Sharpe 21 - Sharpe's Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

Harper, soaked to the skin, reached the quayside in Jamestown where the Espiritu Santos longboats waited to take the passengers back to Ardiles's ship.
    At the quayside a British officer waited in the rain. “Mister Sharpe?” He stepped up to Sharpe as soon as the Rifleman dismounted from his mule.
    “Lieutenant Colonel Sharpe,” Sharpe answered, irritated by the man's tone.
    “Of course, sir. And a moment of your time, if you would be so very kind?” The man, a tall and thin Major, smiled and guided Sharpe a few paces away from the curious Spanish officers. “Is it true, sir, that General Bonaparte favored you with a gift?”
    “He favored each of us with a gift.” Each of the Spaniards, except for Ardiles who had received nothing, had been given a silver teaspoon engraved with Napoleon's cipher, while Harper had received a silver thimble inscribed with Napoleon's symbol, a honeybee. Sharpe, having struck an evident note of affection in the Emperor, had been privileged with a silver locket containing a curl of the Emperor's hair.
    “But you, sir, forgive me, have a particular gift?” the Major insisted.
    “Do I?” Sharpe challenged the Major, and wondered which of the Emperor's servants was the spy.
    “Sir Hudson Lowe, sir, would appreciate it mightily if you were to allow him to see the gift.” Behind the Major stood an impassive file of redcoats.
    Sharpe took the locket from out of his pocket and pressed the button that snapped open the silver lid. He showed the Major the lock of hair. “Tell Sir Hudson Lowe, with my compliments, that his dog, his wife or his barber can provide him with an infinite supply of such gifts.”
    The Major glanced at the Spanish officers who, in turn, glowered back. Their displeasure was caused simply by the fact that the Major's presence delayed their departure, and every second's delay kept them from the comforts of the Espiritu Santa's saloon, but the tall Major translated their enmity as something that might lead to an international incident. “You're carrying no other gifts from the General?” he asked Sharpe.
    “No others,” Sharpe lied. In his pocket he had a framed portrait of Bonaparte, which the Emperor had inscribed to his admirer, whose name was Lieutenant Colonel Charles, but that portrait, Sharpe decided, was none of Sir Hudson Lowe's business.
    The Major bowed to Sharpe. “If you insist, sir.”
    “I do insist, Major.”
    The Major clearly did not believe Sharpe, but could do nothing about it. He stepped stiffly backward. “Then good day to you, sir.”
    The Espiritu Santo weighed anchor in the next day's dawn and, under a watery sun, headed southward. By midday the island of Saint Helena with its ring of warships was left far behind, as was the Emperor, chained to his rock.
    And Sharpe, carrying Bonaparte's gift, sailed to a distant war.

CHAPTER 1
    BAUTISTA
     Capitan-General Vivar's wife, the Countess of Mouromorto, had been born and raised in England, but Sharpe had first met Miss Louisa Parker when, in 1809 and with thousands of other refugees, she was fleeing from Napoleon's invasion of northern Spain. The Parker family, oblivious to the chaos that was engulfing a continent, could grieve only for their lost Protestant Bibles with which they had forlornly hoped to convert Papist Spain. Somehow, in the weltering chaos, Miss Louisa Parker had met Don Bias Vivar who, later that same year, became the Count of Mouromorto. Miss Parker had meanwhile become a Papist, and thereafter Bias Vivar's wife. Sharpe saw neither of them again till, in the late summer of 1819, Dona Louisa Vivar, Countess of Mouromorto, arrived unannounced and unexpected in the Normandy village where Sharpe farmed.
    At first Sharpe did not recognize the tall, black-dressed woman whose carriage, attended by postilions and outriders, drew up under the chateau's crumbling arch. He had supposed the lavish carriage to belong to some rich person who, traveling about Normandy, had become lost in