bcornwell.sharpescompany-第45部分
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
thick as a battleship's main mast； and from each chained timber there sprang a thousand sabre blades； the blade barrier； thick as a porcupine's coat； to hook and tear any man who reached the summit。 If any did。
He found the Colonel of his next battalion； standing with drawn sword； staring at the fire…edged glacis。 The Colonel glared at Sharpe。 'What's happening？'
'Guns； sir。 e on。' Not that the Colonel needed to be told； or to be guided。 The face of the Santa Maria bastion was a sheet of reflected flame and they marched towards it as； suddenly； the canister whistled down the slope and cut huge swathes through the Battalion。 The men closed ranks； marched on； nearer the lip； and the gunners doused the glacis with bursting canister and the Colonel waved his sword。 'e on！'
They ran； order disappearing； and hurled themselves at the ditch。 Bodies littered the glacis； twitched by new blasts of shot； and still more men climbed the slope and poured into the vast fire bowl。 Men jumped towards hay…bags and landed； instead； on the dead or wounded。 The living pushed forward towards the breach； trying to claw their way to the shattered stone； and each time the French gunners； high on the terrifying walls； swatted them back so that the ditch floor was thick with blood。 Sharpe watched； appalled。 His orders were to go back to where the reserve waited； to guide more men forward； but no man needed to be guided this night。 He stayed。
Not one man had reached a breach。 The ditch between the glacis and the ravelin was black with men； disorganized men； the mingling of the Fourth and Light Divisions。 Some cowered there for safety； thinking the shadow of the ravelin would give them protection from the guns that scorched down at them。 But there was no safety。 The guns could reach every inch of the ditch； firing in scientific patterns； killing； killing； killing； but for the moment they fired only where the British moved； towards the breaches； and the spaces before the great； stone ramps were thickening with dead。 The guns fired canister； tin cans that burst apart in the muzzle flame and scattered musket balls like giant duck…shot； while other guns were loaded with grapeshot； naval ammunition； that rattled against the ditch wall。
It was not just the guns。 The defenders hurled anything that would kill from the ramparts。 Stone lumps； the size of a man's head； crashed down into the ditch； gun…shells； their fuses cut to a quarter inch and lit by hand； fizzed down and sent red hot fragments scything on the ditch's floor； and even kegs of powder； fused and lit； were rolled down the breach slope。 Sharpe watched one barrel； bouncing and tumbling； its fuse spinning madly red； finally leap into the ditch and explode in the face of a dozen Riflemen who were running for the Santa Maria breach。 Only three lived； blinded and screaming； and one of them wandered； insensate with pain； into the burning timbers that blocked the path to the new breach。 Sharpe fancied he could hear the man's dying screams bubble with the flames； but there were so many dying； and so much noise； that he could not be certain。
The noise of the living in the ditch was a growl and； suddenly； it rose to a sound of fury and Sharpe looked right to see a wave of men； Riflemen and red…jackets； charging forward。 He groaned。 They had stormed their way up the ravelin's sloping face； desperate for victory； and the burgeoning attack spread out on the diamond's top flat surface and ran with leveled bayonets towards the new breach。 The French were waiting。 Guns that had not fired were touched with flame； the grapeshot ripped in from three sides and the attack died in a dancing horror as men were struck as by contrary iron winds。 A few lived； ran on； and found that the ravelin led to another sheer drop； into another ditch before the breach and； as they hesitated； the French infantry dropped them with musket fire and there was nothing but bodies left on the ravelin's top； bodies that had fallen and left unrecognizable dark smears on the stone。
The guns were winning the night。 The ditch was blocked by fire。 Men could not go right or left because of the flaming timbers that jammed the main ditch on either side of the two bastions； just as the approaches to the third breach were blocked。 The four fires； fed with fresh timber from the walls； defined where the British could go； a space that was terrible with gunfire。 Yet still more men went over the edge； hurrying down the ladders as if there was some safety in the milling； scrambling horde that bulged at the edges as fresh groups charged towards a breach。 The ditch was filling with men； hundreds and hundreds of men； shouting men； holding their bayonets above the crush； and the grapeshot would lick down and clear a space of the living and the space would be filled again as men trampled the dying。 The guns would belch again； and again； and the metal scraps turned the ditch into a charnel house。 Still they went forward； incoherently brave； trying to reach an enemy they could not see or touch； and they died as they cursed and struggled forward。
They went in small groups and Sharpe； crouched on the glacis； watched as an officer or Sergeant led them forward。 Mostly they died in the ditch； but some； at last； reached the breach and clambered upwards。 A dozen men would go and； in seconds； there would be six； and three would reach the stone and begin to climb while the men on the glacis lip； next to Sharpe； knelt up and fired their muskets at the walls as if they could clear the path for the scrambling men。 Sharpe wondered if the French were playing with them。 Sometimes no gun would fire on the small； desperate groups； even though guns swept the approach to the breach； and he would watch them struggle； higher and higher until； casually almost； the enemy would pluck them off the stone； tumble them dead； and a new high…tide mark of blood was marked on the breach。 Once a man even reached the Chesaux de Frise； he swept at the sabre blades with a musket； bellowing defiance； and then he was hit by an unseen French infantryman and he fell； twisting like a rag doll； down the slope and the French jeered him and poured fire down。
Sharpe went right； looking for the Fourth Division and the South Essex； but the ditch was a massive sink of death； of weird shadows cast by the fires； and he could make out no faces in the packed crowd that was filling the space between the ravelin and glacis。 Men sheltered behind parapets made from the dead； others clumsily reloaded muskets and fired them uselessly at the towering stone that crushed them with fire。 He ran for a minute； right on the edge of the glacis； stumbling on the uneven paving and hearing the canister above him； in front of him； yet he was untouched。 Small groups of men were on the glacis lip； Light panies mostly； who rammed and fired； rammed and fired； hoping that their bullets might ricochet from an embrasure and kill a Frenchman。 The canister flung them backwards； ragged down the slope； and beyond the bodies； in the darkness； more men waited for the orders that would send them running to the light； to the ditch； to the hundreds of dead。 Sharpe had never seen so many dead。
He was still fifty yards from the Trinidad； but he could see that its breach was no better than the Santa Maria。 The foot of the breach was smeared with bodies； its approaches bare of the living； though small groups of men dashed from the shadows of the ravelin and screamed defiance as they clawed at the stones and were blasted away。 Bugles sounded to the right； the shouts of officers and Sergeants； and there was the South Essex！ He saw them flowing up the glacis in close column and his pany； Rymer's pany； lined the ditch and fired their ineffectual muskets at the wall's height while the other men scrambled at the ladders； flung themselves on hay…bags； frantic in their haste。 Men bunched at the ditch's edge； the guns hammered from the wall； their hot breath hard on the glacis； and Sharpe saw the Battalion shudder like a wounded thing； reform； smash itself under new impacts。 But they were over； scrambling in the ditch and he saw Windham； his cocked hat gone； scything his sword towards the breach； and new guns fired until the sound of the city was like a weight of solid thunder。
They died in dozens； but still they went towards the breach； and more men came from the ditch； from other Regiments； and they tried； and pushed； and fought； and scrambled up the stone till it seemed they had to win for there was not enough shot in the world to kill so many men。 The gunners rammed and fired； loaded and fired； and the powder kegs banged down the slope； and the shells were thrown； fuses lit； so the dark explosions splintered the men； and they died and it was done。 The dead choked the living； the breach had won。 A few men； very few； still lived and struggled upwards； shredding their hands on the nailed boards laid down the upper slope； and Sharpe saw Leroy； sword in hand； cigar inevitably between his teeth； look up into the night； so slow； and then he fell； tumbling； fell； screaming into the ditch。 A last man reached the sword blades； the very top； he clawed at them； blood on his hands； and then he shook； quivered； f
