bcornwell.sharpstiger-第2部分

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er　like　a　vertical　pencil　stroke　drawn　against　the　pale　blue　sky　and　he　knew　that　the　big　gun's　shot　must　be　ing　straight　towards　him；　and　he　knew　too　that　there　was　no　wind　to　carry　the　heavy　ball　gently　aside；　and　all　that　he　realized　in　the　second　or　so　that　the　ball　was　in　the　air；　too　short　a　time　to　react；　only　to　recognize　death's　approach；　but　then　the　ball　slammed　into　the　ground　a　dozen　paces　short　of　him　and　bounced　on　up　over　his　head　to　run　harmlessly　into　a　field　of　sugar　cane。　'I　reckon　the　bastards　have　got　your　mother　laying　the　gun　now；　Dick；　'　Garrard　said。
　'No　talking　now！'　Sergeant　Hakeswill's　voice　screeched　suddenly。　'Save　your　godless　breath。　Was　that　you　talking；　Garrard？'
　'Not　me；　Sarge。　Ain't　got　the　breath。　'
　'You　ain't　got　the　breath？'　Sergeant　Hakeswill　came　hurrying　down　the　pany's　ranks　and　thrust　his　face　up　towards　Garrard。　'You　ain't　got　the　breath？　That　means　you're　dead；　Private　Garrard！　Dead！　No　use　to　King　or　country　if　you's　dead；　but　you　never　was　any　bleeding　use　anyway。　'　The　Sergeant's　malevolent　eyes　flicked　to　Sharpe。　'Was　it　you　talking；　Sharpie？'
　'Not　me；　Sarge。　'
　You　ain't　got　orders　to　talk。　If　the　King　wanted　you　to　have　a　conversation　I'd　have　told　you　so。　Says　so　in　the　scriptures。　Give　me　your　firelock；　Sharpie。　Quick　now！'
　Sharpe　handed　his　musket　to　the　Sergeant。　It　was　Hakes…will's　arrival　in　the　pany　that　had　persuaded　Sharpe　that　it　was　time　to　run　from　the　army。　He　had　been　bored　anyway；　but　Hakeswill　had　added　injustice　to　boredom。　Not　that　Sharpe　cared　about　injustice；　for　only　the　rich　had　justice　in　this　world；　but　Hakeswill's　injustice　was　touched　with　such　malevolence　that　there　was　hardly　a　man　in　the　Light　pany　not　ready　to　rebel；　and　all　that　kept　them　from　mutiny　was　the　knowledge　that　Hakeswill　understood　their　desire；　wanted　it　and　wanted　to　punish　them　for　it。　He　was　a　great　man　for　provoking　insolence　and　then　punishing　it。　He　was　always　two　steps　ahead　of　you；　waiting　round　a　corner　with　a　bludgeon。　He　was　a　devil；　was　Hakeswill；　a　devil　in　a　smart　red　coat　decorated　with　a　sergeant's　badges。
　Yet　to　look　at　Hakeswill　was　to　see　the　perfect　soldier。　It　was　true　that　his　oddly　lumpy　face　twitched　every　few　seconds　as　though　an　evil　spirit　was　twisting　and　jerking　just　beneath　his　sun…reddened　skin；　but　his　eyes　were　blue；　his　hair　was　powdered　as　white　as　the　snow　that　never　fell　on　this　land；　and　his　uniform　was　as　smart　as　though　he　stood　guard　at　Windsor　Castle。　He　performed　drill　like　a　Prussian；　each　movement　so　crisp　and　clean　that　it　was　a　pleasure　to　watch；　but　then　the　face　would　twitch　and　his　oddly　childlike　eyes　would　flicker　a　sideways　glance　and　you　could　see　the　devil　peering　out。　Back　when　he　had　been　a　recruiting　sergeant　Hakeswill　had　taken　care　not　to　let　the　devil　show；　and　that　was　when　Sharpe　had　first　met　him；　but　now；　when　the　Sergeant　no　longer　needed　to　gull　and　trick　young　fools　into　the　ranks；　Hakeswill　did　not　care　who　saw　his　malignancy。
　
　Sharpe　stood　motionless　as　the　Sergeant　untied　the　scrap　of　rag　that　Sharpe　used　to　protect　his　musket's　lock　from　the　insidious　red　dust。　Hakeswill　peered　at　the　lock；　found　nothing　wrong；　then　turned　away　from　Sharpe　so　that　the　sun　could　fall　full　on　the　weapon。　He　peered　again；　cocked　the　gun；　dry…fired　it；　then　seemed　to　lose　interest　in　the　musket　as　a　group　of　officers　spurred　their　horses　towards　the　head　of　the　stalled　column。　'pany！'　Hakeswill　shouted。　'pany！　'Shun！'
　The　men　shuffled　their　feet　together　and　straightened　as　the　three　officers　galloped　past。　Hakeswill　had　stiffened　into　a　grotesque　pose；　his　right　boot　tucked　behind　his　left；　his　legs　straight；　his　head　and　shoulders　thrown　back；　his　belly　thrust　forward　and　his　bent　elbows　straining　to　meet　in　the　concavity　at　the　small　of　his　back。　None　of　the　other　panies　of　the　King's　33rd　Regiment　had　been　stood　to　attention　in　honour　of　the　passing　officers；　but　Hakeswill's　gesture　of　respect　was　nevertheless　ignored。　The　neglect　had　no　effect　on　the　Sergeant　who；　when　the　trio　of　officers　had　gone　past；　shouted　at　the　pany　to　stand　easy　and　then　peered　again　at　Sharpe's　musket。
　'You'll　not　find　'owt　wrong　with　it；　Sarge；　'　Sharpe　said。
　Hakeswill；　still　standing　at　attention；　did　an　elaborate　about　turn；　his　right　boot　thumping　down　to　the　ground。　'Did　I　hear　me　give　you　permission　to　speak；　Sharpie？'
　'No；　Sarge。　'
　'No；　Sarge。　No；　you　did　not。　Flogging　offence　that；　Sharpie。　'　Hakeswill's　right　cheek　twitched　with　the　involuntary　spasm　that　disfigured　his　face　every　few　seconds　and　the　vehement　evil　of　the　face　was　suddenly　so　intense　that　the　whole　Light　pany　momentarily　held　its　breath　in　expectation　of　Sharpe's　arrest；　but　then　the　thumping　discharge　of　the　enemy　cannon　rolled　across　the　countryside　and　the　heavy　ball　splashed　and　bounced　and　tore　its　way　through　a　bright…green　patch　of　growing　rice；　and　the　violence　of　the　harmless　missile　served　to　distract　Hakeswill　who　turned　to　watch　as　the　ball　rolled　to　a　stop。　'Poor　bloody　shooting；　'　Hakeswill　said　scathingly。　'Heathens　can't　lay　guns；　I　dare　say。　Or　maybe　they're　toying　with　us。　Toying！'　The　thought　made　him　laugh。　It　was　not；　Sharpe　suspected；　the　anticipation　of　excitement　that　had　brought　Sergeant　Obadiah　Hakeswill　to　this　state　of　near　joviality；　but　rather　the　thought　that　a　battle　would　cause　casualties　and　misery；　and　misery　was　the　Sergeant's　delight。　He　liked　to　see　men　cowed　and　frightened；　for　that　made　them　biddable；　and　Sergeant　Hakeswill　was　always　at　his　happiest　when　he　was　in　control　of　unhappy　men。
　The　three　officers　had　stopped　their　horses　at　the　head　of　the　column　and　now　used　telescopes　to　inspect　the　distant　ridge　which　was　clouded　by　a　ragged　fringe　of　smoke　left　from　the　last　discharge　of　the　enemy　cannon。　'That's　our　Colonel；　boys；　'　Hakeswill　announced　to　the　33rd's　Light　pany；　'Colonel　Arthur　Wellesley　himself；　God　bless　him　for　a　gentleman；　which　he　is　and　you　ain't。　He's　e　to　see　you　fight；　so　make　sure　you　do。　Fight　like　the　Englishmen　you　are。　'
　'I'm　a　Scot；　'　a　sour　voice　spoke　from　the　rear　rank。
　'I　heard　that！　Who　said　that？'　Hakeswill　glared　at　the　pany；　his　face　twitching　uncontrollably。　In　a　less　blithe　mood　the　Sergeant　would　have　ferreted　out　the　speaker　and　punished　him；　but　the　excitement　of　pending　battle　persuaded　him　to　let　the　offence　pass。　'A　Scot！'　he　said　derisively　instead。　'What　is　the　finest　thing　a　Scotsman　ever　saw？　Answer　me　that！'　No　one　did。　'The　high　road　to　England；　that's　what。　Says　so　in　the　scriptures；　so　it　must　be　true。　'　He　hefted　Sharpe's　musket　as　he　looked　down　the　waiting　ranks。　I　shall　be　watching　you；　'　he　snarled。　'You　ain't　none　of　you　been　in　a　proper　fight　before；　not　a　proper　fight；　but　on　the　other　side　of　that　bleeding　hill　there's　a　horde　of　black…faced　heathens　what　can't　wait　to　lay　their　filthy　hands　on　your　womenfolk；　so　if　so　much　as　one　of　you　turns　his　back　I'll　have　the　skin　off　the　lot　of　you！　Bare　bones　and　blood；　that's　what　you'll　be。　But　you　does　your　duty　and　obeys　your　orders　and　you　can't　go　wrong。　And　who　gives　the　orders？'
　The　Sergeant　waited　for　an　answer　and　eventually　Private　Mallinson　offered　one。　'The　officers；　Sergeant。　'
　'The　officers！　The　officers！'　Hakeswill　spat　his　disgust　at　the　answer。　'Officers　are　here　to　show　us　what　we　are　fighting　for。　Gentlemen；　they　are。　Proper　gentlemen！　Men　of　property　and　breeding；　not　broken　potboys　and　scarlet…coated　pickpockets　like　what　you　are。　Sergeants　give　the　orders。　Sergeants　is　what　the　army　is。　Remember　that；　lads！　You're　about　to　go　into　battle　against　heathens　and　if　you　ignore　me　then　you'll　be　dead　men！'　The　face　twitched　grotesquely；　its　jaw　wrenched　suddenly　sideways；　and　Sharpe；　watching　the　Sergeant's　face；　wondered　if　it　was　nervousness　that　had　made　Hakeswill　so　voluble。　'But　keeps　your　eyes　on　me；　lads；　'　Hakeswill　went　on；　'and　you'll　be　right　as　trivets。　And　you　know　why？'　He　cried　the　last　word　out　in　a　high　dramatic　tone　as　he　stalked　down　the　Light　pany's　front　rank。　'You　know　why？'　he　asked　again；　now　sounding　like　some　dissenting　preacher　ranting　in　a　hedgerow。　'Because　I　cannot　die；　boys；　I　cannot　die！'　He　was　suddenly　intense；　his　voice　hoarse　and　full　of　fervour　as　he　spoke。　It　was　a　speech　that　all　the　Light　pany　had　heard　many　times　before；　but　it　was　remarkable　for　all　that；　though　Sergeant　Green；　who　was　outranked　by　Hakeswill；　turned　away　in　disgust。　Hakeswill　jeered　at　Green；　then　tugged　at　the　tight　constriction　of　the　leather　stock　that　circled　his　neck；　pulling　it　down　so　that　an　old　dark　scar　was　visible　at　his　throat。　'The　hangman's　noose；　boys！'　he　cried。　'That's　what　marked　me　there；　the　hangman's　noose！　See　it？　See　it？　But　I　am　alive；　boys；　alive　and　on　two　feet　instead　of　being　buried　under　the　sod；　proof　as　never　was　that　you　needs　not　die！'　His　face　twitched　again　as　he　released　the　stock。　'Marked　by　God；　'　he　finished；　his　voice　gruff　with　emotion；　'that's　what　I　am；　marked　by　God！'
　'Mad　as　a　hare；　'　Tom　Garrard　muttered。
　'Did　you　speak；　Sharpie！'　Hakeswill　whipped　around　to　stare　at　Sharpe；　but　Sharpe　was　so　palpably　still　and　staring　mutely　ahead　that　his　innocence　was　indisputable。　Hakeswill　paced　back　down　the　Light　pany。　'I　have　watched　men　die；　better　men　than　any　of　you　pieces　of　scum；　proper　men；　but　God　has　spared　me！　So　you　do　what　I　says；　boys；　or　else　you'll　be　carrion。　'　He　abruptly　thrust　the　musket　back　into　Sharpe's　hands。　'Clean　weapon；　Sharpie。　Well　done；　lad。　'　He　paced　smartly　away　and　Sharpe；　to　his　surprise；　saw　that　the　scrap　of　rag　had　been　neatly　retied　about　the　lock。
　The　pliment　to　Sharpe　had　astonished　all　the　Light　pany。　'He's　in　a　rare　good　mood；　'　Garrard　said。
　I　heard　that；　Private　Garrard！'　Hakeswill　shouted　over　his　shoulder。　'Got　ears　in　the　back　of　me　head；　I　have。　Silence　now。　Don't　want　no　heathen　horde　thinking　you're　frit！　You're　white　men；　remember；　bleached　in　the　cleansing　blood　of　the　bleeding　lamb；　so　no　bleeding　talking　in　the　ranks！　Nice　and　quiet；　like　them　bleeding　nuns　what　never　utters　a　sound　on　account　of　having　had　their　papist　tongues　cut　out。　'　He　suddenly　crashed　to　attention　once　again　and　saluted　by　bringing　his　spear…tipped　halberd　across　his　body。　'pany　all　present；　si