bcornwell.sharpescompany-第21部分

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　Sharpe。　'All　ready；　Mr。　Sharpe？'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'
　
　'Keep　the　baggage　close　when　we　cross！'
　
　'Yes；　sir。'　No；　sir；　three　bags　full；　sir。　'Sir？'
　
　'Mr。　Sharpe？'　Windham　was　eager　to　be　away。
　
　'Have　you　forwarded　my　request；　sir？'
　
　'No；　Mr。　Sharpe；　much　too　early　My　pliments！'　The　Colonel　touched　the　tassel　on　his　bicorne　and　wheeled　his　horse　away。
　
　Sharpe　hitched　his　sword　up；　useless　to　him　for　counting　spades　and　pick…axes；　and　trudged　over　the　mud　towards　the　Battalion's　baggage。　Each　pany　kept　a　mule　that　carried　the　books；　the　endless　paperwork　that　went　with　a　Captaincy；　a　few　paltry　supplies　and；　quite　illegally；　some　officers'　baggage　as　well。　Other　mules　carried　the　Battalion　supplies；　the　spare　arms　chest；　uniforms；　more　paperwork；　and　the　surgeon's　grim　load。　Mixed　with　the　mules　were　the　officers'　servants；　leading　spare　horses　and　packhorses；　and；　mingled　among　them　all；　the　children。　They　shrieked　and　played　round　the　animals'　legs；　watched　by　their　mothers　who　crouched　beneath　makeshift　shelters　waiting　for　the　order　to　march。　By　regulation　there　should　be　just　sixty　wives　with　the　Battalion；　but　inevitably；　after　three　years　at　war；　the　South　Essex　had　collected　far　more。　There　were　nearer　three　hundred　women　marching　with　the　Battalion；　the　same　number　of　children；　and　they　were　a　mixture　of　English；　Irish；　Scottish；　Welsh；　Spanish　and　Portuguese；　there　was　even　a　Frenchwoman；　left　behind　in　the　fighting　at　Fuentes　de　Onoro；　who　had　chosen　to　stay　with　her　captors　and　had　married　a　Sergeant　in　Sterritt's　pany。　Some　were　whores；　following　the　army's　meager　pennies；　some　were　proper　wives　with　papers　to　prove　it；　while　some　called　themselves　wives　and　did　not　need　the　ceremony。　All　were　tough。　Many　had　married　twice　or　three　times　in　the　war；　having　lost　their　husbands　to　a　French　bullet　or　a　Spanish　fever。
　
　The　previous　morning　Windham　had　cancelled　the　wives'　parade。　In　barracks　the　parade　made　some　sense；　it　kept　a　Colonel　in　touch　with　the　families　and　gave　a　good　officer　a　chance　to　detect　brutality；　but　the　women　of　the　South　Essex　did　not　like　the　parade；　were　not　used　to　it；　and　had　showed　their　discontent。　The　very　first　time　that　Sharpe　had　lined　them　for　Windham's　inspection　Private　Clayton's　wife；　a　pretty　girl；　had　been　suckling　her　baby。　The　Colonel　had　stopped；　glanced　down；　and　frowned　at　her。　'This　is　hardly　the　time；　woman！'
　
　She　had　grinned；　lifted　her　breasts　towards　him。　'When　'e's　'ungry；　'e's　'ungry；　just　like　'is　father。'　There　was　a　chorus　of　laughter　from　the　wives；　jeers　from　the　men；　and　Windham　had　strode　away。　Jessica　would　have　known　what　to　do；　but　not　he。
　
　Now；　as　Sharpe　approached　the　rain…swept　baggage；　the　women　grinned　at　him　from　beneath　their　blankets。　Lily　Grimes；　a　tiny　woman　of　irrepressible　cheerfulness；　and　a　voice　with　the　piercing　quality　of　a　well…honed　bayonet；　gave　him　a　mock　salute。　'Given　up　parading　us；　Cap'n？'　The　women　always　called　him　Captain。
　
　'That's　right；　Lily。'
　
　She　sniffed。　'He's　mad。'
　
　'Who？'
　
　'Bloody　Colonel。　What　did　he　want　us　to　parade　for；　anyway？'
　
　Sharpe　grinned。　'He　worries　about　you；　Lily。　He　likes　to　keep　an　eye　on　you。'
　
　She　shook　her　head。　'He　wants　to　look　at　Sally　Clayton's　tits　more　like。'　She　laughed　and　peered　up　at　Sharpe。　'You　didn't　look　away　either；　Cap'n。　I　watched　you。　〃
　
　'I　was　just　wishing　it　had　been　you；　Lily。　〃
　
　She　shrieked　with　laughter。　'Any　time；　Cap'n；　you　just　ask。　'
　
　Sharpe　laughed；　walked　away　from　her。　He　admired　the　wives；　and　he　liked　them。　They　endured　all　the　disforts　of　the　campaign；　the　nights　under　pouring　rain；　the　hard　rations；　the　long　marches；　yet　they　never　gave　up。　They　watched　their　men　go　into　battle　and　afterwards　they　searched　the　field　for　a　corpse　or　a　wounded　husband；　and　all　the　while　they　brought　up　their　children　and　looked　after　their　men。　Sharpe　had　seen　Lily　carrying　two　of　her　children　up　a　hard　road；　her　husband's　musket；　and　the　family's　few　belongings　as　well。　They　were　tough。
　
　And　they　were　not　ladies；　three　years　in　the　Peninsula　had　made　sure　of　that。　Some　dressed　in　old　uniforms；　most　were　garbed　in　voluminous；　filthy　skirts　with　tattered　shawls　and　scarves　around　their　heads。　They　were　tanned　dark　brown；　with　calloused　hands　and　feet；　and　most　could　strip　a　corpse　bare　in　ten　seconds；　a　house　in　thirty。　They　were　foul…mouthed；　loud；　and　utterly　immodest。　No　women　could　live　with　a　battalion　and　be　anything　else。　They　slept　with　their　men；　often　enough；　in　open　fields　with　nothing　but　a　tree　or　hedge　to　give　an　illusion　of　privacy。　The　women　washed　themselves；　relieved　themselves；　made　love；　gave　birth；　and　all　in　plain　sight　of　a　thousand　eyes。　To　a　fastidious　observer　they　were　a　fearful　sight；　yet　Sharpe　liked　them。　They　were　tough；　loyal；　kind　and　unplaining。
　
　Major　Collett　bawled　an　order　for　the　Battalion　to　make　ready；　and　Sharpe　turned　to　his　mand；　the　baggage。　It　was　chaos。　Two　children　had　succeeded　in　cutting　the　pannier　from　one　of　the　Sutler's　mules；　and　the　Sutler；　a　Spaniard　who　was　a　kind　of　traveling　shop…keeper　with　the　Battalion；　was　screaming　at　the　children；　but　not　daring　to　let　go　of　the　straw　halter　that　tethered　his　other　mules。
　
　Sharpe　yelled　at　them。　'Make　ready！'　They　took　no　notice。　The　Sutler's　assistants　caught　the　children；　snatched　back　the　bottles；　but　then　the　mothers；　sensing　loot；　attacked　the　assistants　for　beating　the　children。　It　was　pandemonium；　his　new　mand。
　
　'Richard！'　Sharpe　twisted　back。　Major　Hogan　was　behind　him。
　
　'Sir。'
　
　Hogan　grinned　down　from　his　horse。　'We're　very　formal　today。'
　
　'We're　very　responsible。　Look。'　Sharpe　waved　at　the　baggage　train。　'My　new　pany。'
　
　'I　heard。'　Hogan　slipped　from　his　horse；　stretched；　and　then　turned　as　there　were　sudden　shouts　from　the　bridge。　An　officer's　horse　had　bee　frightened　by　the　sliding；　grey　water。　It　was　nervously　backing　in　short；　jerking　steps　towards　the　infantry　pany　behind。　The　Captain；　panicking；　was　whipping　the　beast；　increasing　its　terror；　and　the　horse　began　to　rear　fitfully。
　
　'Get　off！'　Hogan　shouted。　He　had　a　surprisingly　loud　voice。　Tool！　Get　off！　Dismount！'
　
　The　officer　lashed　down　at　the　horse；　wrenched　the　reins；　and　the　horse　put　all　its　force　into　bucking　the　rider　off　its　back。　It　succeeded。　The　horse　slammed　up；　screaming；　and　the　officer　tumbled　from　the　saddle；　bounced　once　on　the　roadway's　edge；　and　disappeared　downstream　into　the　river。　'Stupid　bastard！'　Hogan　was　angry。　A　Sergeant　threw　a　length　of　timber　into　the　water；　but　it　fell　short；　and　Sharpe　could　see　the　Captain　flailing　the　river；　struggling　against　the　freezing　current　that　took　him　away　from　the　bridge。　'He's　had　it。'
　
　No　one　dived　in　to　save　the　officer。　By　the　time　a　man　had　stripped　himself　of　pack；　haversack；　ammunition　pouch；　weapons　and　boots　the　Captain　would　be　long　gone。　The　horse；　free　of　its　burden；　stood　shivering　on　the　bridge　and　a　Private　soothed　it；　then　led　it　calmly　to　the　southern　bank。　The　Captain　had　disappeared。
　
　'There's　a　vacancy。'　Sharpe　laughed。
　
　'Bitter？'
　
　'Bitter；　sir？　No；　sir。　Being　a　Lieutenant　is　very　satisfying。'
　
　Hogan　gave　a　sad　smile。　'I　hear　you　were　drunk。'
　
　'No。'　He　had　been　drunk　three　times　since　the　day　Teresa　left；　the　day　he　had　lost　the　pany。　Sharpe　shrugged。　'You　know　that　gazette　was　refused　in　January？　No　one　dared　tell　me。　Then　the　new　man　arrives　so　someone　has　to　tell　me。　So　I　look　after　the　baggage　while　some　half…cooked　youngster　destroys　my　pany。'
　
　'Is　he　that　bad？'
　
　'I　don't　know。　I'm　sorry。'　Sharpe's　anger　had　taken　himself　by　surprise。
　
　'Do　you　want　me　to　talk　to　the　General？'
　
　'No！'　Pride　would　stop　Sharpe　bleating　for　help；　but　then　he　turned　back。　'Yes；　you　can　talk　to　the　General。　Tell　him　I'll　lead　the　Forlorn　Hope　for　him　at　Badajoz。　'
　
　Hogan　paused　with　a　pinch　of　snuff　half…way　to　his　nostrils。　He　put　it　back　in　the　box；　carefully；　and　snapped　the　lid　shut。　'Are　you　serious？'
　
　'I'm　serious。'
　
　Hogan　shook　his　head。　'You　don't　need　it；　Richard。　God！　There'll　be　promotion　by　the　grave　load！　Don't　you　understand？　You'll　be　a　Captain　within　a　month。'
　
　Sharpe　shook　his　head。　He　understood；　but　his　pride　was　hurt。　'I　want　the　Hope；　sir；　I　want　it。　Ask　for　me。'
　
　Hogan　took　Sharpe's　elbow　and　turned　him　so　they　were　both　looking　eastwards　along　the　river　towards　the　city。　'Do　you　know　what　it's　like；　Richard？　It's　bloody　impossible！'　He　pointed　to　the　great　stone　bridge　that　carried　the　road　to　the　city。　'We　can't　attack　there。　Anyone　trying　to　cross　that　bridge　will　be　shredded。　So；　try　the　east　wall。　They've　damned　the　stream　and　it's　one　bloody　great　lake。　We'd　need　the　navy　to　cross　that；　unless　we　can　blow　up　the　dam　and　they've　built　a　fort　to　stop　us　doing　that。　There's　the　castle；　of　course。'　Hogan's　words　were　urgent；　almost　bitter。　'If　you　feel　like　climbing　a　hundred　feet　of　rock　and　then　scaling　a　forty　foot　wall；　and　all　the　time　dodging　the　grapeshot；　you're　wele。'　He　pointed　again。　'So　there's　the　west　wall。　Looks　easy　enough；　doesn't　it？'　It　did　not　look　easy。　Even　at　four　miles　Sharpe　could　s