Sharpe's Sword Part 25

CHAPTER 13.

Private Batten was annoyed, and let the rest of the Company know it. "Doesn't give a b.u.g.g.e.r, does he? Know what I mean?" No one answered. They waited on the glacis of the San Vincente fort and Lieutenant Price looked at his watch and kept glancing at the empty San Cayetano fort. Batten waited for a response. He scratched his armpit. "Used to be a bleedin' private, he did, and that's what he b.l.o.o.d.y should be now. Keeping us waiting." Still no one answered and Batten was encouraged by their silence. "Always b.u.g.g.e.ring off, have you noticed? Our company's not good enough for him, no, not Mr. b.l.o.o.d.y Sharpe. Know what I mean?" He looked round for support.

Sergeant Huckfield had gone to look for Sharpe. The men could see his red coat climbing up the ravine's side towards the San Cayetano. One or two of the men slept. Price sat down on a huge masonry block and folded Sharpe's coat beside him. He was worried.

Private Batten picked his nose and licked the result off his fingernail. "We could sit here all bleedin' night for all he bleedin' cares."

Daniel Hagman opened one eye. "He kept you from swinging by your b.l.o.o.d.y neck two years ago. He shouldn't have bothered."

Batten laughed. "They couldn't have hung me. I was innocent. He don't care, Sharpe. He's forgotten us, till he bleedin' needs us again. He's probably sitting with Harps getting drunk. T'ain't fair."

Sergeant McGovern, slow and Scottish, stood up and stretched his arms. He marched formally to Private Batten and kicked his ankles. "On your feet."

"What for?" Batten dropped into the aggrieved tone of surprise that was his main defence against an aggravating world.

"Because I'm going to smash your b.l.o.o.d.y face in."

Batten edged away from the Scotsman and looked at Lieutenant Price's back. "Hey! Lieutenant, sir!"

Price did not look round. "Carry on, Sergeant."

The men laughed. Batten looked up at McGovern. "Sarge?"

"Shut your b.l.o.o.d.y face."

"But, Sarge?"

"Shut it, or get up."

Batten subsided into what he considered injured but righteous dignity. He busied himself with his right nostril, keeping his remarks just out of the Company's hearing. Sergeant McGovern crossed to the Lieutenant and stood formally at attention. Price looked up. "Sergeant?"

"It's a bit strange, sir."

"Yes." They both watched Huckfield cross the ditch of the central fort. Price suddenly realised that McGovern, formal always, was still at attention. "Stand easy, Sergeant. Stand easy."

"Sir!" McGovern let his shoulders drop an eighth of an inch. "Thank you, sir."

Price looked at his watch. A quarter to four. He did not know what to do and felt helpless without Sharpe or Harper to guide him. He knew that the Scottish Sergeant was hinting that a decision ought to be made and he knew McGovern was right. He stared at the San Cayetano, saw Huckfield's red jacket appear on a parapet, then disappear, and after a long wait Huckfield came to the top of the crude breach and spread his hands emptily. Price sighed. "We wait till five, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

Major Hogan had waited for Sharpe, first at the ravine's head, then at Headquarters, but the fate of Colonel Leroux was not the Irishman's only concern. Wellington, now that the forts were taken, was eager to be out of the city. He wanted reports from the north, from the east, and Hogan worked late through the afternoon.

It was not till half past six that Lieutenant Price, awed by approaching Headquarters on his own responsibility, entered Hogan's room. The Major looked up, smelt trouble, and frowned. "Lieutenant?"

"It's Sharpe, sir."

"Captain Sharpe?"

Price nodded miserably. "We've lost him, sir."

"No Leroux?" Hogan had almost forgotten Leroux. He had a.s.sumed that it was now Sharpe's problem while he could concentrate on discovering what fresh levies of troops were joining Marmont. Price shook his head.

"No Leroux, sir." Price sketched in the afternoon's events.

"What have you done since?"

It did not add up to much. Lieutenant Price had searched the San Cayetano again, then La Merced, and afterwards taken the Company back to their billets in the hope that Sharpe might have turned up. There was no Sharpe, no Harper, just a lost Lieutenant Price. Hogan looked at his watch. "Good G.o.d! You've lost him for four hours?" Price nodded. Hogan shouted. "Corporal!"

A head came round the door. "Sir?"

"Daily reports, are they in?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anything odd, apart from the forts. Quick, man!"

It did not take long. A shooting and a fight at the hospital, one Frenchman had escaped and the town guard had been alerted, but there was no sign of the fugitive.

"Come on, man!" Hogan pulled on his jacket, s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat, and led Lieutenant Price down to the Irish College.

Sergeant Huckfield, who had gone with Price as far as Headquarter's front door, joined them and it was he who pounded on the gate that was still shut against the revenge of the townspeople. It did not take long to hear the story from the guards in the gate-lodge. There had been a chase. One man was wounded, probably in the wards, as to the other? The guards shrugged. "Dunno, sir."

Hogan pointed at Price. "Officers' wards. Search them. Sergeant?"

Huckfield stiffened. "Sir?"

"Other ranks' wards. Find Sergeant Harper. Go!"

Leroux at liberty. The thought haunted Hogan. He could not believe that Sharpe had failed, he needed to find the Rifleman because, he thought, surely Sharpe could throw light on the episode. It was impossible that Leroux was free!

The surgeons were still at work, dealing now with the less wounded men, taking out sc.r.a.ps of stone that the bombardment had splintered and driven into French defenders. Hogan went from room to room and none could remember a Rifle Captain. One remembered Sergeant Harper. "Out of his senses, sir."

"You mean mad?"

"No. In a faint. G.o.d knows when he'll recover."

"And his officer?"

"I didn't see an officer, sir."

Was Sharpe still on Leroux's trail? It was a hope, at least, and Hogan clung to it. Sergeant Huckfield had found Harper, had shaken the huge Irishman's shoulder, but Harper was still dead to the world, still snoring, still unable to say a thing.

Lieutenant Price came down the curving stairs. He was blinking, almost unable to speak. Hogan was impatient. "What is it?"

"He's not there, sir."

"You're sure?"