Sharpe's Trafalgar Read Online Free PDF Page A

help,” Sharpe said.
    Lord William’s expression suggested that Sharpe’s help was the last thing he would ever

require. “We shall let our present arrangements stand,” he told Chase and, wasting no more

time, stalked away.
    Chase laughed softly. “Share a boat with you, Sharpe? He’d rather sprout wings and fly.”
    “I wouldn’t mind sharing a boat with her,” Sharpe said, staring at the Lady Grace who was

gazing fixedly ahead as a score of beggars whimpered a safe distance from the coachman’s

stinging whip.
    “My dear Sharpe,” Chase said, watching the carriage draw away, “you will be sharing that

lady’s company for at least four months and I doubt you will even see her. Lord William claims

she suffers from delicate nerves and is averse to company. I had her on board the Pucelle

for near a month and might have seen her twice. She sticks to her cabin, or else walks the poop

at night when no one can accost her, and I will wager you a month of your wages to a year of

mine that she will not even know your name by the time you reach England.”
    Sharpe smiled. “I don’t wager.”
    “Good for you,” Chase said. “Like a fool I played too much whist in the last month. I promised

my wife I wouldn’t plunge heavily, and God punished me for it. Dear me, what a fool I am! I

played almost every night between Calcutta and here and lost a hundred and seventy

guineas to that rich bastard. My own fault,” he admitted ruefully, “and I won’t succumb

again.” He reached out to touch the wood of the table top as if he did not trust his own

resolve. “But cash is always short, isn’t it? I’ll just have to capture the Revenant and earn

myself some decent prize money.”
    “You’ll manage that,” Sharpe said comfortingly.
    Chase smiled. “I do hope so. I fervently hope so, but once in a while, Sharpe, the damned

Frogs throw up a real seaman and the Revenant is in the hands of Capitaine Louis Montmorin.

He’s good, his men are good and his ship is good.”
    “But you’re British,” Sharpe said, “so you must be better.”
    “Amen to that,” Chase said, “amen.” He wrote his English address on a scrap of paper, then

insisted on walking Sharpe to the fort where the ensign collected his pack, after which

the two men went past the still smoking ruins of Nana Rao’s warehouse to the quay where

Chase’s barge waited. The naval captain shook Sharpe’s hand. “I remain entirely in your

debt, Sharpe.”
    “You’re making too much of it, sir.”
    Chase shook his head. “I was a fool last night, and if it hadn’t been for you I’d be looking

an even greater fool this morning. I am beholden to you, Sharpe, and shall not forget it.

We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.”
    “I hope so, sir,” Sharpe said, then went down the greasy steps. It was time to go home.
    The crew of Captain Chase’s barge were still bruised and bloodied, but in good spirits

after their night’s adventure. Hopper, the bosun who had fought so stoutly, helped Sharpe

down into the barge which was painted dazzling white with a red stripe around its gunwales to

match the red bands painted on the white-shafted oars. “You had breakfast, sir?” Hopper

asked.
    “Captain Chase looked after me.”
    “He’s a good man,” Hopper said warmly. “None better.”
    “You’ve known him long?” Sharpe asked.
    “Since he was as old as Mister Collier,” the bosun said, jerking his head at a small boy,

perhaps twelve years old, who sat beside him in the stern. Mister Collier was a midshipman

and, once Sharpe had been safely delivered to the Calliope, he had the responsibility of

fetching the liquor for Captain Chase’s private stores. “Mister Collier,” the bosun went

on, “is in charge of this boat, ain’t that so, sir?”
    “I am,” Collier said in a still unbroken voice. He held a hand to Sharpe. “Harry Collier,

sir.” He had no need to call Sharpe