按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
rs from the city's civilian jail arrived in leg irons to take away the night…soil buckets； and when these had been emptied and returned； the first meal was served。 It was usually cold rice； sometimes with beans or scraps of fish in it； with a tin jug of water。 A second pail of rice was brought in the afternoon； but otherwise the prisoners were left alone。 They listened to the sounds above them； ever fearful that they might be summoned to face the Tippoo's dreaded killers； and while they waited McCandless prayed； Hakeswill mocked； Lawford worried and Sharpe learned his letters。
At first the learning was hard and it was made no easier by Hakeswill's constant scoffing。 Lawford and McCandless would tell the Sergeant to be quiet； but after a while Hakeswill would chuckle again and start talking； ostensibly to himself； in the far corner of his cage。 'Above himself； ain't he？' Hakeswill would mutter just loud enough for Sharpe to hear。 'Got hairs and bleeding graces。 That's what Sharpie's got。 Hairs and graces。 Learning to read！ Might as well teach a stone to fart！It ain't natural； ain't right。 A private soldier should know his place； says so in the scriptures。'
'It says nothing of the sort； Sergeant！' McCandless would always snap after such an assertion。
And always； every daylight hour of every day； there was the sound of the besiegers' guns。 Their thunderous percussions filled the sky and were echoed by the crack of iron on sun…dried mud as the eighteen…pound round shots struck home； while； nearer； the Tippoo's own guns answered。 Few such cannon had survived on the western walls； but closer to the dungeons； on the northern rampart； the Tippoo's gunners traded shot for shot with the batteries across the Cauvery and the sound of the weapons punched the warm air incessantly。
'Working hard； them gunners！' Hakeswill would say。 'Doing a proper job； like real soldiers should。 Working up a proper muck sweat。 Not wasting their time with bleeding letters。 C…A…T？ Who the hell needs to know that？ It's still a bleeding pussy cat。 All you needs to know is how to skin the thing； not how to spell it。'
'Quiet； Sergeant；' McCandless would growl。
'Yes； sir。 I shall be quiet； sir。 Like a church mouse； sir。' But a few moments later the Sergeant could be heard grumbling again。 'Private Morgan； I remembers him； and he could read and he wasn't nothing but trouble。 He always knew more than anyone else； but he didn't know better than to be flogged； did he？ Would never have happened if he hadn't had his letters。 His mother taught him； the silly Welsh bitch。 He read his Bible when he should have been cleaning his musket。 Died under the lash； he did； and good riddance。 A private soldier's got no business reading。 Bad for the eyes； sends you blind。'
Hakeswill even talked at night。 Sharpe would wake to hear the Sergeant talking in a low voice to the tiger； and one night even the tiger stopped to listen。 'You're not such a bad puss； are you？' Hakeswill crooned。 'Down here all alone； you are；just like me。' The Sergeant reached a tentative hand through the bars and gave the beast's back a swift pat。 He was rewarded with a low snarl。 'Don't you growl at me； puss； or I'll have your bleeding eyes out。 And how will you catch mouses then？ Eh？ You'll be a hungry blind pussy cat； that's what you'll be。 That's it。 Lay you down now and rest your big head； see？ Doesn't hurt； does it？' And the Sergeant reached out and； with remarkable tenderness； scratched the big cat's flank and； to Sharpe's wonder； the huge beast settled itself fortably against the bars of the Sergeant's cell。 'You're awake； aren't you； Sharpie？' Hakeswill called softly as he scratched the tiger。 'I knows you are； I can tell。 So what happened to little Mary BickerstafF； eh？ You going to tell me； boy？ Some heathen darkie got his filthy hands on her； has he？ She'd have done better lifting her skirts to me。 Instead she's being rogered by some blackie； ain't she？ Is that what happened？ Still now； still！' he soothed the tiger。 Sharpe pretended to be asleep； but Hakeswill must have sensed his attention。 'Officer's pet； Sharpie？ Is that what you are？ Learning to read so you can be like them； is that what you want？ It won't do you no good； boy。 There's only two sorts of officers in this army； and the one sort's good and the other sort ain't。 The good sort knows better than to get their hands dirty with you rankers； they leave it all to the sergeants。 The bad sort interfere。 That young Mister Fitzgerald； he was an interferer； but he's gone to hell now and hell's the best place for him； seeing as how he was an upstart Irishman with no respect for sergeants。 And your Mister Lawford； he ain't no good either； no good at all。' Hakeswill suddenly quietened as Colonel McCandless groaned。
The Colonel's fever was growing worse； though he tried hard not to plain。 Sharpe； abandoning his pretence of sleep； carried the water bucket to him。 'Drink； sir？'
'That's kind of you； Sharpe； kind。'
The Colonel drank； then propped his back against thestone wall at the back of the cell。 'We had a rainstorm last month；' he said； 'not a severe one； but these cells were flooded all the same。 And not all of the flooding was rain； a good deal was sewage。 I pray God gets us out of here before the monsoon。'
'No chance of us still being here then； is there； sir？'
'It depends； Sharpe； whether we take the city or not。'
'We will； sir；' Sharpe said。
'Maybe。' The Colonel smiled at Sharpe's serene confidence。 'But the Tippoo might decide to kill us first。' McCandless fell silent for a while； then shook his head。 'I wish I understood the Tippoo。'
'Nothing to understand； sir。 He's just an evil bastard； sir。'
'No； he's not that；' the Colonel said severely。 'He's actually rather a good ruler。 Better； I suspect； than most of our Christian monarchs。 He's certainly been good for Mysore。 He's fetched it a deal of wealth； given it more justice than most countries enjoy in India and he's been tolerant to most religions； though I fear he did persecute some unfortunate Christians。' The Colonel grimaced as a shudder racked his body。 'He's even kept the Rajah and his family alive； not in fort； but alive； and that's more than most monarchs would ever do。 Most usurpers kill their country's old ruler； but not here。 I can't forgive him for what he did to those poor prisoners of ours； of course； but I suppose some capricious cruelty is probably necessary in a ruler。 All in all； I think； and judging him by the standards of our own monarchy； we should have to give the Tippoo fairly high marks。'
'So why the hell are we fighting him； sir？'
McCandless smiled。 'Because we want to be here； and he doesn't want us to be here。 Two dogs in a small cage； Sharpe。 And if he beats us out of Mysore he'll bring in the French to chase us out of the rest of India and then we can bid farewell to the best part of our eastern trade。 That's what it's about； Sharpe； trade。 That's why you're fighting here； trade。'Sharpe grimaced。 'It seems a funny thing to be fighting about； sir。'
'Does it？' McCandless seemed surprised。 'Not to me； Sharpe。 Without trade there's no wealth； and without wealth there's no society worth having。 Without trade； Private Sharpe； we'd be nothing but beasts in the mud。 Trade is indeed worth fighting for； though the good Lord knows we don't appreciate trade much。 We celebrate kings； we honour great men； we admire aristocrats； we applaud actors； we shower gold on portrait painters and we even； sometimes； reward soldiers； but we always despise merchants。 But why？ It's the merchant's wealth that drives the mills； Sharpe； it moves the looms； it keeps the hammers falling； it fills the fleets； it makes the roads； it forges the iron； it grows the wheat； it bakes the bread and it builds the churches and the cottages and the palaces。 Without God and trade we would be nothing。'
Sharpe laughed softly。 'Trade never did 'owt for me； sir。'
'Did it not？' McCandless asked gently。 The Colonel smiled。 'So what do you think is worth fighting for； Private？'
'Friends； sir。 And pride。 We have to show that we're better bastards than the other side。'
'You don't fight for King or country？'
T've never met the King； sir。 Never even seen him。'
'He's not much to look at； but he's a decent enough man when he's not mad。' McCandless stared across at Hakeswill。 'Is he mad？'
'I think so； sir。'
'Poor soul。'
'He's evil； too；' Sharpe said； speaking too softly for Hakeswill to hear him。 'Takes a joy； sir； in having men punished。 He thieves； he lies； he rapes； he murders。'
'And you've done none of those things？'
'Never raped； sir； and as for the others； only when I had to。''Then I pray God you'll never have to again；' McCandless said fervently； and with that he leaned his grey head against the wall and tried to sleep。
Sharpe watched the dawn light seep into the dungeon pit。 The last bats of the night wheeled in the patch of sky above； but soon they were gone and the first gun of the day spoke。 It was clearing its throat； as the gunners liked to say； for the city and its besiegers were waking and the fight would go on。
The opening shot of the day was aimed at the low mud wall that plugged the gap in the glacis and kept the water dammed in the ditch behind。 The wall was thick and the shot； which fell low and so lost much of its force as it ricocheted up from the river bank； did little more than shiver dust from the wall's crevices。
One by one the other siege guns woke and had their throats blasted clear。 The first few shots were often lackadaisical as the gun barrels were still cool and thus caused the balls to fly low。 A handful of guns answered the fire from the city walls； but none of them was large。 The Tippoo was hiding his big guns for the assault； but he permitted his gunners to mount and fire their small cannon； some of which discharged a ball no bigger than a grapeshot。 The defenders' fire did no damage； but even the sound of their guns gave the citizens a feeling that they were fighting back。
This morning the British guns seemed erratic。 Every battery was at work； but their fire was uncoordinated。 Some aimed at the wall in the glacis while others targeted the higher ramparts； but an hour after dawn they all fell silent and； a moment later； the Tippoo's gunners also ceased firing。 Colonel Gudin； staring through a spyglass from the western ramparts； distinctly saw the sepoy gunners in one breaching battery heaving at the trail of their piece。 Gudin reckoned that the big guns were at last being carefully aligned on the section of wall that had been chosen for the breach。 The gunswere hot now； they would fire true； and soon they would concentrate a dreadful intensity of iron against the chosen spot in the city's defences。 With his spyglass he could see men straining at the gun； but he could not see the gun itself for the embrasure had been momentarily stopped up with wicker baskets filled with earth。 Gudin prayed that the British would take the Tippoo's bait and aim their pieces at the weakest section of the wall。
He trained his glass on the nearest battery which was scarce four hundred yards from the vulnerable section of wall。 The gunners were stripped to the waist； and no wonder； for the temperature would soon be well over ninety degrees and the humidity was already stifling and these men had to handle enormous weights of gun and shot。 An eighteen…pounder siege gun weighed close to twelve tons； and all that mass of hot metal was hurled back with each shot and the gun then had to be manhandled back into its firing position。 The shot of such a gun measured a little over five inches across； and each gun could fire perhaps one such ball every two minutes and the Tippoo's spies had reported that General Harris now had thirty…seven of these heavy guns； and two more cannon； even heavier； that each fired a twenty…four…pound missile。 Gudin； waiting for the gunfire to start again； made a simple putation in his head。 Each minute； he reckoned； about three hundred and fifty pounds of iron； travelling at unimaginably high velocities； would hammer into the city wall。 And to that hefty weight of metal the British could add a score of howitzers and several dozen twelve…pounders that would be used to bombard the walls either side of the place Ge