bcornwell.sharpescompany-第29部分

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talions　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　drummed　on；　bringing　the　bad　dreams　true。
　
　CHAPTER　16
　
　Rain；　and　more　rain；　increasing　in　vehemence；　so　by　dawn　it　was　seen　that　the　river　had　flooded；　was　foaming　white　and　high　on　the　stone　arches　of　the　old　bridge　and；　far　more　seriously；　had　swept　the　pontoon　bridge　downstream。
　
　'pany！'　The　last　syllable　was　drawn　out；　mingling　with　the　shouts　of　other　Sergeants。　'Shun！'
　
　'Stand　still！　Eyes　front！'
　
　A　jingle　of　bridles　and　bits　brought　the　Battalion's　senior　officers　into　the　cleared　space　at　the　centre　of　the　paraded　panies。　Two　sides　of　the　rectangle　were　each　formed　by　three　panies；　four　panies　were　paraded　on　one　long　side　and　faced　the　solitary　wooden　triangle。
　
　'Order　arms！'　Again　and　again。　Hands　slapped　on　wet　wood；　the　brass　hilts　slopped　into　the　muck。　Rain　slanted　on　the　ranks。
　
　Sergeants　marched　stiffly　through　the　sludge；　slammed　into　attention　and　saluted。　'pany　on　parade；　sir！'　The　mounted　Captains；　miserable　in　their　cloaks；　acknowledged。
　
　'Battalion　ready　for　punishment　parade；　sir！'
　
　'Very　good；　Major。　At　ease。'
　
　〃Talion！'　Collett's　voice　rode　over　wind　and　rain。　'Stand　at　。。。　ease！'　There　was　a　convulsive　shuffle　in　the　mud。
　
　Sharpe；　his　head　foul　from　the　night's　drinking；　had　paraded　with　the　Light　pany。　Rymer　was　embarrassed；　but　it　was　Sharpe's　place；　and　Hakeswill's　yellow　face　was　expressionless。　A　pulse　throbbed　beneath　the　livid　scar　on　the　Sergeant's　neck。　Daniel　Hagman；　the　old　Rifleman；　had　e　to　Sharpe　before　the　parade　and　told　him　that　the　pany　was　mutinous。　It　was　doubtless　an　exaggeration；　but　Sharpe　could　see　the　men　were　sullen；　angry　and；　above　all；　shocked。　The　only　good　news　was　that　Windham　had　cut　the　punishment　to　sixty　lashes。　Major　Hogan　had　paid　the　Colonel　a　visit　and；　although　the　Engineer　had　failed　to　persuade　Windham　of　Harper's　innocence；　he　had　impressed　him　by　describing　Harper's　record。　The　Battalion　waited　in　the　sweeping　rain；　full　of　cold　misery。
　
　〃Talion！　Shun！'　Another　shuffle　and　Harper　appeared　between　two　guards。　The　Irishman　was　stripped　to　the　waist；　showing　the　massive　muscles　of　his　arms　and　chest。　He　walked　easily；　ignoring　the　rain　and　mud；　and　grinned　towards　the　Light　pany。　He　seemed　the　least　concerned　man　on　the　parade。
　
　They　lashed　his　wrists　high　on　the　triangle；　spread　his　legs　and　tied　them　at　the　base；　and　then　a　Sergeant　pushed　the　folded　leather　between　Harper's　teeth　so　that　he　would　not　bite　his　tongue　off　in　the　pain。　The　Battalion's　doctor；　a　sickly　man　with　a　streaming　nose；　gave　Harper's　back　a　cursory　inspection。　He　was　obviously　healthy。　A　leather　strip　was　tied　round　his　kidneys；　the　doctor　nodded　miserably　at　Collett；　the　Major　spoke　to　Windham；　and　the　Colonel　nodded。　'Carry　on！'
　
　The　drumsticks　came　down　on　soggy　skins。　The　Sergeant　nodded　at　the　two　lads。　'One！'
　
　Sharpe　remembered　it。　His　own　flogging　had　been　in　a　village　square　in　India。　He　had　been　tied　to　an　ox…cart；　not　a　triangle；　but　he　remembered　the　first　slashing　cut　with　the　leather　thongs；　the　involuntary　arching　of　the　back；　the　teeth　grinding　into　the　leather；　and　the　surprise　that　it　was　not　as　bad　as　he　had　expected。　He　had　almost　got　used　to　the　blows；　was　feeling　confident；　and　resented　it　when　the　doctor　stopped　the　lashes　to　check　that　he　was　still　capable　of　receiving　more　punishment。　Later；　the　pain　had　blurred。　It　had　begun　to　hurt；　really　to　hurt；　as　the　lashes　tore　at　the　skin　and　the　alternate　blows；　from　two　sides；　ripped　and　frayed　till　the　watching　Battalion　saw　the　glint　of　bone　laid　open　as　the　blood　dripped　on　to　the　village　dust。
　
　God！　It　had　hurt！
　
　The　South　Essex　watched　in　silence。　The　drums；　their　skins　stretched　by　the　rain；　could　hardly　be　heard；　they　were　like　the　muffled　beats　of　a　funeral。　The　lashes　sounded　soggy　as　they　drew　blood；　the　Sergeant　in　charge　of　the　flogging　chanted　the　numbers；　and　in　the　background　the　French　guns　fired　on。
　
　The　drummer　boys　paused。　The　doctor　stepped　close　to　Harper's　back；　sneezed；　and　nodded　to　the　Sergeant。
　
　'Twenty…five！'
　
　The　rain　diluted　the　blood。
　
　'Twenty…six！'
　
　Sharpe　looked　at　Hakeswill。　Was　there　a　glint　of　triumph　in　the　face？　It　was　impossible　to　tell。　The　face　twitched　in　a　spasm。
　
　'Twenty…seven！'
　
　Harper　turned　his　head　to　face　the　Light　pany。　He　was　not　moving　at　all　as　the　blows　hit　him。　He　spat　out　the　leather　gag；　grinned　at　them。
　
　'Twenty…eight！　Harder！'
　
　A　drummer　boy　used　all　his　strength。　Harper　grinned　even　wider。
　
　'Stop　it！'　Collett　stepped　his　horse　forward。　'Put　the　gag　in！'
　
　They　pushed　the　leather　back　in　Harper's　mouth；　but　he　spat　it　out　again；　and　grinned　through　the　punishment。　There　was　an　appreciative　murmur　from　the　Light　pany；　almost　a　laugh；　and　they　saw　that　Harper　was　chatting　to　the　drummer　boys。　The　bastard　had　beaten　the　punishment！　Sharpe　knew　it　was　hurting　him；　but　knew　that　Harper's　pride　would　not　let　it　show；　would　only　let　him　pretend　a　total　unconcern。
　
　The　punishment　finished；　made　almos