Sharpe's Fortress s-3

by Бернард Корнуэлл

  "I thought it was too good to last, " he said gloomily.

  "It'll be slow work now." He poked the fire around which a half-dozen officers were sitting.

  Major Simons grinned.

  "If I was the enemy, " he said, "I'd attack Mister Sharpe's oxen instead of attacking engineers. If they cut our supply line they'd do some real damage."

  "There's no point in shooting engineers, " Pinckney agreed.

  "We don't need Royal Engineers anyway. We've been making roads for years. The fellows in the blue coats just get in the way. Mind you, they'll still send us another."

  "If there are any left, " Sharpe said. The campaign had been fatal for the engineers. Two had died blowing up the enemy guns at Assaye, another three were fevered and now Elliott was either dying or already dead.

  "They'll find one, " Pinckney grumbled.

  "If there's something the

  King's army doesn't need then you can be sure they've got a healthy supply of it."

  "The Company army's better?" Sharpe asked.

  "It is, " Major Simons said.

  "We work for a sterner master than you, Sharpe. It's called book-keeping. You fight for victories, we fight for profits. Leadenhall Street won't pay for fancy engineers in blue coats, not when they can hire plain men like us at half the cost."

  "They could afford me, " Sharpe said.

  "Cheap as they come, I am."

  Next morning Simons threw a strong picquet line ahead of the work parties, but no Mahrattas opposed the pioneers who were now widening the track where it twisted up a bare and steep slope that was littered with rocks. The track was ancient, worn into the hills by generations of travellers, but it had never been used by wagons, let alone by heavy guns. Merchants who wanted to carry their goods up the escarpment had used the road leading directly to the fortress's Southern Gate, while this track, which looped miles to the east of Gawilghur, was little more than a series of paths connecting the upland valleys where small farms had been hacked from the jungle. It was supposed to be tiger country, but Sharpe saw none of the beasts. At dawn he had returned to Deogaum to collect rice for the sepoys, and then spent the next four hours climbing back to where the pioneers were working. He was nervous at first, both of tigers and of an enemy ambush, but the worst he suffered was a series of drenching rainstorms that swept up the mountains.

  The rain stopped when he reached the working parties who were driving the road through a small ridge. Pinckney was setting a charge of gunpowder that would loosen the rock and let him cut out a mile of looping track. His servant brought a mug of tea that Sharpe drank sitting on a rock. He stared southwards, watching the veils of grey rain sweep across the plain.

  "Did Wellesley say anything about sending a new engineer?" Major Simons asked him.

  "I just collected the rice, sir, " Sharpe said.

  "I didn't see the General."

  "I thought you were supposed to be a friend of his?" Simons observed sourly.

  "Everyone thinks that, " Sharpe said, 'except him and me."

  "But you saved his life?"

  Sharpe shrugged.

  "I reckon so. Either that or stopped him getting captured."

  "And killed a few men doing it, I hear?"

  Sharpe looked at the tall Simons with some surprise, for he had not realized that his exploit had become common knowledge.

  "Don't remember much about it."

  "I suppose not. Still, " Simons said, 'a feather in your cap?"

  "I don't think Wellesley thinks that, " Sharpe said.

  "You're a King's officer now, Sharpe, " Simons said enviously. As an East India Company officer he was trapped in the Company's cumbersome system of promotion.

  "If Wellesley thrives, he'll remember you."

  Sharpe laughed.

  "I doubt it, sir. He ain't the sort." He turned southwards again because Ahmed had called a warning in Arabic. The boy was pointing downhill and Sharpe stood to see over the crown of the slope. Far beneath him, where the road passed through one of the lush valleys, a small party of horsemen was approaching and one of the riders was in a blue coat.

  "Friends, Ahmed! " he called.

  "Looks like the new engineer, " Sharpe said to Simons.

  "Pinckney will be delighted, " Simons said sarcastically.

  Pinckney came back to inspect the approaching party through a telescope, and spat when he saw the blue coat of the Royal Engineers.

  "Another interfering bastard to teach me how to suck eggs, " he said.

  "So let's blow the charge before he gets here, otherwise he'll tell us we're doing it all wrong."

  A crowd of grinning sepoys waited expectantly about the end of the fuse. Pinckney struck a light, put it to the quick match then watched the sparks smoke their way towards the distant charge. The smoke trail vanished in grass and it seemed to Sharpe that it must have extinguished itself, but then there was a violent coughing sound and the small ridge heaved upwards. Soil and stone flew outwards in a cloud of filthy smoke. The sepoys cheered. The explosion had seemed small to Sharpe, but when the smoke and dust cleared he could see that the ridge now had a deep notch through which the road could climb to the next high valley.

  The pioneers went to shovel the loosened earth away and Sharpe sat again. Ahmed squatted beside him.

  "What am I going to do with you?"

  Sharpe asked.

  "I go to England, " Ahmed said carefully.

  "You won't like it there. Cold as buggery."

  "Cold?"

  "Freezing." Sharpe mimicked a shiver, but plainly it meant nothing to the Arab boy.

  "I go to England, " Ahmed insisted.

  A half-hour later the new engineer appeared just beneath Sharpe.

  He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, rode a grey horse and was trailed by three servants who led pack mules laden with luggage amongst which Sharpe could see a tripod, a surveyor's level and a vast leather tube that he guessed held a telescope. The engineer took off his hat and fanned his face as he rounded the last bend. "Pon my soul, " he said cheerfully, 'but thank God the horse does the climbing and not me."

  Pinckney had come back to greet the engineer and held out his hand as the blue-coated Major slid from his saddle.

  "Captain Pinckney, sir, " he introduced himself.

  "Pinckney, eh?" the white-haired engineer said cheerfully.

  "I knew a Pinckney in Hertfordshire. He made plough shares and damn fine ones too."

  "My uncle Joshua, sir."

  "Then you must be Hugh's boy, yes? An honour! " He shook Pinckney's hand vigorously.

  "Major John Stokes, at your service, though I don't suppose you need me, do you? You must have built more roads than I ever did." Major Stokes looked towards Sharpe who had stood and was now smiling.

  "Good God in His blessed heaven, " Stokes said, 'it can't be! But it is! My dear Sharpe! My dear Mister Sharpe. I heard all about your commission! Couldn't be more pleased, my dear Sharpe. An officer, eh?"

  Sharpe smiled broadly.

  "OnJ} an ensign, sir."

  "Every ladder has a first rung, Sharpe, " Stokes said in gentle reproof of Sharpe's modesty, then held out his hand.

  "We shall be mess mates, as they say in the Navy. Well, I never! Mess mates, indeed! And with a Pinckney too! Hugh Pinckney forges mill gears, Sharpe. Never seen a man make better-toothed wheels in all my life." He clasped Sharpe's hand in both of his.

  "They grubbed me out of Seringapatam, Sharpe.

  Can you believe that? Told me all the other engineers had the pox, and summoned me here just in time to discover that poor Elliott's dead.

  '34

  I suppose I shouldn't complain. It's awfully good for my promotion prospects." He let go of Sharpe's hand.

  "Oh, and by the way, I travelled north with some of your old comrades! Captain Charles Morris and his company. Not the most charming creature, is he?"

  "Not one of my favourites, sir, " Sharpe admitted. Good God! Bloody Morris was here? First Hakeswill,
then Morris!

  "He didn't want to come, " Stokes said, 'but higher powers deemed that I had to be protected from the ungodly, so they insisted on an infantry escort." He turned as a rattle of gunfire sounded higher up the escarpment.

  "Bless my soul! Is that musketry?"

  Ticquet line, sir, " Pinckney explained.

  "The enemy harasses us, but they're not thrusting home."

  "They should, they should. A battalion of skirmishers in these hills could keep us at bay for a month! Well, I never, Sharpe! An ensign!»

  The Major turned back to Pinckney.

  "Sharpe and I ran the armoury at Seringapatam for four years."

  "You ran it, sir, " Sharpe said.

  "I was just your sergeant."

  "Best sergeant I ever had, " Stokes told Pinckney enthusiastically.

  "And it's not "sir" he turned to Sharpe 'but John." He grinned at Sharpe.

  "They were four good years, eh? Best we'll ever have, I daresay. And here you are now, an officer! My dear fellow, I couldn't be more overjoyed." He sniffed the air.

  "Been blowing things up, Pinckney?"

  "Cutting through that ridge, sir. I trust you don't mind that we didn't wait for you?"

  "Mind? Why should I mind? You go ahead, dear fellow. I'm sure you know your business better than I do. God knows why they need an engineer here at all! Probably to be decorative, eh? Still, I'll make myself useful. I thought I might map the escarpment. Hasn't been done, you see. Of course, Pinckney, if you need advice, just ask away, but I'll probably be at sixes and sevens groping for an answer." He beamed at the delighted Pinckney, then looked at the rough country through which the road led.

  "This is fine landscape, isn't it? Such a relief after the plains. It reminds me of Scotland."

  "There are tigers here, Major, " Sharpe said.

  "And there's all kinds of fierce things in Scotland too, Sharpe. I was once posted to Fort William and might as well have been in darkest China! It was worse than Newfoundland. And speaking of America, Sharpe, that young lady you sent me has travelled there. Extraordinary thing to do, I thought, and I advised her to abandon the whole wretched idea. There are bears, I told her, fierce bears, but she wouldn't be persuaded."

  "Simone, sir?" Sharpe asked, at first not believing his ears, then feeling a dreadful premonition.

  "A charming creature, I thought. And to be widowed so young!»

  Stokes tutted and shook his head.

  "She went to a fortune teller, one of those naked fellows who make funny faces in the alley by the Hindu temple, and says she was advised to go to a new world. Whatever next, eh?"

  "I thought she was waiting for me, sir, " Sharpe said.

  "Waiting for you? Good Lord, no. Gone to Louisiana, she says. She stayed in my house for a week I moved out, of course, to stop any scandal and then she travelled to Madras with Mrs. Pennington.

  Remember Charlotte Pennington? The clergyman's widow? I can't think the two of them will get along, but your friend said the fortune teller was adamant and so she chose to go." The Major was eager to give Sharpe the rest of the news from Seringapatam. The armoury was closing down, he said, now that the frontier of the British-held territory was so much farther north, but Stokes had kept himself busy dismantling the town's inner fortifications.

  "Very ill made, Sharpe, disgraceful work, quite disgraceful. Walls crumbled to the touch."

  But Sharpe was not listening. He was thinking of Simone. She had gone! By now she was probably in Madras, and maybe already on board a ship. And she had taken his jewels. Only a few of them, true, but enough. He touched the seam of his jacket where a good many of the Tippoo's other jewels were hidden.

  "Did Madame Joubert leave any message?" he asked Stokes when the Major paused to draw breath. What did he hope, Sharpe wondered, that Simone would want him to join her in America?

  "A message? None, Sharpe. Too busy to write, I daresay. She's a remarkably wealthy woman, did you know? She bought half the raw silk in town, hired a score of bearers and off she went. Every officer in town was leaving a card for her, but she didn't have the time of day for any of them. Off to Louisiana! " Stokes suddenly frowned.

  "What is the matter, Sharpe? You look as if you've seen a ghost. You're not sickening, are you?"

  "No, no. It's just I thought she might have written."

  "Oh! I see! You were sweet on her! " Stokes shook his head.

  "I feel for you, Sharpe, 'pon my soul, I do, but what hope could you have? A woman with her sort of fortune doesn't look at fellows like us! "Pon my soul, no. She's rich! She'll marry high, Sharpe, or as high as a woman can in French America."

  Her sort of fortune indeed! Simone had no fortune, she had been penniless when Sharpe met her, but he had trusted her. God damn the Frog bitch! Stolen a small fortune.

  "It doesn't matter, " he told Stokes, but somehow it did. Simone's betrayal was like a stab to the belly. It was not so much the jewels, for he had kept the greater part of the plunder, but the broken promises. He felt anger and pity and, above all, a fool. A great fool. He turned away from Stokes and stared down the track to where a dozen oxen escorted by two companies of sepoys were trudging towards him.

  "I've got work coming, " he said, not wanting to discuss Simone any further.

  "I passed those fellows on my way, " Stokes said, 'carrying powder, I think. I do like blowing things up. So just what do you do here, Sharpe?"

  "I keep the pioneers supplied with material, sir, and sign in all the convoys."

  "Hope it leaves you time to help me, Sharpe. You and me together again, eh? It'll be like the old days."

  "That'd be good, sir, " Sharpe said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, then he walked down the track and pointed to where the ox-drivers should drop their barrels of gunpowder. The men crowded about him with their chitties and he pulled out a pencil and scrawled his initials in the corner of each one, thus confirming that they had completed and were owed for one journey.

  The last man also handed Sharpe a sealed paper with his name written in a fine copperplate hand.

  "From the clerk, sahib, " the man said, the phrase plainly much practised for he spoke no other English.

  Sharpe tore the seal off as he walked back up the hill. The letter was not from the clerk at all, but from Torrance.

  "Bloody hell! " he cursed.

  "What is it?" Stokes asked.

  "A man called Torrance, " Sharpe complained.

  "He's in charge of the bullocks. He wants me back at Deogaum because he reckons there are forged chitties in the camp."

  "In the far south of India, " Stokes said, 'they call them shits."

  Sharpe blinked at the Major.

  "Sorry, sir?"

  "You mustn't call me «sir», Sharpe. "Pon my soul, yes. I had a Tamil servant who was forever asking me to sign his shits. Had me all in a dither at first, I can tell you."

  Sharpe crumpled Torrance's note into a ball.

  "Why the hell can't Torrance sort out his own shits?" he asked angrily. But he knew why.

  Torrance was scared of another meeting with Wellesley, which meant the Captain would now follow the rules to the letter.

  "It won't take long, " Stokes said, 'not if you take my horse. But keep her to a steady walk, Richard, because she's tired. And have her rubbed down and watered while you're sorting out the shits."

  Sharpe was touched by Stokes's generosity.

  "Are you sure?"

  "What are friends for? Go on, Richard! On horseback you'll be home for supper. I'll have my cook brew up one of those mussallas you like so much."

  Sharpe left his pack with Stokes's baggage. The big ruby and a score of other stones were in the pack, and Sharpe was half tempted to carry it to Deogaum and back, but if he could not trust Stokes, who could he trust? He tried to persuade Ahmed to stay behind and keep an eye on the baggage, but the boy refused to be parted from Sharpe and insisted on trotting along behind the horse.

  "Stokes won't hurt you, " Sh
arpe told Ahmed.

  "I'm your havildar, " Ahmed insisted, hefting his musket and peering about the deserted landscape for enemies. There was none in sight, but Ahmed's gesture reminded Sharpe of Elliott's death and he wondered if he should have waited for the ox convoy to return to Deogaum, for the convoys all had escorts of sepoys or mercenary horsemen. He was tempted to kick the horse into a trot, but he resisted the impulse.

  The danger was more acutC once he reached the lower hills, for Mahratta horsemen were forever probing the perimeter of the British camp and being chased away by cavalry patrols. Twice he saw horsemen in the distance, but neither group took any notice of Sharpe who was ready to haul Ahmed up onto the horse and then ride for his life if he was threatened. He did not relax until he met a patrol of Madrassi cavalry under the command of a Company lieutenant who escorted him safely to the encampment.

  Deogaum was now surrounded by a great spread of tents and make shift booths, homes to soldiers and camp followers. A dancing bear was performing for a crowd of infantrymen and the animal reminded Sharpe of Major Stokes's words about America. Simone! It was his own damn fault. He should never have trusted the woman. The thought of his own foolishness plunged Sharpe into a black mood that was not helped by the sight of two redcoat privates lounging on a bench outside Torrance's quarters. Neither man moved as Sharpe slid from the horse.

  He gave the reins to Ahmed and mimed that the boy should rub the grey mare down with straw and then water her.

  The two redcoats shifted slightly as if acknowledging Sharpe's presence, but neither man stood. He knew both of them; indeed, not so very long ago he had marched in the same ranks as these two men whose coats had the red facings of the 33rd. Kendrick and Lowry, they were called, and two worse characters it would have been hard to find in any light company. Both were cronies of Hakeswill's, and both had been among the small party Hakeswill had brought north in his failed attempt to arrest Sharpe.

  "On your feet, " Sharpe said.

  Kendrick glanced at Lowry, who looked back at Kendrick, and the two made faces at each other as though they were surprised by Sharpe's demands. They hesitated just long enough to make their insolence plain, but not quite long enough to make it punishable, then stood to attention.