bcornwell.sharpstiger-第21部分

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andless；　the　General　surrendered　to　Baird's　enthusiasm　and　so；　with　a　heavy　heart；　Harris　had　ordered　the　unfortunate　Sharpe　fetched　to　the　tent。　Which　was　why；　at　long　last；　Private　Richard　Sharpe　limped　into　the　wan；　yellow　light　cast　through　the　tent's　high　canvas。　He　was　dressed　in　a　clean　uniform；　but　everyone　in　the　tent　could　see　that　he　was　still　in　dreadful　pain。　He　moved　stiffly；　and　the　stifihess　was　not　just　caused　by　the　yards　of　bandage　that　circled　his　torso；　but　by　the　agony　of　every　movement　of　his　body。　He　had　tried　to　wash　the　blood　out　of　his　hair　and　had　succeeded　in　taking　out　most　of　the　powder　as　well　so　that　when　Colonel　Wellesley　told　him　to　take　off　his　shako　he　appeared　with　curiously　mottled　hair。
　'I　think　you'd　better　sit；　man；'　General　Baird　suggested；　with　a　glance　at　Harris　for　his　permission。
　'Fetch　that　stool；'　Harris　ordered　Sharpe；　then　saw　that　the　private　could　not　bend　down　to　pick　it　up。
　Baird　fetched　the　stool。　'Is　it　hurting？'　he　asked　sympathetically。
　'Yes；　sir。'
　'It's　supposed　to　hurt；'　Wellesley　said　curdy。　'Pain　is　the　point　of　punishment。'　He　kept　his　back　to　Sharpe；　pointedly　demonstrating　his　disapproval。　'I　do　not　like　cancelling　a　flogging；'　Wellesley　went　on　to　no　one　in　particular。　'It　erodes　good　order。　Once　men　think　their　sentences　can　be　curtailed；　then　God　only　knows　what　roguery　they'll　be　up　to。'　He　suddenly　twisted　in　his　chair　and　gave　Sharpe　an　icy　glare。　'If　I　had　my　way；　Private　Sharpe；　I'd　march　you　back　to　the　triangle　and　finish　the　job。''I　doubt　Private　Sharpe　even　deserved　the　punishment；'　Lawford　dared　to　intervene；　blushing　as　he　did。
　'The　time　for　that　sentiment；　Lieutenant；　was　during　the　court　martial！'　Wellesley　snapped；　his　tone　suggesting　that　it　would　have　been　a　wasted　sentiment　anyway。　'You've　been　lucky；　Private　Sharpe；'　Wellesley　said　with　distaste。　'I　shall　announce　that　you've　been　spared　the　rest　of　your　punishment　as　a　reward　for　fighting　well　the　other　day。　Did　you　fight　well？'
　Sharpe　nodded。　'Killed　my　share　of　the　enemy；　sir。'
　'So　I'm　muting　your　sentence。　And　tonight；　damn　your　eyes；　you'll　reward　me　by　deserting。'
　Sharpe　wondered　if　he　had　heard　right；　decided　it　was　best　not　to　ask；　and　so　he　looked　away　from　the　Colonel；　posed　his　face；　and　stared　fixedly　at　the　wall　of　the　tent。
　'Have　you　ever　thought　about　deserting；　Sharpe？'　General　Baird　asked　him。
　'Me；　sir？'　Sharpe　managed　to　look　surprised。　'Not　me；　sir；　no；　sir。　Never　crossed　my　mind；　sir。'
　Baird　smiled。　〃We　need　a　good　liar　for　this　particular　service。　So　maybe　you're　an　excellent　choice；　Sharpe。　Besides；　anyone　who　looks　at　your　back　will　know　why　you　wanted　to　desert。'　Baird　liked　that　idea　and　his　face　betrayed　a　sudden　enthusiasm。　'In　fact　if　you　hadn't　already　conveniently　had　yourself　flogged；　man；　we　might　have　had　to　give　you　a　few　lashes　anyway！'　He　smiled。
　Sharpe　did　not　smile　back。　Instead　he　looked　warily　from　one　officer　to　the　other。　He　could　see　that　Mister　Lawford　was　nervous；　Baird　was　doing　his　best　to　be　friendly；　General　Harris's　face　was　unreadable；　while　Colonel　Wellesley　had　turned　away　in　disgust。　But　Wellesley　had　always　been　a　cold　fish；　so　there　was　no　point　in　trying　to　gain　his　approval。　Baird　was　the　man　who　had　saved　him；　Sharpe　guessed；　and　that　fitted　with　Baird's　reputation　in　the　army。　The　Scotsman　was　a　soldier's　general；　a　brave　man　and　well　liked　by　the　troops。Baird　smiled　again；　trying　to　put　Sharpe　at　his　ease。　'Let　me　explain　why　you're　running；　Sharpe。　Three　days　ago　we　lost　a　good　man；　a　Colonel　McCandless。　The　Tippoo's　forces　captured　him　and；　so　far　as　we　know；　they　took　him　back　to　Seringapatam。　We　want　you　to　go　to　that　city　and　be　captured　by　the　Tippoo's　forces。　Are　you　understanding　me　this　far？'
　'Yes；　sir；'　Sharpe　said　obediently。
　'Good　man。　Now；　when　you　reach　Seringapatam　the　Tippoo　will　want　you　to　join　his　army。　He　likes　to　have　white　men　in　his　ranks；　so　you　won't　have　any　trouble　taking　his　shilling。　And　once　you're　trusted　your　job　is　to　find　Colonel　McCandless　and　bring　him　out　alive。　Are　you　still　following　me；　now？'
　'Yes；　sir；'　Sharpe　said　stoically；　and　wondered　why　they　did　not　first　ask　him　to　hop　over　to　London　and　steal　the　crown　jewels。　Bloody　idiots！　Put　a　bit　of　gold　lace　on　a　man's　coat　and　his　brain　turned　to　mush！　Still；　they　were　doing　what　he　wanted　them　to　do；　which　was　kicking　him　out　of　the　army　and　so　he　sat　very　still；　very　quiet　and　very　straight；　not　so　much　out　of　respect；　but　because　his　back　hurt　like　the　very　devil　every　time　he　moved。
　'You　won't　be　going　alone；'　Baird　told　Sharpe。　'Lieutenant　Lawford　volunteered　your　services　and　he's　going　as　well。　He'll　pretend　to　be　a　private　and　a　deserter；　and　your　job　is　to　look　after　him。'
　'Yes；　sir；'　Sharpe　said；　and　hid　his　dismay　that　perhaps　things　were　not　going　to　be　quite　so　easy　after　all。　He　could　not　just　run　now；　not　with　Lawford　tied　to　his　apron　strings。　He　glanced　at　the　Lieutenant；　who　gave　him　a　reassuring　smile。
　'The　thing　is；　Sharpe；'　Lawford　said；　still　smiling；　T'm　not　too　certain　I　can　pass　myself　off　as　a　private。　But　they'll　believe　you；　and　you　can　say　I'm　a　new　recruit。'
　A　new　recruit！　Sharpe　almost　laughed。　You　could　no　more　pass　the　Lieutenant　off　as　a　new　recruit　than　you　could　passSharpe　off　as　an　officer！　He　had　an　idea　then；　and　the　idea　surprised　him；　not　because　it　was　a　good　idea；　but　because　it　implied　he　was　suddenly　trying　to　make　this　idiotic　scheme　work。　'Better　if　you　said　you　was　a　pany　clerk；　sir。'　He　muttered　the　words　too　softly；　made　shy　by　the　presence　of　so　many　senior　officers。
　'Speak　up；　man！'　Wellesley　snarled。
　'It　would　be　better；　sir；'　Sharpe　said　so　loudly　that　he　was　verging　on　insolence；　'if　the　Lieutenant　said　he　was　a　pany　clerk；　sir。'
　'A　clerk？'　Baird　asked。　'Why？'
　'He's　got　soft　hands；　sir。　Clean　hands；　sir。　Clerks　don't　muck　about　in　the　dirt　like　the　rest　of　us。　And　recruits；　sir；　they're　usually　just　as　filthy…handed　as　the　rest　of　us。　But　not　clerks；　sir。'　Harris；　who　had　been　writing；　looked　up　with　a　faint　expression　of　admiration。　'Put　some　ink　on　his　hands；　sir；'　Sharpe　still　spoke　to　Baird；　'and　he　won't　look　wrong。'
　'I　like　it；　Sharpe；　indeed　I　do！'　Baird　said。　'Well　done。'
　Wellesley　sneered；　then　pointedly　stared　through　one　of　the　tent　openings　as　though　he　found　the　proceedings　tiresome。　General　Harris　looked　at　Lawford。　'You　could　manage　to　play　the　part　of　a　disgruntled　clerk；　Lieutenant？'　he　asked。
　'Oh；　indeed；　sir。　I'm　sure；　sir。'　Lawford　at　last　sounded　confident。
　'Good；'　Harris　said；　laying　down　his　pen。　The　General　wore　a　wig　to　hide　the　scar　where　an　American　bullet　had　torn　away　a　scrap　of　his　skull　on　Bunker　Hill。　Now；　unconsciously；　he　lifted　a　corner　of　the　wig　and　scratched　at　that　old　scar。　'And　I　suppose；　once　you　reach　the　city；　you　contact　this　merchant。　Remind　me　of　his　name；　Baird？'
　'Ravi　Shekhar；　sir。'
　'And　what　if　this　fellow　Shekhar　ain't　there？'　Harris　asked。　'Or　won't　help？'　There　was　silence　after　the　question。　The　sentries　outside　the　tent；　moved　far　enough　away　so　they　could　not　overhear　the　conversation；　stamped　up　and　down。A　dog　barked。　'You　have　to　anticipate　these　things；'　Harris　said　mildly；　scratching　again　under　his　wig。　Wellesley　offered　a　harsh　laugh；　but　no　suggestion。
　'If　Ravi　Shekhar　won't　help　us；　sir；'　Baird　suggested；　'then　Lawford　and　Sharpe　must　get　themselves　into　McCandless's　jail；　then　find　a　way　of　getting　themselves　out。　〃The　Scotsman　turned　to　Sharpe。　'Were　you　by　any　chance　a　thief　before　you　joined　up？'
　A　heartbeat's　hesitation；　then　Sharpe　nodded。　'Yes；　sir。'
　'What　kind　of　a　thief？'　Wellesley　asked　in　a　disgusted　voice　as　though　he　was　astonished　to　discover　the　ranks　of　his　battalion　contained　criminals；　and；　when　Sharpe　did　not　answer；　the　Colonel　became　even　more　irritable。　'A　diver？　A　scamp？'
　Sharpe　was　surprised　that　his　Colonel　even　knew　such　slang。　He　shook　his　head　indignantly；　denying　he　had　ever　been　a　mere　pickpocket　or　a　highwayman。　'I　was　a　house　boner；　sir；'　he　said。　'And　proper　trained　too；'　he　added　proudly。　In　fact　he　had　done　his　share　on　the　highway；　not　so　much　holding　up　coaches　as　slicing　the　leather　straps　that　held　the　passengers'　portmanteaus　on　the　back　of　coaches。　The　job　was　done　while　the　coach　was　speeding　along　a　road　so　that　the　noise　of　the　hooves　and　wheels　would　hide　the　sound　of　the　tumbling　luggage。　It　was　a　job　for　agile　youngsters　and　Sharpe　had　been　good　at　it。
　'A　house　boner　means　he　was　a　burglar；'　Wellesley　translated　for　his　two　senior　officers；　unable　to　hide　his　scorn。
　Baird　was　pleased　with　Sharpe's　answers。　'Do　you　still　have　a　picklock；　Private？'
　'Me；　sir？　No；　sir。　But　I　suppose　I　could　find　one；　sir；　if　I　had　a　guinea。'
　Baird　laughed；　suspecting　the　true　cost　was　nearer　a　shilling；　but　he　still　went　to　his　coat　which　was　hanging　from　a　hook　on　one　of　the　tent　poles　and　fished　out　a　guinea　which　he　tossed　onto　Sharpe's　lap。　'Find　one　before　tonight；　PrivateSharpe；'　he　said；　'for　who　knows；　it　might　be　useful。'　He　turned　to　Harris。　'But　I　doubt　it　will　e　to　that；　sir。　I　pray　it　doesn't　e　to　that　for　I'm　not　sure　that　any　man；　even　Private　Sharpe　here；　can　escape　from　the　Tippoo's　dungeons。'　The　tall　General　turned　back　to　Sharpe。　'I　was　near　four　years　in　those　cells；　Sharpe；　and　in　all　that　time　not　one　man　escaped。　Not　one。'　Baird　paced　restlessly　as　he　remembered　the　ordeal。　'The　Tippoo's　cells　have　barred　doors　with　padlocks；　so　your　picklock　could　take　care　of　that；　but　when　I　was　there　we　always　had　four　jailers　in　the　daytime；　and　some　days　there　were　even　jettis　on　guard。'
　'Jettis；　sir？'　Lawford　asked。
　'Jettis；　Lieutenant。　The　Tippoo　inherited　a　dozen　of　the　bastards　from　his　father。　They're　professional　strongmen　and　their　favourite　trick　is　executing　prisoners。　They　have　several　ways　of　doing　it；　none　of　them　pleasant。　You　want　to　know　their　methods？'
　'No；　sir；'　Lawford　said　hurriedly；　blanching　at　the　thought。　Sharpe　was　disappointed；　but　dared　not　ask　for　the　details。
　Baird　grimaced。　'Very　unpleasant　executions；　Lieutenant；'　he　said　grimly。　'You　still　want　to　go？'
　Lawford　remained　pale；　but　nodded。　'I　think　it's　worth　a　try；　sir。'
　Wellesley　snorted　at　the