffee each and the men appreciated the small gesture. The Commandant, they said, was a gentleman.
Children ran across the courtyard and women’s voices sounded from the kitchens. There should not be women in the fort, but Lassan had let the families of his gun crews take up the quarters vacated by the infantry who had gone to the northern battles. Lassan believed his men were less likely to desert if their families were inside the defences.
“There she is, sir.” The sergeant pointed through the sleeting rain.
Lassan looked over the narrow Arcachon channel where the tide raced across the shoals. Beyond the sandbanks the surging grey waves were torn by wind into a maelstrom of broken white water amidst which, beating southwards, was a little ship.
“I thought it might be.”
“We leave tomorrow to capture a fortress. It isn’t supposed to be heavily defended, but no one’s sure. After that, God knows what happens. There’s a madman who wants us to invade France, but between you and me we’re not.”
Frederickson grinned, then turned and looked at the two Companies of Riflemen. “We’re capturing a fort all by our little selves?”
“The Navy says a few Marines might be well enough to help us.”
“That’s very decent of them.” Frederickson stared at the great bulk of the Vengeance. Barges, propelled by huge sweeps, were taking casks of water from the harbour to the huge ship.
“You’ll draw extra ammunition,” Sharpe said. “The First Division’s paying for it.”
„I’ll rob the bastards blind,“ Frederickson said happily.
“And tonight you’ll do me the honour of dining with Jane and myself?”
“I’d like to meet her.” Frederickson sounded guarded.
“She’s wonderful.” Sharpe said it warmly, and Frederickson, seeing his friend’s enthusiasm, hoped that a new wife had not sapped Sharpe’s appetite for the bloody business that lay ahead at Arcachon.
Commandant Henri Lassan thought he detected sleet in the dawn, but he could not be sure until he climbed to the western bastion and saw how the flakes settled briefly on the great cheeks of his guns before melting into cold rivulets of water. The guns were loaded, as they always were, but their muzzles and vent-holes were stoppered against the damp. “Good morning, Sergeant!”
“Sir!” The sergeant stamped his feet and slapped his hands against the cold.
Lassan’s orderly climbed the stone ramp with a tray of coffee-mugs. Lassan always brought the morning guard a mug of coffee each and the men appreciated the small gesture. The Commandant, they said, was a gentleman.
Children ran across the courtyard and women’s voices sounded from the kitchens. There should not be women in the fort, but Lassan had let the families of his gun crews take up the quarters vacated by the infantry who had gone to the northern battles. Lassan believed his men were less likely to desert if their families were inside the defences.
“There she is, sir.” The sergeant pointed through the sleeting rain.
Lassan looked over the narrow Arcachon channel where the tide raced across the shoals. Beyond the sandbanks the surging grey waves were torn by wind into a maelstrom of broken white water amidst which, beating southwards, was a little ship.