bcornwell.sharpstiger-第16节

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！


ces　and　all　of　them　were　dressed　in　the　tiger…striped　tunic。　There　were　a　dozen　men　at　least；　but　the　Scotsman　had　no　time　to　count　them　properly　for　he　was　plunging　his　spurs　back　to　race　his　mare　diagonally　up　the　slope　towards　the　crest。
　One　of　the　pursuing　horsemen　fired　a　shot　that　echoed　through　the　valley。　The　bullet　went　wide。　McCandless　doubted　it　had　been　supposed　to　hit　anything；　but　was　rather　intended　as　a　signal　to　alert　other　horsemen　who　must　be　in　the　area。　For　a　second　or　two　the　Scotsman　debated　turning　and　charging　directly　at　his　pursuers；　but　he　rejected　the　idea。　The　odds　were　marginally　too　great　and　his　news　far　too　important　to　be　gambled　on　a　skirmish。　Flight　was　his　only　option。　He　pulled　the　carbine　from　its　saddle　holster；　cocked　it；　then　clapped　his　heels　hard　onto　the　mare's　flank。　Onceover　the　crest　he　reckoned　there　was　a　good　chance　he　could　outrun　his　pursuers。
　Goats　scattered　from　his　path　as　he　spurred　the　mare　over　the　ridge's　skyline。　One　glance　behind　satisfied　McCandless　that　he　had　gained　a　long　enough　lead　to　let　him　turn　north　without　being　headed　off；　and　so　he　twitched　the　rein　and　let　the　mare　run。　A　long　stretch　of　open；　tree…dotted　country　lay　ahead　and　beyond　were　thick　stands　of　timber　in　which　he　and　his　escort　could　lose　themselves。　'Run；　girl！'　he　called　to　the　mare；　then　looked　behind　to　make　certain　his　escort　was　closed　up　and　safe。　Sweat　dripped　down　his　face；　his　scabbarded　claymore　thumped　up　and　down　on　his　hip；　but　the　strong　mare　was　running　like　the　wind　now；　her　speed　blowing　the　kilt　back　up　around　his　hips。　This　was　not　the　first　time　McCandless　had　raced　away　from　enemies。　He　had　once　run　for　a　whole　day；　dawn　to　twilight；　to　escape　a　Mahratta　band　and　the　mare　had　never　once　lost　her　footing。　In　all　India；　and　that　meant　all　the　world；　McCandless　had　no　friend　better　than　this　mare。　'Run；　girl！'　he　called　to　her　again；　then　looked　behind　once　more　and　it　was　then　that　the　Havildar　shouted　a　warning。　McCandless　turned　to　see　more　horsemen　ing　from　the　trees　to　the　north。
　There　must　have　been　fifty　or　sixty　horsemen　racing　towards　the　Scotsman　and；　even　as　he　swerved　the　mare　eastwards；　he　realized　that　his　original　dozen　pursuers　must　have　been　the　scouts　for　this　larger　party　of　cavalry　and　that　by　running　north　he　had　been　galloping　towards　the　enemy　rather　than　away　from　them。　Now　he　rode　towards　the　rising　sun　again；　but　there　was　no　cover　to　the　east　and　these　new　pursuers　were　already　dangerously　close。　He　angled　back　to　the　south；　hoping　he　might　find　some　shelter　in　the　valley　beyond　the　crest；　but　then　a　wild　volley　of　shots　sounded　from　his　pursuers。
　One　bullet　struck　the　mare。　It　was　a　fortunate　shot；　firedat　the　gallop；　and　ninety…nine　times　out　of　a　hundred　such　a　shot　would　have　flown　yards　wide；　but　this　ball　struck　the　mare's　haunch　and　McCandless　felt　her　falter。　He　slapped　her　rump　with　the　stock　of　his　carbine　and　she　tried　to　respond；　but　the　bullet　had　driven　close　to　the　mare's　spine　and　the　pain　was　growing　and　she　stumbled；　neighed；　yet　still　she　tried　to　run　again。　Then　one　of　her　back　legs　simply　stopped　working　and　the　horse　slewed　round　in　a　cloud　of　dust。　McCandless　kicked　his　feet　out　of　the　stirrups　as　his　escort　galloped　past。　The　Havildar　was　already　hauling　on　his　reins；　wheeling　his　horse　to　rescue　McCandless；　but　the　Scotsman　knew　it　was　too　late。　He　sprawled　on　the　ground；　hurled　free　of　the　falling　mare；　and　shouted　at　the　Havildar。　'Go；　man！'　he　called。　'Go！'　But　the　escort　had　sworn　to　protect　the　Colonel　and；　instead　of　fleeing；　the　Havildar　led　his　men　towards　the　rapidly　approaching　enemy。
　'You　fools！'　McCandless　shouted　after　them。　Brave　fools；　but　fools。　He　was　bruised；　but　otherwise　unhurt；　though　his　mare　was　dying。　She　was　whinnying　and　somehow　she　had　managed　to　raise　the　front　part　of　her　body　on　her　forelegs　and　seemed　puzzled　that　her　back　legs　would　not　work。　She　whinnied　again；　and　McCandless　knew　she　would　never　again　run　like　the　wind　and　so　he　did　the　friend's　duty。　He　went　to　her　head；　pulled　it　down　by　the　reins；　kissed　her　nose　and　then　put　a　bullet　into　her　skull　just　above　her　eyes。　She　reared　back；　white…eyed　and　with　blood　spraying；　then　she　slumped　down。　Her　forelegs　kicked　a　few　times　and　after　that　she　was　still。　The　flies　came　to　settle　on　her　wounds。
　The　Havildar's　small　group　rode　full　tilt　into　the　enemy's　pursuit。　That　enemy　had　been　scattered　by　their　gallop　and　the　Havildar's　men　were　closed　up　and　so　the　first　few　seconds　were　an　easy　victory。　Two　lances　found　Mysore　bellies；　two　sabres　drew　more　blood；　but　then　the　main　body　of　the　enemy　crashed　into　the　fight。　The　Havildar　himself　had　ridden　clean　through　the　leading　ranks；　leaving　his　lance　behind；　and　henow　looked　back　to　see　his　men　fighting　desperately　among　a　milling　group　of　enemy　horsemen。　He　drew　his　sabre　and　turned　back　to　help　when　he　heard　McCandless　shouting。　'Go；　man；　go！　Go！'　McCandless　yelled；　pointing　north。　The　Havildar　could　not　take　back　the　vital　news　McCandless　had　gained　from　Appah　Rao；　but　it　was　still　important　to　let　the　army　know　that　the　Colonel　had　been　captured。　McCandless　was　not　a　vain　man；　but　he　knew　his　own　value；　and　he　had　left　some　careful　instructions　that　might　retrieve　some　of　the　damage　of　his　capture。　Those　instructions　offered　a　chance　for　the　army　to　rescue　McCandless；　and　that　dangerous　expedient　was　now　the　Scotsman's　only　hope　of　passing　on　Appah　Rao's　message。　'Go！'　McCandless　roared　as　loudly　as　he　could。
　The　Havildar　was　caught　between　his　duty　to　his　men　and　his　duty　to　obey　McCandless's　orders。　He　hesitated；　and　two　of　the　pursuers　swerved　aside　to　pounce　on　him。　That　made　up　his　mind。　He　clapped　his　spurs　back；　charged　the　pursuers；　touched　the　rein　at　the　last　moment　and　swung　his　sabre　as　he　went　past　the　two　men。　The　blade　sliced　across　the　nape　of　the　nearer　man's　neck　and　then　the　Havildar　curved　away　northwards；　galloping　free　while　the　rest　of　the　enemy　gathered　about　the　survivors　for　the　kill。
　McCandless　threw　down　his　pistol　and　carbine；　drew　his　heavy　claymore　and　walked　towards　the　melee。　He　never　reached　it；　for　an　enemy　officer　detached　himself　from　the　clash　of　sabres　and　turned　his　horse　to　meet　the　Scotsman。　The　Mysorean　officer　sheathed　his　sabre；　then　mutely　held　out　his　right　hand　for　McCandless's　blade。　Behind　him　the　sabres　and　lances　worked　briefly；　then　the　small　fight　was　over　and　McCandless　knew　that　his　escort；　all　but　the　Havildar；　was　dead。　He　looked　at　the　horseman　above　him。　'This　sword；'　he　said　bitterly；　'belonged　to　my　father　and　to　his　father。'　He　spoke　in　English。　'This　sword；'　McCandless　said；　'was　carried　for　Charles　Stuart　at　Culloden。'The　officer　said　nothing；　just　held　his　hand　out；　his　eyes　steady　on　McCandless。　The　Scotsman　slowly　reversed　his　blade；　then　held　the　hilt　upwards。　The　Mysorean　officer　took　it　and　seemed　surprised　by　the　claymore's　weight。　'What　were　you　doing　here？'　the　officer　asked　in　Kanarese。
　'Do　you　speak　English？'　McCandless　asked　in　that　tongue；　determined　to　hide　his　knowledge　of　India's　languages。
　The　officer　shrugged。　He　looked　at　the　old　claymore　then　slid　it　into　his　sash。　His　men；　their　horses　white　with　sweat；　gathered　excitedly　to　stare　at　the　captured　heathen。　They　saw　an　old　man　and　some　wondered　if　they　had　captured　the　enemy's　General；　but　the　captive　seemed　to　speak　no　language　any　of　them　knew　and　so　his　identity　would　have　to　wait。　He　was　given　one　of　his　dead　escort's　horses　and　then；　as　the　sun　climbed　towards　its　daily　furnace　heat；　McCandless　was　taken　west　towards　the　Tippoo's　stronghold。
　While　behind　him　the　vultures　circled　and　at　last；　sure　that　nothing　lived　where　the　dust　and　flies　had　settled　on　the　newly　made　corpses；　flew　down　for　dieir　feast。
　
　It　took　two　days　to　convene　the　court　martial。　The　army　could　not　spare　the　time　in　its　march　for　the　business　to　be　done　immediately　and　so　Captain　Morris　had　to　wait　until　the　great　ponderous　horde　was　given　a　half…day's　rest　to　allow　the　straggling　herds　to　catch　up　with　the　main　armies。　Only　then　was　there　time　to　assemble　the　officers　and　have　Private　Sharpe　brought　into　Major　Shee's　tent　which　had　one　of　its　sides　brailed　up　to　make　more　space。　Captain　Morris　laid　the　charge　and　Sergeant　Hakeswill　and　Ensign　Hicks　gave　evidence。
　Major　John　Shee　was　irritable。　The　Major　was　irritable　at　the　best　of　times；　but　the　need　to　stay　at　least　apparently　sober　had　only　shortened　his　already　short　Irish　temper。　He　did　not；　in　truth；　enjoy　manding　the　33rd。　Major　Shee　suspected；　when　he　was　sober　enough　to　suspect　anything；that　he　did　the　job　badly　and　that　suspicion　had　given　rise　to　a　haunting　fear　of　mutiny；　and　mutiny；　to　Major　Shee's　befuddled　mind；　was　signalled　by　any　sign　of　disrespect　for　established　authority。　Private　Sharpe　was　plainly　a　man　who　brimmed　over　with　such　disrespect　and　the　offence　with　which　he　was　charged　was　plain　and　the　remedy　just　as　obvious；　but　the　court　proceedings　were　delayed　because　Lieutenant　Lawford；　who　should　have　spoken　for　Sharpe；　was　not　present。　'Then　where　the　devil　is　he？'　Shee　demanded。
　Captain　Fillmore；　mander　of　the　fourth　pany；　spoke　for　Lawford。　'He　was　summoned　to　General