bcornwell.sharpstiger-第4部分

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ather　tubes　to　the　fierce　Indian　sun。　The　first；　the　King's　Colour；　was　a　British　flag　on　which　the　regiment's　battle　honours　were　embroidered；　while　the　second　was　the　Regimental　Colour　and　had　the　33rd's　badge　displayed　on　a　scarlet　field；　the　same　scarlet　as　the　men's　jacket　facings。　The　tasselled　silk　banners　blazed；　and　the　sight　of　them　prompted　a　sudden　cannonade　from　the　ridge。　Till　now　there　had　only　been　the　one　heavy　gun　firing；　but　abruptly　six　other　cannon　joined　the　fight。　The　new　guns　were　smaller　and　their　round　shot　fell　well　short　of　the　seven　battalions。Major　Shee；　the　Irishman　who　manded　the　33rd　while　its　Colonel；　Arthur　Wellesley；　had　control　of　the　whole　brigade；　cantered　his　horse　back；　spoke　briefly　to　Morris；　then　wheeled　away　towards　the　head　of　the　column。　'We're　going　to　push　the　bastards　off　the　ridge！'　Morris　shouted　at　the　Light　pany；　then　bent　his　head　to　light　a　cigar　with　a　tinderbox。　'Any　bastard　that　turns　tail；　Sergeant；　'　Morris　went　on　when　his　cigar　was　properly　alight；　'will　be　shot。　You　hear　me？'
　'Loud　and　clear；　sir！'　Hakeswill　shouted。　'Shot；　sir！　Shot　like　the　coward　he　is。　'　He　turned　and　scowled　at　the　two　half…panies。　'Shot！　And　your　names　posted　in　your　church　porch　at　home　as　the　cowards　you　are。　So　fight　like　Englishmen！'
　'Scotsmen；　'　a　voice　growled　behind　Sharpe；　but　too　softly　for　Hakeswill　to　hear。
　'Irish；　'　another　man　said。
　'We　ain't　none　of　us　cowards；　'　Garrard　said　more　loudly。
　Sergeant　Green；　a　decent　man；　hushed　him。　'Quiet；　lads。　I　know　you'll　do　your　duty。　'
　The　front　of　the　column　was　marching　now；　but　the　rearmost　panies　were　kept　waiting　so　that　the　battalion　could　advance　with　wide　intervals　between　its　twenty　half…panies。　Sharpe　guessed　that　the　scattered　formation　was　intended　to　reduce　any　casualties　caused　by　the　enemy's　bombardment　which；　because　it　was　still　being　fired　at　extreme　range；　was　doing　no　damage。　Behind　him；　a　long　way　behind；　the　rest　of　the　allied　armies　were　waiting　for　the　ridge　to　be　cleared。　That　mass　looked　like　a　formidable　horde；　but　Sharpe　knew　that　most　of　what　he　saw　was　the　two　armies'　civilian　tail：　the　chaos　of　merchants；　wives；　sutlers　and　herdsmen　who　kept　the　fighting　soldiers　alive　and　whose　supplies　would　make　the　siege　of　the　enemy's　capital　possible。　It　needed　more　than　six　thousand　oxen　just　to　carry　the　cannonballs　for　the　big　siege　guns；　and　all　those　oxen　had　to　be　herded　and　fed　and　the　herdsmen　all　travelled　with　their　families　who；　in　turn；needed　more　oxen　to　carry　their　own　supplies。　Lieutenant　Lawford　had　once　remarked　that　the　expedition　did　not　look　like　an　army　on　the　march；　but　like　a　great　migrating　tribe。　The　vast　horde　of　civilians　and　animals　was　encircled　by　a　thin　crust　of　red…coated　infantry；　most　of　them　Indian　sepoys；　whose　job　was　to　protect　the　merchants；　ammunition　and　draught　animals　from　the　quick…riding；　hard…hitting　light　cavalry　of　the　Tippoo　Sultan。
　The　Tippoo　Sultan。　The　enemy。　The　tyrant　of　Mysore　and　the　man　who　was　presumably　directing　the　gunfire　on　the　ridge。　The　Tippoo　ruled　Mysore　and　he　was　the　enemy；　but　what　he　was；　or　why　he　was　an　enemy；　or　whether　he　was　a　tyrant；　beast　or　demigod；　Sharpe　had　no　idea。　Sharpe　was　here　because　he　was　a　soldier　and　it　was　sufficient　that　he　had　been　told　that　the　Tippoo　Sultan　was　his　enemy　and　so　he　waited　patiently　under　the　Indian　sun　that　was　soaking　his　lean　tall　body　in　sweat。
　Captain　Morris　leaned　on　his　saddle's　pommel。　He　took　off　his　cocked　hat　and　wiped　sweat　from　his　forehead　with　a　handkerchief　that　had　been　soaked　in　cologne　water。　He　had　been　drunk　the　previous　night　and　his　stomach　was　still　churning　with　pain　and　wind。　If　the　battalion　had　not　been　going　into　battle　he　would　have　galloped　away；　found　a　private　spot　and　voided　his　bowels；　but　he　could　hardly　do　that　now　in　case　his　men　thought　it　a　sign　of　weakness　and　so　he　raised　his　canteen　instead　and　swallowed'　some　arrack　in　the　hope　that　the　harsh　spirit　would　calm　the　turmoil　in　his　belly。　'Now；　Sergeant！'　he　called　when　the　pany　in　front　had　moved　sufficiently　far　ahead。
　'Forward　half…pany！'　Hakeswill　shouted。　'Forward　march！　Smartly　now！'
　Lieutenant　Lawford；　given　supervision　of　the　last　half…pany　of　the　battalion；　waited　until　Hakeswill's　men　had　marched　twenty　paces；　then　nodded　at　Sergeant　Green。　'Forward；　Sergeant。'
　The　redcoats　inarched　with　unloaded　muskets　for　the　enemy　was　still　a　long　way　off　and　there　was　no　sign　of　the　Tippoo　Sultan's　infantry；　nor　of　his　feared　cavalry。　There　were　only　the　enemy's　guns　and；　high　in　the　fierce　sky；　the　circling　vultures。　Sharpe　was　in　the　leading　rank　of　the　final　half…pany　and　Lieutenant　Lawford；　glancing　at　him；　thought　once　again　what　a　fine…looking　man　Sharpe　was。　There　was　a　confidence　in　Sharpe's　thin；　sun…darkened　face　and　hard　blue　eyes　that　spoke　of　an　easy　petence；　and　that　appearance　was　a　fort　to　a　young　nervous　lieutenant　advancing　towards　his　first　battle。　With　men　like　Sharpe；　Lawford　thought；　how　could　they　lose？
　Sharpe　was　ignorant　of　the　Lieutenant's　glance　and　would　have　laughed　had　he　been　told　that　his　very　appearance　inspired　confidence。　Sharpe　had　no　conception　of　how　he　looked；　for　he　rarely　saw　a　mirror　and　when　he　did　the　reflected　image　meant　nothing；　though　he　did　know　that　the　ladies　liked　him　and　that　he　liked　them。　He　knew；　too；　that　he　was　the　tallest　man　in　the　Light　pany；　so　tall；　indeed；　that　he　should　have　been　in　the　Grenadier　pany　that　led　the　battalion's　advance；　but　when　he　had　first　joined　the　regiment；　six　years　before；　the　manding　officer　of　the　Light　pany　had　insisted　on　having　Sharpe　in　his　ranks。　Captain　Hughes　was　dead　now；　killed　by　a　bowel…loosening　flux　in　Calcutta；　but　in　his　time　Hughes　had　prided　himself　on　having　the　quickest；　smartest　men　in　his　pany；　men　he　could　trust　to　fight　alone　in　the　skirmish　line；　and　it　had　been　Hughes's　tragedy　that　he　had　only　ever　seen　his　picked　men　face　an　enemy　once；　and　that　once　had　been　the　misbegotten；　fever…ridden　expedition　to　the　foggy　island　off　the　coast　of　Flanders　where　no　amount　of　quick…wittedness　by　the　men　could　salvage　success　from　the　manding　general's　stupidity。　Now；　five　years　later；　on　an　Indian　field；　the　33rd　again　marched　towards　an　enemy；　though　instead　of　the　enthusiastic　and　generous　Captain　Hughes；　the　Light　pany　was　now　manded　by　Captain　Morris　who　did　not　care　how　clever　or　quick　his　men　were；　only　that　they　gave　him　no　trouble。　Which　was　why　he　had　brought　Sergeant　Hakeswill　into　the　pany。　And　that　was　why　the　tall；　good…looking；　hard…eyed　private　called　Richard　Sharpe　was　thinking　of　running。
　Except　he　would　not　run　today。　Today　there　would　be　a　fight　and　Sharpe　was　happy　at　that　prospect。　A　fight　meant　plunder；　what　the　Indian　soldiers　called　loot；　and　any　man　who　was　thinking　of　running　and　striking　up　life　on　his　own　could　do　with　a　bit　of　loot　to　prime　the　pump。
　The　seven　battalions　marched　towards　the　ridge。　They　were　all　in　columns　of　half…panies　so　that；　from　a　vulture's　view；　they　would　have　appeared　as　one　hundred　and　forty　small　scarlet　rectangles　spread　across　a　square　mile　of　green　country　as　they　advanced　steadily　towards　the　waiting　line　of　guns　on　the　enemy…held　ridge。　The　sergeants　paced　beside　the　half…panies　while　the　officers　either　rode　or　walked　ahead。　From　a　distance　the　red　squares　looked　smart；　for　the　men's　red　coats　were　bright　scarlet　and　slashed　with　white　crossbelts；　but　in　truth　the　troops　were　filthy　and　sweating。　Their　coats　were　wool；　designed　for　battlefields　in　Flanders；　not　India；　and　the　scarlet　dye　had　run　in　the　heavy　rains　so　that　the　coats　were　now　a　pale　pink　or　a　dull　purple；　and　all　were　stained　white　with　dried　sweat。　Every　man　in　the　33rd　wore　a　leather　stock；　a　cruel　high　collar　that　dug　into　the　flesh　of　his　neck；　and　each　man's　long　hair　had　been　pulled　harshly　back；　greased　with　candle　wax；　then　twisted　about　a　small　sand…filled　leather　bag　that　was　secured　with　a　strip　of　black　leather　so　that　the　hair　hung　like　a　club　at　the　nape　of　the　neck。　The　hair　was　then　powdered　white　with　flour；　and　though　the　clubbed　and　whitened　hair　looked　smart　and　neat；　it　was　a　haven　for　lice　and　fleas。　The　native　sepoys　of　the　East　India　pany