bcornwell.sharpescompany-第20章

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d　by　mud　or　rain；　but　a　few　exploded　in　black　smoke　and　jagged　iron　fragments。　They　did　no　damage；　the　range　was　too　great；　and　after　a　time　the　French　stopped　the　shell…fire　and　saved　the　howitzers　for　the　digging　of　the　second　parallel；　lower　down　the　hill　and　much　closer　to　the　walls。
　
　Sharpe　walked　along　the　hilltop　and　searched　for　the　South　Essex。　He　found　them　at　the　northern　end　of　the　parallel　where　the　hill　had　dropped　away　to　the　soaking　plain　beside　the　grey；　swollen　river。　Any　batteries　dug　here　would　be　firing　up　at　the　castle　that　seemed　vast　and　inviolable　on　its　rock　hill。　Sharpe　could　see；　as　well；　the　San　Roque　Fort；　the　small　fortress　that　Hogan　had　mentioned；　which　defended　the　dam　across　the　Rivillas　stream。　If　the　British　could　blow　up　the　dam；　the　lake　would　drain　north　into　the　river　and　the　approach　to　the　breach　would　be　far　easier。　But　to　blow　up　the　dam　would　be　difficult。　It　looked　to　be　no　more　than　fifty　yards　from　the　city　wall　and　built　just　beneath　the　San　Pedro；　the　single　bastion　on　the　eastern　side。
　
　A　figure　jumped　out　of　the　trench　in　front　of　Sharpe。　It　was　Sergeant　Hakeswill。　He　stalked　along　the　trench　edge　and　cursed　down　at　the　men。　'Dig；　you　bastards！　You　syphilitic　pigs！　Dig！'　He　whirled　round　after　a　few　paces　to　see　if　anyone　was　reacting　to　him　and　saw　Sharpe。　He　snapped　into　a　salute；　his　face　twitching　crazily。　'Sir！　Lieutenant；　sir！　e　to　help；　sir？'　He　cackled；　and　turned　back　to　the　Light　pany。　'Get　on　with　it；　you　pregnant　sows！　Dig！'　He　was　leaning　over　the　trench；　screaming　at　them；　spittle　flailing　from　his　mouth。
　
　It　was　an　irresistible　moment。　Sharpe　knew　he　should　not　do　it；　knew　that　it　was　inconsistent　with　the　so…called　dignity　of　an　officer；　but　Hakeswill　was　bending　by　the　trench；　screaming　obscenities；　and　Sharpe　was　close　behind。　The　second　that　the　temptation　came；　Sharpe　acted；　and　pushed　the　Sergeant。　Hakeswill's　arms　beat　at　the　air；　he　twisted；　bellowed；　and　collapsed　into　the　sopping　mud　at　the　bottom　of　the　trench。　The　Light　pany　cheered。　The　Sergeant　turned　a　furious　face　at　Sharpe　as　he　scrambled　to　his　feet。
　
　Sharpe　held　up　a　hand。　'My　apologies；　Sergeant。　I　slipped。　〃　He　knew　it　had　been　a　childish　thing　to　do；　and　unwise；　but　it　was　a　small　gesture　that　told　the　men　he　was　still　on　their　side。　He　walked　on；　leaving　Hakeswill　twitching；　and　saw　Captain　Rymer　climbing　from　the　trench　to　meet　him。
　
　If　Rymer　had　seen　the　incident　he　said　nothing；　instead　he　nodded　civilly。　'Nasty　day。'
　
　Sharpe　felt　his　usual　paralysis　in　the　face　of　small　talk。　He　gestured　at　the　men　in　the　trench。　'Digging　keeps　you　warm。　'　He　suddenly　realized　that　it　sounded　as　if　he　were　telling　Rymer　to　pick　up　a　spade　and　he　scrabbled　in　his　head　for　a　sentence　to　correct　the　impression；　'One　of　the　advantages　of　being　in　the　ranks；　eh？'　He　could　hardly　bring　himself　to　call　Rymer　'sir'。　Rymer　did　not　seem　to　notice。
　
　'They　hate　digging。'
　
　'Wouldn't　you？'
　
　Captain　Rymer　had　never　thought　about　it。　Birth　into　the　Rimes　of　Waltham　Cross　did　not　encourage　a　man　to　think　about　manual　labor。　He　was　a　good…looking　man；　fair…haired；　about　twenty…five　years　old；　and　desperately　nervous　with　Sharpe。　The　situation　was　not　of　Rymer's　making；　not　to　his　taste；　and　he　was　terrified　of　the　time；　that　Colonel　Windham　had　said　was　ing；　when　Sharpe　would　be　returned　to　the　pany　as　Lieutenant。　The　Colonel　had　told　Rymer　not　to　worry。　'Won't　happen　yet。　Give　you　time　to　settle　in；　take　charge。　But　you　may　want　him　in　a　fight；　eh；　Rymer？'　Rymer　did　not　look　forward　to　the　event。
　
　He　looked　up　at　the　tall；　scarred　Rifleman；　took　a　deep　breath。　'Sharpe？'
　
　'Sir？'　The　word　had　to　be　said　sooner　or　later；　however　much　it　hurt。
　
　'I　wanted　to　say　that。。。　'　Whatever　it　was；　would　have　to　wait。　A　French　round　shot　ploughed　into　the　earth　nearby；　spumed　up　soaking　mud；　and　then　came　a　second　and　a　third。　Rymer's　mouth　dropped　open　in　astonishment；　he　froze；　and　Sharpe　grabbed　his　elbow　and　pushed　him　towards　the　trench。　He　followed；　jumping　down　the　five　feet　and　skidding　on　the　trench　floor。
　
　The　air　was　filled　with　the　rumble　of　cannon　balls；　and　the　men　stopped　digging　and　looked　at　each　other　as　if　one　of　them　might　have　the　answer　to　this　sudden　cannonade。　Sharpe　looked　over　the　parapet　and　saw　the　armed　piquets　running　back　for　shelter。　Every　gun　on　Badajoz's　eastern　wall；　from　the　high　castle；　past　the　San　Pedro；　down　to　the　Trinidad　bastion　at　the　south…east　corner；　seemed　to　be　firing　at　the　northern　hundred　yards　of　the　parallel。　Rymer　stood　beside　him。　'What's　happening？'　A　piquet　jumped　over　them；　cursing　the　enemy。　Sharpe　looked　at　Rymer。　'Do　you　have　weapons？'　'No！　Ordered　to　leave　them　behind。　'　'There　must　be　a　pany　here。　'
　
　Rymer　nodded；　pointed　to　the　right。　'The　Grenadier　pany。　They're　armed。　Why？'
　
　Sharpe　pointed　through　the　murk　and　the　rain　to　the　dark　shadows　at　the　foot　of　the　fortress。　ing　from　the　fort　that　guarded　the　Rivillas　dam　were　lines　of　men；　formed　into　marching　blue　ranks　that　melded　into　the　shadows　so　they　were　difficult　to　see。　Rymer　shook　his　head。　'What　is　it？'
　
　'The　bloody　French！'　They　were　ing　in　force；　marching　to　attack　and　destroy　the　parallel；　and　suddenly　they　were　visible　because　they　drew　their　bayonets　and　the　rows　of　steel　glistened　through　the　slanting　rain。
　
　The　French　gunners；　fearful　of　hitting　their　own　men；　stopped　firing。　A　bugle　sounded　and；　on　its　note；　the　hundreds　of　steel　bayonets　dropped　into　the　attack　position　and　the　French　cheered　and　charged。
　
　CHAPTER　13
　
　It　was　unfortunate　for　Captain　Rymer。　He　had　been　anticipating；　with　resolve　and　trepidation；　the　first　time　he　would　lead　his　own　pany　into　action。　He　had　not　imagined　it　to　be　like　this。　Instead　he　had　seen　himself　on　a　wide　hillside；　under　a　brilliant　sky；　with　the　standards　snapping　in　the　wind　and　himself；　sabre　drawn；　taking　a　skirmish　line　against　the　very　centre　of　the　enemy's　battle。　He　sometimes　considered　a　wound；　nothing　too　ghastly；　but　enough　to　make　him　a　hero　back　home　and　his　imagination；　leaping　vast　distances；　saw　him　modestly　telling　the　story　to　a　group　of　admiring　ladies；　while　other　men；　untested　in　battle；　could　only　look　on　in　jealousy。
　
　 Instead　of　which　he　was　at　the　bottom　of　a　muddy　trench；　soaked　to　the　skin；　in　charge　of　men　armed　only　with　spades　and　facing　one　thousand　fully…armed　Frenchmen。　Rymer　froze。　The　pany　looked　to　him　and　past　him　to　Sharpe。　The　Rifleman　hesitated　for　a　second；　saw　Rymer's　indecision；　and　waved　his　arm。　'Back！'
　
　There　was　no　point　in　trying　to　fight；　not　yet；　not　till　the　armed　panies　could　e　together　and　make　a　proper　counter…attack。　The　working　parties　scrambled　out　of　the　trench；　ran　back　over　the　wet　grass；　then　turned　to　watch　the　enemy　jump　into　the　deserted　workings。　The　French　ignored　them；　they　were　interested　in　just　two　things。　They　wanted　to　capture　and　destroy　as　much　of　the　parallel　as　they　could　and；　more　important；　take　back　to　the　city　every　spade　and　pickaxe　they　could　find。　For　each　such　mundane　trophy；　they　had　been　promised　a　reward　of　one　dollar。
　
　Sharpe　began　walking　to　the　top　of　the　hill；　parallel　to　the　trench；　keeping　pace　with　the　French　who　hurled　spades　and　picks　to　their　rades　beyond　the　parapet。　In　front　of　the　enemy；　like　startled　rabbits；　other　working　parties　leaped　from　the　earth　and　scampered　for　safety。　No　one　had　been　hurt　in　the　attack。　Sharpe　doubted　if　any　man　had　tried　to　fire　a　musket　or　lunge　with　a　bayonet。　It　was　almost　farcical。
　
　Above　the　enemy　was　chaos。　The　British；　mostly　unarmed；　moved　like　a　herd　while　the　enemy；　just　yards　away；　systematically　stripped　the　parallel。　Some　of　the　French　tried　to　push　the　parapet　down；　but　the　earth　was　so　sodden　that　it　was　impossible。　The　British；　glad　of　a　diversion　from　the　unending　digging；　jeered　at　them。　One　or　two　Frenchmen　leveled　their　muskets；　but　the　British　were　fifty　yards　away；　doubtful　musket　range；　and　the　rain　was　still　pouring　down。　The　French　were　unwilling　to　unwrap　their　locks　if　there　was　not　to　be　a　real　fight。
　
　'Bloody　chaos；　sir。'　Sergeant　Harper　had　caught　up　with　Sharpe；　strode　easily　alongside　with　a　spade　gripped　in　his　hand。　He　grinned　cheerfully。
　
　Sergeant　Hakeswill；　the　front　of　his　uniform　still　smeared　with　thick　mud；　ran　past　them。　He　gave　them　one　malevolent　glance　and　hurried　on　towards　the　rear　of　the　hill。　Sharpe　wondered　what　the　man　was　doing　and　then　forgot　about　it　as　Captain　Rymer　caught　him。　'Shouldn't　we　be　doing　something？'
　
　Sharpe　shrugged。　'See　if　anyone's　missing？'　There　was　not　much　else　to　be　done；　not　till　the　guard　panies　that　had　been　ordered　to　carry　weapons　could　organize　an　attack　on　the　busy　French。
　
　An　Engineer　in　blue　coat　and　wearing　an　ornate　cocked　hat　ran　towards　the　French。　He　was　shouting　at　the　working　parties　that　were　still　scrambling　for　safety。　'Keep　your　spades！　Keep　your　spades！'　It　had　taken　dozens　of　ox…carts　to　bring　the　precious　tools　from　Lisbon　and　now　they　were　being　casually　abandoned　to　the　French。　Sharpe　recognized　the　blue…coated　man　as　Colonel　Fletcher；　the　Chief　Engineer。
　
　A　few　men　turned　back　to　pick　up　their　discarded　spades　and　the　leading　French　troops　tugged　the　rags　off　their　muskets；　aimed；　and　shot。　It　was　a　miracle　that　any　fired；　but　three　were　dry　enough；　the　smoke　coughed　and　Colonel　Fletcher　fell　backwards；　hands　clutching　at　his　groin。　There　was　a　French　cheer　as　the　Colonel　was　carried　away　to　safety。
　
　The　South　Essex　Grenadier　pany　came　running　past　Sharpe；　muskets　at　the　trail；　with　Captain　Leroy　at　their　head。　He　had　his　inevitable　cigar　in　his　mouth；　sodden　and　unlit；　and　as　he　ran　past　he　raised　an　eyebrow　to　Sharpe　in　ironic　acknowledgement　of　the　chaos。　There　was　another　armed　pany　just　ahead　and　Leroy　lined　his　men　up　next　to　them。　The　American　looked　back　to　Sharpe。　'Want　to　join　in？'
　
　The　French　had　captured　half　the　first　parallel；　three　hundred　yards　of　trench；　and　were　still　pushing　up　the　hill。　The　two　panies　of　British　infantry；　outnumbered　ten　to　one；　pulled　out　their　bayonets　and　twisted　the　blades　on　to　the　muskets。　Leroy　looked　at　his　men。　'Don't　bother　pulling　your　triggers。　Just　cut　the　bastards。'　He　drew　his　sword　and　swished　the　thin　blade　through　the　rain。　A　third　pany；　panting　and　hurried；　attached　themselves　to　the　small　line。　The　Captains　nodded　to　each　other　and　ordered　the　advance。
　
　Other　panies　were　scrambling　into　position；　but　the　first　danger　to　the　French　was　from　the　three　panies　advancing　from　the　flank。　They　lined　the　trench；　unwrapped　the　rags　from　the　musket　locks；　and　waited。　Sharpe　doubted　if　one　musket　in　ten　would　work。　He　drew　his　own　sword；　suddenly　happy　to　feel　the　weight　in　his　hand　after　the　weeks　of　boredom；　and　then　the　British　line　began　a　stumbling　run　as　if　they　wanted　to　reach　the　trench　before　the　French　could　fire　their　muskets。
　
　A　French　officer's　sword　flashed　down。　'　Tirez！'　Sharpe　saw　the　men's　faces　flinch　as　they　pulled　the　triggers；　but　the　rain　had　done　the　work　for　the　British。　A　few　shots　banged　out；　but　most　of　the　flints　sparked　on　to　wet　powder　that　was　like　thick　putty；　and　the　French　cursed　and　waited　wit