bcornwell.sharpstiger-第64节

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they　too　were　unmoving　with　fear。　Then　Sharpe　saw　why。
　Three　jettis　were　crossing　the　courtyard　towards　the　dungeon　cage。　Three　monsters。　Three　men　with　bare　oiled　chests　and　muscles　like　tiger　thews。　One　carried　a　coiled　whip　while　the　other　two　were　armed　with　hugely　long　spears　with　which　they　had　planned　to　subdue　the　tiger　before　opening　the　prisoners'　cell。　Sharpe　swore。　He　dropped　his　coat　and　picklock。
　'Can　you　lock　us　in　again？'　McCandless　asked。
　'Those　buggers　are　strong　enough　to　tear　the　padlocks　clean　away；　sir。　We　have　to　kill　the　bastards。'　Sharpe　darted　through　the　gate　and　ran　to　his　right。　〃The　jettis　followed　him；　but　more　slowly。　They　were　not　fast　men；　though　their　massive　strength　gave　them　an　easy　confidence　as　they　spread　out　into　a　line　to　trap　Sharpe　in　a　corner　of　the　courtyard。　'Throw　me　a　musket！'　Sharpe　called　to　Mary。　'Quick；　lass；　quick！'
　Mary　snatched　a　musket　from　one　of　Kunwar　Singh's　men　and；　before　the　astonished　man　could　protest；　she　tossed　it　to　Sharpe。　He　caught　it；　held　it　at　his　waist；　but　did　not　cock　the　weapon。　Then　he　advanced　on　the　middle　jetti。　The　man　had　seen　that　the　musket　was　uncocked　and　he　smiled；　anticipating　an　easy　victory；　then　slashed　out　his　whip　so　that　its　coiled　end　wound　round　Sharpe's　throat。　He　tugged；　planning　to　pull　Sharpe　off　balance；　but　Sharpe　was　already　running　towards　him；　cheating　the　whip's　tension；　and　the　jetti　had　never　faced　a　man　as　quick　as　Sharpe。　Nor　as　lethal。　The　jetti　was　still　recovering　from　his　surprise　when　the　muzzle　of　the　musket　rammed　into　his　Adam's　apple　with　the　force　of　a　sledgehammer。　He　choked；　his　eyes　widened；　then　Sharpe　kicked　him　in　the　crotch　and　the　huge　man　staggered　and　collapsed。　One　big　muscle…bound　brute　was　down；　gaspingdesperately　for　breath；　but　the　long　spears　were　turning　towards　Sharpe　who；　with　the　whip　still　trailing　from　his　throat；　turned　fast　to　his　right。　He　knocked　the　next　jettfs　spear　aside　with　his　musket　barrel；　then　reversed　the　weapon　and　charged。　The　jetti　abandoned　his　spear　and　reached　for　the　musket；　but　Sharpe　checked　his　rush　so　that　the　big　man's　hands　closed　on　nothing；　and　then　Sharpe　swung　the　musket　by　its　barrel　so　that　its　brass…bound　butt　slammed　into　the　man's　temple　with　the　sound　of　an　axe　biting　into　soft　wood。
　Two　of　the　bastards　were　down。　The　soldiers　on　the　inner　ramparts'　battery　were　watching　the　fight；　but　not　interfering。　They　were　confused；　for　Kunwar　Singh　was　standing　right　beside　the　fight　and　doing　nothing；　and　his　jewels　made　him　appear　a　man　of　high　authority；　and　so　they　followed　his　example　and　did　not　try　to　intervene。　Some　of　the　watching　soldiers　were　even　cheering；　for；　though　the　jettis　were　admired；　they　were　also　resented　because　they　received　privileges　far　above　any　ordinary　soldier's　expectations。
　Lawford　had　moved　to　help　Sharpe；　but　his　uncle　held　him　back。　'Let　him　be；　Willie；'　McCandless　said　quietly。　'He's　doing　the　Lord's　work　and　I've　rarely　seen　it　done　better。'
　The　third　jetti　lumbered　at　Sharpe　with　his　spear。　He　advanced　warily；　confused　by　the　ease　with　which　this　foreign　demon　had　downed　his　two　panions。
　Sharpe　smiled　at　the　third　jetti；　shouldered　the　musket；　pulled　back　the　cock；　and　fired。
　The　bullet　drummed　into　ihejettfs　chest；　making　all　his　huge　muscles　shudder　with　the　force　of　its　impact。　The　jetti　slowed；　then　tried　to　charge　again；　but　his　knees　gave　way　and　he　fell　forward　onto　his　face。　He　twitched；　his　hands　scrabbled　for　an　instant；　then　he　was　still。　From　the　ramparts　above　the　soldiers　cheered。
　Sharpe　uncoiled　the　whip　from　his　neck；　picked　up　one　of　the　clumsy　spears；　and　finished　off　the　two　jettis　who　still　lived。　One　had　been　stunned　and　the　other　was　almost　unable　tobreathe；　and　both　now　had　their　throats　cut。　From　the　windows　of　the　low　buildings　around　the　courtyard　men　and　women　stared　at　Sharpe　in　shock。
　'Don't　just　stand　there！'　Sharpe　snarled　at　Lawford。　'Sir；'　he　added　hastily。
　Lawford　and　McCandless　came　through　the　gate；　while　Kunwar　Singh；　as　if　released　from　a　spell；　suddenly　hurried　to　meet　them。　Mary　crossed　to　Sharpe。　'Are　you　all　right？'
　'Never　better；　lass；'　he　said。　In　truth　he　was　shaking　as　he　picked　up　his　red　coat　and　as　Kunwar　Singh's　six　men　stared　at　him　as　though　he　was　a　devil　e　from　nightmare。　Sharpe　wiped　sweat　from　his　eyes。　He　was　oblivious　of　most　of　what　had　just　happened　for　he　had　fought　as　he　had　always　fought；　fast　and　with　a　lethal　skill；　but　it　was　instinct　that　led　him；　not　reason；　and　the　fight　had　left　him　with　a　seething　hate。　He　wanted　to　slake　that　hate　by　killing　more　men；　and　perhaps　Kunwar　Singh's　soldiers　picked　up　that　ferocity；　for　none　of　them　dared　move。
　Lawford　crossed　to　Sharpe。　'We　think　the　assault　is　about　to　e；　Sharpe；'　the　Lieutenant　said；　'and　Colonel　McCandless　is　being　taken　to　a　place　of　safety。　He's　insisted　that　we　go　with　him。　The　fellow　in　the　jewels　isn't　happy　about　that；　but　McCandless　won't　go　without　us。　And　well　done；　by　the　way。'
　Sharpe　glanced　up　into　the　Lieutenant's　eyes。　T'm　not　going　with　him；　sir；　I'm　going　to　fight。'
　'Sharpe！'　Lawford　reproved　him。
　'There's　a　bloody　great　mine；　sir！'　Sharpe　raised　his　voice　angrily。　'Just　waiting　to　kill　our　lads！　I　ain't　letting　that　happen。　You　can　do　what　you　bloody　well　like；　but　I'm　going　to　kill　some　more　of　these　bastards。　You　can　e　with　me；　sir；　or　stay　with　the　Colonel；　I　don't　care。　You；　lad！'　This　was　to　one　of　Kunwar　Singh's　unprehending　soldiers。　'Give　me　some　cartridges。　e　on；　hurry！'　Sharpe　crossed　to　the　man；　pulled　open　his　pouch　and　helped　himself　to　a　handful　ofcartridges　that　he　shoved　into　a　pocket。　Kunwar　Singh　made　no　move　to　stop　him。　Indeed；　everyone　in　the　courtyard　seemed　to　be　stunned　by　the　ferocity　that　had　reduced　three　of　the　Tippoo's　prized　jettis　to　dead　meat；　though　the　officer　manding　the　troops　on　the　inner　wall　did　now　call　down　to　demand　to　know　what　was　happening。　Kunwar　Singh　shouted　back　that　they　were　doing　the　Tippoo's　bidding。
　McCandless　had　overheard　Sharpe　talking　to　Lawford。　'If　I　can　help；　Private　。　。。'　the　Colonel　said。
　'You're　weak；　sir；　begging　your　pardon；　sir。　But　Mister　Lawford　will　help　me。'
　Lawford　said　nothing　for　a　moment；　then　nodded。　'Yes；　of　course　I　will。'
　'What　will　you　do？'　McCandless　asked。　He　spoke　to　Sharpe；　not　Lawford。
　'Blow　the　bloody　mine；　sir；　blow　it　to　kingdom　e。'
　'God　bless　you；　Sharpe。　And　keep　you。'
　'Save　your　prayers　for　the　bloody　enemy；　sir；'　Sharpe　said　curtly。　He　rammed　a　bullet　home；　then　plunged　into　an　alleyway　that　led　southwards。　He　was　loose　in　his　enemy's　rear；　he　was　angry；　and　he　was　ready　to　give　the　bastards　a　taste　of　hell　on　earth。
　
　Major　General　Baird　hauled　a　huge　watch　from　his　fob　pocket；　sprang　open　the　lid；　and　stared　at　the　hands。　One　o'clock。　On　the　fourth　of　May　1799。　A　Saturday。　A　drop　of　sweat　landed　on　the　watch　crystal　and　he　carefully　wiped　it　away　with　a　tassel　of　his　red　sash。　His　mother　had　made　the　sash。　〃You'll　not　let　us　down；　young　Davy；'　she　had　said　sternly；　giving　him　the　strip　of　tasseEed　silk　and　then　saying　no　more　as　he　had　walked　away　to　join　the　army。　The　sash　was　over　twenty　years　old　now；　and　it　was　frayed　and　threadbare；　but　Baird　reckoned　it　would　last　him。　He　would　take　it　back　to　Scotland　one　day。
　It　would　be　good；　he　thought；　to　go　home　and　see　the　newcentury。　Maybe　the　eighteen　hundreds　would　bring　a　different　world；　even　a　better　one；　but　he　doubted　that　the　new　era　would　manage　to　dispense　with　soldiers。　Till　time　ended；　Baird　suspected；　there　would　be　uses　for　a　man　and　his　sword。　He　took　off　his　mildewed　hat　and　wiped　the　sweat　from　his　forehead　with　his　sleeve。　Almost　time。
　He　peered　between　two　sandbags　that　formed　the　forward　lip　of　the　trench。　The　South　Cauvery　rippled　prettily　between　its　flat　boulders；　the　paths　across　its　bed　marked　with　the　little　white　flags　on　their　bamboo　sticks。　In　a　moment　he　would　launch　men　across　those　paths；　then　through　the　gap　in　the　glacis　and　up　that　mound　of　stone；　brick；　mud　and　dust。　He　counted　eleven　cannonballs　stranded　on　the　breach；　looking　for　all　the　world　like　plums　stuck　in　a　pudding。　Three　hundred　yards　of　ground　to　cover；　one　river　to　cross；　and　one　plum　pudding　to　climb。　He　could　see　men　peering　from　between　the　city's　battered　crenellations。　Flags　flew　there。　The　bastards　would　have　guns　mounted　crosswise　to　the　breach　and　perhaps　a　mine　buried　in　the　rubble。　God　preserve　the　Forlorn　Hopes；　he　thought；　though　God　was　not　usually　merciful　in　such　matters。　If　Colonel　Gent　was　right；　and　there　was　a　massive　mine　waiting　for　the　attackers；　then　the　Forlorn　Hopes　would　be　slaughtered；　and　then　the　main　attack　would　have　to　assault　the　breach　and　climb　its　shoulders　to　where　the　enemy　was　massed　on　the　outer　ramparts。　So　be　it。　Too　late　to　worry　now。
　Baird　pushed　through　the　waiting　men　to　find　Sergeant　Graham。　Graham　would　lead　one　of　the　two　Forlorn　Hopes　and；　if　he　lived；　would　be　Lieutenant　Graham　by　nightfall。　The　Sergeant　was　scooping　a　last　ladleful　of　water　from　one　of　the　barrels　that　had　been　placed　in　the　trenches　to　slake　the　thirst　of　the　waiting　men。　'Not　long　now；　Sergeant；'　Baird　said。
　'Whenever　you　say；　sir。'　Graham　poured　the