bcornwell.sharpstiger-第5部分

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　'Order　arms！'　Captain　Morris　called　and　the　Light　pany；　now　with　loaded　muskets；　stood　to　attention　with　their　guns　held　against　their　right　sides。　The　enemy　was　still　too　far　off　for　a　musket　to　be　either　accurate　or　lethal　and　the　long；　two…deep　line　of　seven　hundred　redcoats　would　wait　until　their　opening　volley　could　do　real　damage。
　'Talion！'　Sergeant　Major　Bywaters's　voice　called　from　the　centre　of　the　line。　'Fix　bayonets！'
　Sharpe　dragged　the　seventeen…inch　blade　from　its　sheatii　which　hung　behind　his　right　hip。　He　slotted　the　blade　over　the　musket's　muzzle；　then　locked　it　in　place　by　twisting　its　slot　onto　the　lug。　Now　no　enemy　could　pull　the　bayonet　off　the　musket。　Having　the　blade　mounted　made　reloading　the　musket　far　more　difficult；　but　Sharpe　guessed　that　Colonel　Wellesley　had　decided　to　shoot　one　volley　and　then　charge。　'Going　to　be　a　right　mucky　brawl；'　he　said　to　Tom　Garrard。
　'More　of　them　than　us；'　Garrard　muttered；　staring　at　the　enemy。　'The　buggers　look　steady　enough。'
　The　enemy　indeed　looked　steady。　The　leading　troops　had　momentarily　paused　to　allow　the　men　behind　to　catch　up；　but　now；　reformed　into　a　solid　column；　they　were　readying　to　advance　again。　Their　ranks　and　files　were　ramrod　straight。　Their　officers　wore　waist　sashes　and　carried　highly　curved　sabres。　One　of　the　flags　was　being　waved　to　and　fro　and　Sharpe　could　just　make　out　that　it　showed　a　golden　sun　blazoned　against　a　scarlet　sky。　Vultures　swooped　lower。　The　galloper　guns；　unable　to　resist　the　target　of　the　great　column　of　infantry；　poured　solid　shot　into　its　flank；　but　the　Tippoo'smen　stoically　endured　the　punishment　as　their　officers　made　certain　that　the　column　was　tight　packed　and　ready　to　deliver　its　crushing　blow　on　the　waiting　redcoat　line。
　Sharpe　licked　his　dry　lips。　So　these；　he　thought；　were　the　Tippoo's　men。　Fine…looking　bastards　they　were；　too；　and　close　enough　now　so　that　he　could　see　that　their　tunics　were　not　plain　pale　purple；　but　were　instead　cut　from　a　creamy…white　cloth　decorated　with　mauve　tiger　stripes。　Their　crossbelts　were　black　and　their　turbans　and　waist　sashes　crimson。　Heathens；　they　might　be；　but　not　to　be　despised　for　that；　for　only　seventeen　years　before　these　same　tiger…striped　men　had　torn　apart　a　British　army　and　forced　its　survivors　to　surrender。　These　were　the　famed　tiger　troops　of　Mysore；　the　warriors　of　the　Tippoo　Sultan　who　had　dominated　all　of　southern　India　until　the　British　thought　to　climb　the　ghats　from　the　coastal　plain　and　plunge　into　Mysore　itself。　The　French　were　these　men's　allies；　and　some　Frenchmen　served　in　the　Tippoo's　forces；　but　Sharpe　could　see　no　white　faces　in　the　massive　column　that　at　last　was　ready　and；　to　the　deep　beat　of　a　single　drum；　lurched　ponderously　forward。　The　tiger…striped　troops　were　marching　directly　towards　the　King's　33rd　and　Sharpe；　glancing　to　his　left；　saw　that　the　sepoys　of　the　East　India　pany　regiments　were　still　too　far　away　to　offer　help。　The　33rd　would　have　to　deal　with　the　Tippoo's　column　alone。
　'Private　Sharpe！'　Hakeswill's　sudden　scream　was　loud　enough　to　drown　the　cheer　that　the　Tippoo's　troops　gave　as　they　advanced。　'Private　Sharpe！'　Hakeswill　screamed　again。　He　was　hurrying　along　the　back　of　the　Light　pany　and　Captain　Morris；　momentarily　dismounted；　was　following　him。　〃Give　me　your　musket；　Private　Sharpe！'　Hakeswill　bellowed。
　'Nothing　wrong　with　it；'　Sharpe　protested。　He　was　in　the　front　rank　and　had　to　turn　and　push　his　way　between　Garrard　and　Mallinson　to　hand　the　gun　over。
　Hakeswill　snatched　the　musket　and　gleefully　presented　it　to　Captain　Morris。　'See；　sir！'　the　Sergeant　crowed。　Just　as　Ithought；　sir！　Bastard　sold　his　flint；　sir！　Sold　it　to　an　'eathen　darkie。'　Hakeswill's　face　twitched　as　he　gave　Sharpe　a　triumphant　glance。　The　Sergeant　had　unscrewed　the　musket's　doghead；　extracted　the　flint　in　its　folded　leather　pad　and　now　offered　the　scrap　of　stone　to　Captain　Morris。　'Piece　of　mon　rock；　sir；　no　good　to　man　or　beast。　Must　have　flogged　his　flint；　sir。　Flogged　it　in　exchange　for　a　pagan　whore；　sir；　I　dare　say。　Filthy　beast　that　he　is。'
　Morris　peered　at　the　flint。　'Sell　the　flint；　did　you；　Private？'　he　asked　in　a　voice　that　mingled　derision；　pleasure　and　bitterness。
　'No；　sir。'
　'Silence！'　Hakeswill　screamed　into　Sharpe's　face；　spattering　him　with　spittle。　'Lying　to　an　officer！　Flogging　offence；　sir；　flogging　offence。　Selling　his　flint；　sir？　Another　flogging　offence；　sir。　Says　so　in　the　scriptures；　sir。'
　'It　is　a　flogging　offence；'　Morris　said　with　a　tone　of　satisfaction。　He　was　as　tall　and　lean　as　Sharpe；　with　fair　hair　and　a　fine…boned　face　that　was　just　beginning　to　show　the　ravages　of　the　liquor　with　which　the　Captain　assuaged　his　boredom。　His　eyes　betrayed　his　cynicism　and　something　much　worse：　that　he　despised　his　men。　Hakeswill　and　Morris；　Sharpe　thought　as　he　watched　them；　a　right　bloody　pair。
　'Nothing　wrong　with　that　flint；　sir；'　Sharpe　insisted。
　Morris　held　the　flint　in　the　palm　of　his　right　hand。　'Looks　like　a　chip　of　stone　to　me。'
　'mon　grit；　sir；'　Hakeswill　said。　'mon　bloody　grit；　sir；　no　good　to　man　or　beast。'
　'Might　I？'　A　new　voice　spoke。　Lieutenant　William　Lawford　had　dismounted　to　join　Morris　and　now；　without　waiting　for　his　Captain's　permission；　he　reached　over　and　took　the　flint　from　Morris's　hand。　Lawford　was　blushing　again；　astonished　by　his　own　temerity　in　thus　intervening。　'There's　an　easy　way　to　check；　sir；'　Lawford　said　nervously；　then　he　drew　out　his　pistol；　cocked　it　and　struck　the　loose　flint　against　the　pistol'ssteel。　Even　in　the　day's　bright　sunlight　there　was　an　obvious　spark。　'Seems　like　a　good　flint　to　me；　sir；'　Lawford　said　mildly。　Ensign　Fitzgerald；　standing　behind　Lawford；　gave　Sharpe　a　conspiratorial　grin。　'A　perfectly　good　flint；'　Lawford　insisted　less　diffidently。
　Morris　gave　Hakeswill　a　furious　look　then　turned　on　his　heel　and　strode　back　towards　his　horse。　Lawford　tossed　the　flint　to　Sharpe。　'Make　your　gun　ready；　Sharpe；'　he　said。
　'Yes；　sir。　Thank　you；　sir。'
　Lawford　and　Fitzgerald　walked　away　as　Hakeswill；　humiliated；　thrust　the　musket　back　at　Sharpe。　'Clever　bastard；　Sharpie；　aren't　you？'
　'I'II　have　the　leather　as　well；　Sergeant；'　Sharpe　said　and；　once　he　had　the　flint's　seating　back；　he　called　after　Hakeswill　who　had　begun　to　walk　away。　'Sergeant！'
　Hakeswill　turned　back。
　'You　want　this；　Sergeant？'　Sharpe　called。　He　took　a　chip　of　stone　out　of　his　pocket。　He　had　found　it　when　he　had　untied　the　rag　from　the　musket's　lock　and　realized　that　Hakeswill　had　substituted　the　stone　for　the　flint　when　he　had　pretended　to　inspect　Sharpe's　musket。　'No　use　to　me；　Sergeant；'　Sharpe　said。　'Here。'　He　tossed　the　stone　at　Hakeswill　who　ignored　it。　Instead　the　Sergeant　spat　and　turned　away。　'Thanks；　Tom；'　Sharpe　said；　for　it　had　been　Garrard　who　had　supplied　him　with　a　spare　flint。
　'Worth　being　in　the　army　to　see　that；'　Garrard　said；　and　all　around　him　men　laughed　to　have　seen　Hakeswill　and　Morris　defeated。
　'Eyes　to　your　front；　lads！'　Ensign　Fitzgerald　called。　The　Irish　Ensign　was　the　youngest　officer　in　the　pany；　but　he　had　the　confidence　of　a　much　older　man。　'Got　some　shooting　to　do。'
　Sharpe　pushed　back　into　his　file。　He　brought　up　the　musket；　folded　the　leather　over　the　flint　and　seated　it　in　the　doghead；　men　looked　up　to　see　that　the　mass　of　the　enemy　was　nowjust　a　hundred　paces　away。　They　were　shouting　rhythmically　and　pausing　occasionally　to　let　a　trumpet　sound　or　a　drum　flourish　a　ripple；　but　the　loudest　sound　was　the　beat　of　their　feet　on　the　dry　earth。　Sharpe　tried　to　count　the　column's　front　rank；　but　kept　losing　count　as　enemy　officers　marched　slantwise　across　the　column's　face。　There　had　to　be　thousands　of　the　tiger　troops；　all　marching　like　a　great　sledgehammer　to　shatter　the　two…deep　line　of　redcoats。
　'Cutting　it　fine；　aren't　we？'　a　man　plained。
　'Wait　lads；　wait；'　Sergeant　Green　said　calmly。
　The　enemy　now　filled　the　landscape　ahead。　They　came　in　a　column　formed　of　sixty　ranks　of　fifty　men；　three　thousand　in　all；　though　to　Sharpe's　inexperienced　eye　it　seemed　as　if　there　must　be　ten　times　that　number。　None　of　the　Tippoo's　men　fired　as　they　advanced；　but　held　their　fire　just　as　the　33rd　were　holding　theirs。　The　enemy's　muskets　were　tipped　with　bayonets　while　their　officers　were　holding　deeply　curved　sabres。　On　they　came　and　to　Sharpe；　who　was　watching　the　column　from　the　left　of　the　line　so　that　he　could　see　its　flank　as　well　as　its　leading　file；　the　enemy　formation　seemed　as　unstoppable　as　a　heavily　loaded　farm　wagon　that　was　rolling　slowly　and　inexorably　towards　a　flimsy　fence。
　He　could　see　the　enemy's　faces　now。　They　were　dark；　with　black　moustaches　and　oddly　white　teeth。　The　tiger　men　were　close；　so　close；　and　their　chanting　began　to　dissolve　into　individual　war　shouts。　Any　second　now；　Sharpe　thought；　and　the　heavy　column　would　break　into　a　run　and　charge　with　levelled　bayonets。
　'Thirty…third！'　Colonel　Wellesley's　voice　called　out　sharply　from　beneath　the　regiment's　colours。　'Make　ready！'
　Sharpe　put　his　right　foot　behind　his　left　so　that　his　body　half　turned　to　the　right；　then　he　brought　his　musket　to　hip　height　and　pulled　the　hammer　back　to　full　cock。　It　clicked　solidly　into　place；　and　somehow　the　pent…up　pressure　of　the　gun's　mainspring　was　reassuring。　To　the　approaching　enemyit　seemed　as　though　the　whole　British　line　had　half　turned　and　the　sudden　movement；　ing　from　men　who　had　been　waiting　so　silently；　momentarily　checked　their　eagerness。　Above　the　tiger　troops　of　Mysore；　beneath　a　bunch　of　flags　on　the　ridge　where　the　guns　fired；　a　group　of　horsemen　watched　the　column。　Was　the　Tippoo　himself　there？　Sharpe　wondered。　And　was　the　Tippoo　dreaming　of　that　far…off　day　when　he　had　broken　three　and　half　thousand　British　and　Indian　troops　and　marched　them　off　to　captivity　in　his　capital　at　Seringapatam？　The　cheers　of　the　attackers　were　filling　the　sky　now；　but　still　Colonel　Wellesley's　voice　was　audible　over　the　tumult。　'Present！'
　Seven　hundred　muskets　came　up　to　seven　hundred　shoulders。　The　muskets　were　tipped　with　steel；　seven　hundred　muskets　aimed　at　the　head　of　the　column　and　about　to　blast　seven　hundred　ounces　of　lead　at　the　leading　ranks　of　that　fast…moving；　confident　mass　that　was　plunging　straight　towards　the　pair　of　British　colours　under