Sharpe's Trafalgar Read Online Free PDF

“sir,” for a midshipman’s rank was the equivalent of an

ensign, but Sharpe was much older and, besides, a friend of the captain.
    “Mister Collier is in charge,” Hopper said again, “so if he orders us to attack a ship,

sir, attack we shall. Obey him to the death, ain’t that right, Mister Collier, sir?”
    “If you say so, Mister Hopper.”
    The crew were grinning. “Wipe those smirks off your uglies!” Hopper shouted, then spat a

stream of tobacco juice over the gunwale. His two upper front teeth were missing, which made

spitting the juice far easier. “Yes, sir,” he went on, looking at Sharpe, “I’ve served with

Captain Chase since he was a nipper. I was with him when he captured the Bouvines.”
    “The Bouvines?”
    “A Frog frigate, sir, thirty-two guns, and we was in the Spritely, twenty-eight, and it

took us twenty-two minutes first gun to last and there was blood leaking out of her scuppers

when we’d finished with her. And one day, Mister Collier, sir”—he looked sternly down at the

small boy whose face was almost entirely hidden by a cocked hat that was much too big for

him—”you’ll be in charge of one of His Majesty’s ships and it’ll be your duty and privilege to

knock a Froggy witless.”
    “I hope so, Mister Hopper.”
    The barge was traveling smoothly through water that was filthy with floating rubbish,

palm fronds and the bloated corpses of rats, dogs and cats. A score of other boats, some of

them heaped with baggage, were also rowing out to the waiting convoy. The luckiest

passengers were those whose ships were moored at the Company’s docks, but those docks were

not large enough for every merchantman that would leave for home and so most of the

travelers were being ferried out to the anchorage. “I seen your goods loaded on a native

boat, sir,” Hopper said, “and told the bastards there’d be eight kinds of hell to pay if they

weren’t delivered shipshape. They do like their games, sir, they do.” He squinted ahead and

laughed. “See? One of the buggers is up to no good right now.”
    “No good?” Sharpe asked. All he could see were two small boats that were dead in the water.

One of the two boats was piled with leather luggage while the other held three

passengers.
    “Buggers say it’ll cost a rupee to reach the ship, sir,” Hopper explained, “then they get

halfway and triple the price, and if they don’t get it they’ll row back to the quay. Our boys do

the same thing when they pick passengers up at Deal to row them out to the Downs.” He tugged on

a rudder line to skirt the two boats.
    Sharpe saw that Lord William Hale, his wife and a young man were the passengers in the

leading boat, while two servants and a pile of luggage were crammed into the second. Lord

William was speaking angrily with a grinning Indian who seemed unmoved by his lordship’s

ire.
    “His bloody lordship will just have to pay up,” Hopper said, “or else get rowed ashore.”
    “Take us close,” Sharpe said.
    Hopper glanced at him, then shrugged as if to suggest that it was none of his business if

Sharpe wanted to make a fool of himself. “Ease oars!” he shouted and the crew lifted their

dripping blades from the water to let the barge glide on until it was within a few feet of

the stranded boats. “Back water!” Hopper snapped and the oars dipped again to bring the

elegant boat to a stop.
    Sharpe stood. “You have trouble, my lord?”
    Lord William frowned at Sharpe, but said nothing, while his wife managed to suggest that an

even more noxious stench than the others in the harbor had somehow approached her delicate

nostrils. She just stared sternward, ignoring the Indian crew, her husband and Sharpe. It

was the third passenger, the young man who was dressed as soberly as a curate, who stood and

explained their trouble. “They won’t move,” he complained.
    “Be quiet, Braithwaite, be quiet and sit