bcornwell.sharpstiger-第4部分

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ness　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　were　luckier。　They　did　not　cake　their　hair　with　powder；　nor　did　they　wear　the　heavy　trousers　ofthe　British　troops　but　instead　marched　bare…legged。　They　did　not　wear　the　leather　stocks　either　and；　even　more　amazing；　there　was　no　flogging　in　the　Indian　battalions。
　An　enemy　cannonball　at　last　found　a　target　and　Sharpe　saw　a　half…pany　of　the　33rd　broken　apart　as　the　round　shot　whipped　through　the　ranks。　He　thought　he　glimpsed　an　instant　red　mist　appear　in　the　air　above　the　formation　as　the　ball　slashed　through；　but　maybe　that　was　an　illusion。　Two　men　stayed　on　the　ground　as　a　sergeant　closed　the　ranks　up。　Two　more　men　were　limping　and　one　of　them　staggered；　reeled　and　finally　collapsed。　The　drummer　boys；　advancing　just　behind　the　unfurled　colours；　marked　the　rhythm　of　the　march　with　steady　beats　interspersed　with　quicker　flourishes；　but　when　the　boys　marched　past　the　twin　heaps　of　offal　that　had　been　soldiers　of　the　Grenadier　pany　a　few　seconds　before　they　began　to　hurry　their　sticks　and　thus　quickened　the　regiment's　pace　until　Major　Shee　turned　in　his　saddle　and　damned　their　eagerness。
　'When　are　we　going　to　load？'　Private　Mallinson　asked　Sergeant　Green。
　'When　you're　told　to；　lad；　when　you're　told　to。　Not　before。　Oh；　sweet　Jesus！'　This　last　imprecation　from　Sergeant　Green　had　been　caused　by　a　deafening　ripple　of　gunfire　from　the　ridge。　A　dozen　more　of　the　Tippoo's　smaller　guns　had　opened　fire　and　the　crest　of　the　ridge　was　now　fogged　by　a　grey…white　cloud　of　smoke。　The　two　British　galloper　guns　off　to　the　right　had　unlimbered　and　started　to　return　the　fire；　but　the　enemy　cannon　were　hidden　by　their　own　smoke　and　that　thick　screen　obscured　any　damage　the　small　galloper　guns　might　be　inflicting。　More　cavalry　trotted　forward　to　the　33rd's　right。　These　newers　were　Indian　troops　dressed　in　scarlet　turbans　and　holding　long；　wicked…pointed　lances。
　'So　what　are　we　bleeding　supposed　to　do？'　Mallinson　plained。　'Just　march　straight　up　the　bloody　ridge　with　empty　muskets？''If　you're　told　to；'　Sergeant　Green　said；　'that's　what　you'll　do。　Now　hold　your　bloody　tongue。'
　'Quiet　back　there！'　Hakeswill　called　from　the　half…pany　in　front。　'This　ain't　a　bleeding　parish　outing！　This　is　a　fight；　you　bastards！'
　Sharpe　wanted　to　be　ready　and　so　he　untied　the　rag　from　his　musket's　lock　and　stuffed　it　into　the　pocket　where　he　kept　the　ring　Mary　had　given　him。　The　ring；　a　plain　band　of　worn　silver；　had　belonged　to　Sergeant　Bickerstaff；　Mary's　husband；　but　the　Sergeant　was　dead　now　and　Green　had　taken　Bickerstaff's　sergeant's　stripes　and　Sharpe　his　bed。　Mary　came　from　Calcutta。　That　was　no　place　to　run；　Sharpe　thought。　Place　was　full　of　redcoats。
　Then　he　forgot　any　prospect　of　deserting；　for　suddenly　the　landscape　ahead　was　filling　with　enemy　soldiers。　A　mass　of　infantry　was　crossing　the　northern　end　of　the　low　ridge　and　marching　down　onto　the　plain。　Their　uniforms　were　pale　purple；　they　had　wide　red　hats　and；　like　the　British　Indian　troops；　were　bare…legged。　The　flags　above　the　marching　men　were　red　and　yellow；　but　the　wind　was　so　feeble　that　the　flags　hung　straight　down　to　obscure　whatever　device　they　might　have　shown。　More　and　more　men　appeared　until　Sharpe　could　not　even　begin　to　estimate　their　numbers。
　'Thirty…third！'　a　voice　shouted　from　somewhere　ahead。　'Line　to　the　left！'
　'Line　to　the　left！'　Captain　Morris　echoed　the　shout。
　'You　heard　the　officer！'　Sergeant　Hakeswill　bawled。　'Line　to　the　left！　Smartly　now！'
　'On　the　double！'　Sergeant　Green　called。
　The　leading　half…pany　of　the　33rd　had　halted　and　every　other　half…pany　angled　to　their　left　and　sped　their　pace；　with　the　final　half…pany；　in　which　Sharpe　marched；　having　the　farthest　and　fastest　to　go。　The　men　began　to　jog；　their　packs　and　pouches　and　bayonet　scabbards　bumping　up　and　down　as　they　stumbled　over　the　small　fields　of　crops。　Like　aswinging　door；　the　column；　that　had　been　marching　directly　towards　the　ridge；　was　now　turning　itself　into　a　line　that　would　lie　parallel　to　the　ridge　and　so　bar　the　advance　of　the　enemy　infantry。
　'Two　files！'　a　voice　shouted。
　'Two　files！'　Captain　Morris　echoed。
　'You　heard　the　officer！'　Hakeswill　shouted。　'Two　files！　On　the　right！　Smartly　now！'
　All　the　running　half…panies　now　split　themselves　into　two　smaller　units；　each　of　two　ranks　and　each　aligning　itself　on　the　unit　to　its　right　so　that　the　whole　battalion　formed　a　fighting　line　two　ranks　deep。　As　Sharpe　ran　into　position　he　glanced　to　his　right　and　saw　the　drummer　boys　taking　their　place　behind　the　regiment's　colours　which　were　guarded　by　a　squad　of　sergeants　armed　with　long；　axe…headed　poles。
　The　Light　pany　was　the　last　into　position。　There　were　a　few　seconds　of　shuffling　as　the　men　glanced　right　to　check　their　alignment；　then　there　was　stillness　and　silence　except　for　the　corporals　fussily　closing　up　the　files。　In　less　than　a　minute；　in　a　marvellous　display　of　drill；　the　Ring's　33rd　had　deployed　from　column　of　march　into　line　of　battle　so　that　seven　hundred　men；　arrayed　in　two　long　ranks；　now　faced　the　enemy。
　'You　may　load；　Major　Shee！'　That　was　Colonel　Wellesley's　voice。　He　had　galloped　his　horse　close　to　where　Major　Shee　brooded　under　the　regiment's　twin　flags。　The　six　Indian　battalions　were　still　hurrying　forward　on　the　left；　but　the　enemy　infantry　had　appeared　at　the　northern　end　of　the　ridge　and　that　meant　the　33rd　was　the　nearest　unit　and　the　one　most　likely　to　receive　the　Tippoo's　assault。
　'Load！'　Captain　Morris　shouted　at　Hakeswill。
　Sharpe　felt　suddenly　nervous　as　he　dropped　the　musket　from　his　shoulder　to　hold　it　across　his　body。　He　fumbled　with　the　musket's　hammer　as　he　pulled　it　back　to　the　half　cock。　Sweat　stung　his　eyes。　He　could　hear　the　enemy　drummers。'Handle　cartridge！'　Sergeant　Hakeswill　shouted；　and　each　man　of　the　Light　pany　pulled　a　cartridge　from　his　belt　pouch　and　bit　through　the　tough　waxed　paper。　They　held　the　bullets　in　their　mourns；　tasting　the　sour　salty　gunpowder。
　'Prime！'　Seventy…six　men　trickled　a　small　pinch　of　powder　from　the　opened　cartridges　into　their　muskets'　pans；　then　closed　the　locks　so　that　the　priming　was　trapped。
　'Cast　about！'　Hakeswill　called　and　seventy…six　right　hands　released　their　musket　stocks　so　that　the　weapons'　butts　dropped　towards　the　ground。　'And　I'm　watching　you！'　Hakes…will　added。　If　any　of　you　lily…white　bastards　don't　use　all　his　powder；　I'll　skin　your　hides　off　you　and　rub　salt　on　your　miserable　flesh。　Do　it　proper　now！'　Some　old　soldiers　advised　only　using　half　the　powder　of　a　cartridge；　letting　the　rest　trickle　to　the　ground　so　that　the　musket's　brutal　kick　would　be　diminished；　but　faced　by　an　advancing　enemy；　no　man　thought　of　employing　that　trick　this　day。　They　poured　the　remainder　of　their　cartridges'　powder　down　their　musket　barrels；　stuffed　the　cartridge　paper　after　the　powder；　then　took　the　balls　from　their　mouths　and　pushed　them　into　the　muzzles。　The　enemy　infantry　was　two　hundred　yards　away　and　advancing　steadily　to　the　beat　of　drums　and　the　blare　of　trumpets。　The　Tippoo's　guns　were　still　firing；　but　they　had　turned　their　barrels　away　from　the　33rd　for　fear　of　hitting　their　own　infantry　and　were　instead　aiming　at　the　six　Indian　regiments　that　were　hurrying　to　close　the　gap　between　themselves　and　the　33rd。
　'Draw　ramrod！'　Hakeswill　shouted　and　Sharpe　tugged　the　ramrod　free　of　the　three　brass　pipes　that　held　it　under　the　musket's　thirty…nine…inch　barrel。　His　mouth　was　salty　with　the　taste　of　gunpowder。　He　was　still　nervous；　not　because　the　enemy　was　tramping　ever　closer；　but　because　he　had　a　sudden　idiotic　idea　that　he　might　have　forgotten　how　to　load　a　musket。　He　twisted　the　ramrod　in　the　air；　then　placed　the　ramrod's　flared　tip　into　the　barrel。'Ram　cartridge！'　Hakeswill　snapped。　Seventy…six　men　thrust　down；　forcing　the　ball；　wadding　and　powder　charge　to　the　bottom　of　the　barrels。
　'Return　ramrod！'　Sharpe　tugged　the　ramrod　up；　listening　to　it　scrape　against　the　barrel；　then　twirled　it　about　so　that　its　narrow　end　would　slide　down　into　the　brass　pipes。　He　let　it　drop　into　place。
　'Order　arms！'　Captain　Morris　called　and　the　Light　pany；　now　with　loaded　muskets；　stood　to　attention　with　thei