Sharpe 18 - Sharpe's Siege Read Online Free PDF Page A

had delayed this meeting.
    Sharpe sat beside Elphinstone in a chair close to the windows that looked on to the big, grey Atlantic swells that scarcely moved the Vengeance's ponderous hull. He sensed an awkwardness in the cabin, and he judged that there was disagreement between Wigram and Elphinstone, a judgment that was confirmed when the tall Engineer leaned towards him. “It's all bloody madness, Sharpe. Marines have got the pox so they want you instead.”
    The comment, ostensibly made in a confiding voice, had easily carried to the far end of the table where Bampfylde sat. The naval captain frowned. “Our Marines have a contagious fever, Elphinstone; not the pox.”
    Elphinstone snorted derision, while Colonel Wigram, on Sharpe's left, opened a leather-bound notebook. The middle-aged Wigram had the manner of a man whose life had been spent in an office; as though all his impetuosity and enjoyment had been drained by dusty, dry files. His voice was precise and fussy.
    Yet even Wigram's desiccated voice could not drain the excitement from the proposals he brought to this council of war. One hundred miles to the north, and far behind enemy lines, was a fortress called the Teste de Buch. The fortress guarded the entrance to a natural harbour, the Bassin d'Arcachon, which was just twenty-five miles from the city of Bordeaux.
    Elphinstone, at the mention of Bordeaux, gave a scornful grunt that was ignored by the rest of the cabin.
    The fortress of Teste de Buch, Wigram continued, was to be captured by a combined naval and Army force. The expedition's naval commander would be Captain Bampfylde, while the senior Army officer would be Major Sharpe. Sharpe, understanding that the chill, pedantic Wigram would not be travelling north, felt a pang of relief.
    Wigram gave Sharpe a cold, pale glance. “Once the fortress is secured, Major, you will march inland to ambush the high road of France. A successful ambush will alarm Marshal Soult, and might even detach French troops to guard against further such attacks.” Wigram paused. It seemed to Sharpe, listening to the slap of water at the Vengeance's stern, that there was an unnatural strain in the cabin, as though Wigram approached a subject that had been discussed and argued before Sharpe arrived.
    “It is to be hoped,” Wigram turned a page of his notebook, “that any prisoners you take in the ambush will provide confirmation of reports reaching us from the city of Bordeaux.”
    “Balderdash,” Elphinstone said loudly.
    “Your dissent is already noted,” Wigram said dismissively.
    “Reports!” Elphinstone sneered the word. “Children's tales, rumours, balderdash!”
    Sharpe, uncomfortably trapped between the two men, kept his voice very mild. “Reports, sir?”
    Captain Bampfylde, evidently Wigram's ally in the disagreement, chose to reply. “We hear, Sharpe, that the city of Bordeaux is ready to rebel against the Emperor. If it's true, and we profoundly hope that it is, then we believe the city might rise in spontaneous revolt when they hear that His Majesty's forces are merely a day's march away.”
    “And if they do rise,” Colonel Wigram took up the thread, “then we shall ship troops north to Arcachon and invade the city, thus cutting France in two.”
    “You note, Sharpe,” Elphinstone was relishing this chance to stir more trouble, “that you, a mere major, are chosen to make the reconnaissance. Thus, if anything goes wrong, you will carry the blame.”
    “Major Sharpe will make his own decisions,” Wigram said blandly, “after interrogating his prisoners.”
    “Meaning you won't go to Bordeaux,” Elphinstone said confidingly to Sharpe.
    “But you have been chosen, Major,” Wigram's pale eyei looked at Sharpe, “not because of your lowly rank, as Colonel Elphinstone believes, but because you are known as a gallant officer unafraid of bold decisions.”
    “In short,” Elphinstone continued the war across the table, “because you will make an ideal