bcornwell.sharpescompany-第32部分

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　had　a　chance　to　be　expressed　or　defined。　Sharpe　had　a　reputation；　with　those　who　did　not　know　him　well；　of　being　a　man　short　on　words　and　it　was　true；　he　thought；　except　with　a　handful　of　friends。　Harper　and　Hogan；　Lossow；　the　German　cavalryman；　and　that　was　about　all。　Exiles　to　a　man；　cut　off　from　their　own　countries　and　fighting　with　a　strange　army。　Sharpe　was　an　exile；　too；　a　stranger　in　the　Officers'　Mess。　'You　know　what　the　General　says？'
　
　Harper　shook　his　head。　'Tell　me　what　the　General　says。'
　
　'He　says　that　no　one　ever　promoted　from　the　ranks　turns　out　well。'
　
　'Does　he　now？'
　
　'He　says　they　turn　to　drink。'
　
　'In　this　army；　who　wouldn't？'　Harper　pushed　a　canteen　at　Sharpe。　'Here；　get　yourself　drunk。'
　
　Some　fool　opened　the　door　of　a　lantern　in　the　parallel　and　the　French　gunners；　ever　alert；　saw　the　light　and　suddenly　the　ramparts　of　Badajoz　blossomed　flame　and　shot。　There　were　shouts　from　the　workings；　the　light　disappeared；　but　then　there　was　the　sick　thud　of　the　shots　striking　home　and　the　screams　from　the　trench。　Harper　spat。　'We'll　never　take　this　bloody　town。'
　
　'We　can't　stay　here　for　ever。'
　
　'That's　what　you　said　when　you　first　went　to　Ireland。'
　
　Sharpe　grinned。　'It's　the　wele　you　give　us。　We　don't　want　to　leave。　Anyway；　we　like　the　weather。'
　
　'You　can　keep　it。'　Harper　squinted　up　into　the　darkness。　'Christ！　I　wish　the　rain　would　stop！'
　
　'I　thought　the　Irish　liked　rain。'
　
　'We　love　rain；　so　we　do；　but　this　isn't　rain。'
　
　'What　is　it？'
　
　'It's　the　flood；　the　deluge；　the　end　of　the　whole　sodden　world。'
　
　Sharpe　leaned　back　on　a　wicker　gabion；　abandoned　by　a　working　party；　and　stared　up。　'I　haven't　seen　the　stars　in　a　week。　Longer。'
　
　'That's　true。'
　
　'I　like　stars。'
　
　'That's　nice　for　them。'　Harper　was　amused；　he　did　not　often　hear　Sharpe's　tongue　loosened　by　drink。
　
　'No；　really。　You　like　birds；　I　like　stars。'
　
　'Birds　do　things。　They　fly；　make　nests。　You　can　watch　them。'
　
　Sharpe　said　nothing。　He　remembered　the　nights　lying　in　fields；　head　on　haversack；　body　inside　the　sewn　blanket；　and　legs　thrust　into　the　arms　of　the　jacket　which　was　buttoned　upside　down　on　his　stomach。　It　was　the　soldier's　way　of　sleeping；　but　on　some　nights　he　would　simply　lie　there　and　watch　the　great　smear　in　the　sky　that　was　like　the　camp　fires　of　an　unimaginably　huge　army。　Legion　upon　inprehensible　legion；　up　there　in　the　sky；　and　he　knew　that　they　were　ing　nearer；　night　by　night；　and　the　picture　was　confused　in　his　head　by　the　strange；　drunken　preachers　who　had　e　to　the　foundling　home　when　he　was　a　child。　The　stars　were　mixed　up　with　the　four　horsemen　of　the　apocalypse；　the　last　trump；　the　second　ing；　the　raising　of　the　dead；　and　the　lights　in　the　night　were　the　army　of　the　world's　end。　〃The　world　won't　end　in　a　flood。　It'll　be　bayonets　and　battalions。　A　bloody　great　battle。'
　
　'As　long　as　we're　in　the　skirmish　line；　sir；　I　don't　mind。'　Harper　drank　more　rum。　'I　must　save　some　for　the　morning。'
　
　Sharpe　sat　up。　'Hagman's　bribing　the　drummer　boys。'
　
　'Never　works。'　Harper　was　right。　The　drummer　boys　did　the　flogging　and　were　usually　bribed　by　the　victim's　friends；　but　under　the　gaze　of　the　officers　they　were　forced　to　lay　on　with　their　full　strength。
　
　Sharpe　stared　at　the　dark　bulk　of　Badajoz；　relieved　by　a　few　hazed　lights。　There　was　a　fire　burning　in　one　of　the　castle's　many　courtyards。　The　dull；　brief　bell　of　the　Cathedral　rang　the　half…hour。　'If　only　she　wasn't　there。。。'　He　stopped。
　
　'What？'
　
　'I　don't　know。'
　
　'If　she　wasn't　there。'　Harper's　Ulster　accent　was　slow；　as　if　he　was　treading　very　carefully。　'You'd　be　tempted　to　bugger　off。　Is　that　right？　Up　to　the　hills？　To　fight　with　the　Partisans？'
　
　'I　don't　know。'
　
　'You　do。　Do　you　think　no　one　else　has　thought　of　it？'　Harper　meant　himself。　'You're　not　a　fair　weather　soldier　only。'
　
　'We'll　get　desertions　soon。'
　
　'Aye；　if　Hakeswill　isn't　buried　soon。'　No　one　had　deserted　from　the　Battalion　for　months。　Other　battalions　were　losing　men；　a　handful　each　day　who　slipped　across　to　Badajoz。　There　was　traffic　the　other　way；　too；　including；　so　Hogan　had　told　Sharpe；　a　French　Engineer　Sergeant　who　brought　with　him　the　plans　of　the　defences。　The　plans　held　few　surprises；　except　confirmation　that　the　western　glacis　was　thickly　mined。
　
　Sharpe　changed　the　subject。　'Know　how　many　died　today？'
　
　'Was　it　today？'　Harper　sounded　surprised。　'It　seems　like　last　week。'
　
　'A　hundred　of　us。　They　counted　nearly　three　hundred　French。　And　some　of　them　drowned；　too。　Poor　bastards。'
　
　'They　always　see　double　counting　the　French。'　Harper　was　scornful。　'And　the　French　are　probably　boasting　they　killed　a　thousand　of　us。'
　
　'They　didn't　do　much　damage。'
　
　'No。'　The　French　had　hoped　to　set　the　siege　back　by　at　least　a　week；　by　forcing　the　British　to　re…dig　the　whole　parallel。　A　week　gained　would　be　an　extra　week　during　which　a　French　field　army　might　march　to　the　garrison's　relief。　Harper　opened　another　canteen。　The　assault　will　be　rough。'
　
　'Yes。'
　
　The　rain　hissed　down；　seething　on　the　soaked　ground；　thudding　monotonously　on　the　canvas。　It　was　bitterly　cold。　Harper　offered　Sharpe　the　new　canteen。　'I　have　an　idea。'
　
　'Tell　me。'　Sharpe　yawned。
　
　'Am　I　keeping　you　up？'
　
　'What's　your　idea？'
　
　'I'm　volunteering　for　the　Forlorn　Hope。'
　
　Sharpe　snorted。　'Don't　be　a　bloody　fool。　You　want　to　live；　don't　you？'
　
　'I'm　not　being　a　fool；　and　I　want　to　be　a　Sergeant　again。　Will　you　ask　for　me？'
　
　Sharpe　shrugged。　'They　don't　listen　to　me　any　more。'
　
　'I　said；　will　you　ask？'　Harper's　voice　was　stubborn。
　
　Sharpe　could　not　imagine　Harper　dead。　He　shook　his　head。　'No。'
　
　'You　keeping　it　for　yourself？'　The　words　were　spoken　harshly。　Sharpe　turned　and　looked　at　the　huge　man。　There　was　no　point　in　denial。
　
　'How　did　you　know？'
　
　Harper　laughed。　'How　long　have　I　been　with　you？　Mary；　Mother　of　God；　do　you　think　I'm　a　fool？　You　lose　your　Captaincy　and　what　will　you　do？　You'll　go　screaming　up　some　bloody　breach　with　your　sword　waving　because　you'd　rather　be　dead　than　lose　your　bloody　pride。'
　
　Sharpe　knew　it　was　true。　'What　about　you？'
　
　I'd　like　the　stripes　back。'
　
　'Pride？'
　
　'Why　not？　They　keep　saying　the　Irish　are　fools；　but　I　notice　precious　few　laughing　at　me。'
　
　〃That　could　be　your　size；　not　your　stripes。'
　
　'Aye；　maybe；　but　I'll　not　have　them　saying　I　failed。　So　you've　volunteered？'
　
　Sharpe　nodded。　'Yes。　But　they　won't　choose　anyone　yet；　not　till　the　assault。'
　
　'And　if　they　choose　you；　will　you　take　me？'
　
　'Yes。'　He　said　the　word　with　reluctance。
　
　The　Irishman　nodded。　'Let's　hope　they　choose　you；　then。'
　
　'Pray　for　a　miracle。'
　
　Harper　laughed。'　You　don't　want　a　miracle。　They　always　turn　out　bad。'　He　drank　rum。　'St　Patrick　turns　out　all　the　snakes　from　Ireland　and　what　happens？　We　get　so　bored　that　we　let　the　English　in　to　take　their　place。　The　poor　man　must　be　turning　in　his　grave。　Snakes　were　better。'
　
　Sharpe　shook　his　head。　'If　Ireland　were　five　times　bigger；　and　England　five　times　smaller；　then　you'd　be　doing　the　same　to　us。'
　
　Harper　laughed　again。　'Now　that　would　be　a　miracle　worth　praying　for。'
　
　Guns　boomed　to　their　right；　across　the　river；　as　the　cannon　in　the　San　Cristobel　Fort　fired　over　the　Guadiana　towards　the　parallel。　The　long；　spitting　fire　was　reflected　in　the　dark　water。　The　gunners　on　the　city　wall；　not　to　be　outdone；　fired　their　pieces　and　the　night　was　filled　with　the　noise。
　
　Harper　shivered　with　the　cold。　'I'll　pray　for　another　miracle。'
　
　'What？'
　
　'A　chance　to　get　Hakeswill。'　He　nodded　towards　the　city。　'In　one　of　those　little　alleyways。　I'll　tear　his　bloody　head　off。'
　
　'What　makes　you　think　we'll　get　through　the　wall？'
　
　Harper　gave　a　humorless　laugh。　'You　don't　really　think　we　can　fail；　do　you？'
　
　'No。'　But　then　he　had　not　really　thought　he　could　lose　his　Captaincy；　had　not　thought　he　could　lose　the　pany；　and　not　in　his　worst　dreams　had　he　ever　thought　he　would　have　to　stand　and　watch　Patrick　Harper　being　flogged。　The　cold；　wet　night　dru