Sharpes Siege   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

“Taken in the rear, their Defences broken, the Enemy retreated to the Inner Galleries of their Fortress where, with Fortitude and Determination, the Marines I had the Honour and Happiness to command, overpressed the Foe. Great Carnage was done upon the Enemy before a Surrender was accepted, whereupon I had the Privilege of Raising His Majesty’s Flag upon the Captured Mast.” Bampfylde had indeed ordered the flag raised, and it handily gave the impression that he had been present when the fort was captured.

And in all honesty, Bampfylde persuaded himself, he had captured the Teste de Buch. It had been his plan, his execution, and, though the Rifles had undoubtedly reached the fort first and taken possession of the gate and ramparts, the Marines, in exploring the labyrinthine tunnels and store-rooms, had discovered six French gunners hiding in a latrine. The existence of those men proved that the Rifles had not possessed all the fortress, and that it had been the Marines, under Bampfylde’s command, who had achieved that task. Captain Bampfylde felt certain that his account, far from being unfair, was a model of generous objectivity.

“Among the prisoners taken were the crew of the American Privateer, Thuella, which crew included in their numbers some Deserters from His Majesty’s Navy.“ Writing that line gave Captain Bampfylde particular satisfaction. Tomorrow he would have those men hanged. Sharpe would be leaving, and when Sharpe was gone Captain Bampfylde would show his men how a privateer’s crew was treated.

A knock sounded on the door. Bampfylde scowled at the interruption, but looked up. “Come!”

“Sir?” An astonished Lieutenant Ford stood there. “They’re letting them go, sir. The Americans.”

“Go?” Bampfylde stared with disbelief at his lieutenant.

“Gone rather, sir.” Ford shrugged helplessly. “Major Sharpe’s orders, sir.”

Bampfylde felt a pulse of hatred so fierce and so deep that he thought that never could he assuage such a feeling. Then he knew he must try. “Wait.”

He dipped his quill into ink, and the nib emerged coated with vitriol. “Those prisoners, condemned for Desertion or Piracy, were Released, without my Knowledge nor Consent, by Major Richard Sharpe, Prince of Wales’s Own Volunteers, whom we had Conveyed to the Teste de Buch, together with a small Force of soldiery, for Operations in the interior.