Sergeant Hakeswill who had suddenly appeared from the bushes to his left.
'Sharpie! Hakeswill shouted. 'You bastard! He slashed wildly at Sharpe with his bloody halberd. Morris, hearing Hakeswill's name shouted, had ordered the Sergeant to find whoever was summoning him and Hakeswill had unwillingly obeyed. Now, suddenly, Hakeswill was alone with Sharpe and the Sergeant slammed the spear forward again. 'Traitorous little bastard! Hakeswill said.
'For Christ's sake, drop it! Sharpe shouted, retreating before the quick lunges of the spear head.
'Running off to the enemy, Sharpie? Hakeswill said. 'I should take you in, shouldn't I? It'll be another court martial and a firing party this time. But I won't risk that. I'm going to put your gizzards on a skewer, Sharpie, and send you back to your maker. And wearing a frock, too? The Sergeant stabbed again, and Sharpe leapt back once more, but then the dying rocket fizzed across the clearing and its long bamboo stick tangled Sharpe's legs. He fell backwards and Hakeswill gave a shout of triumph as he sprang towards him with the halberd poised ready to lunge downwards.
Sharpe felt the rocket's iron tube under his right hand, gripped it and threw it up at Hakeswill's face. The rocket's gunpowder fuel was almost gone, but there was just enough left to spurt one last sudden flame that licked across Hakeswill's blue-eyed face. The Sergeant screamed, dropped the halberd and clapped his hands to his eyes. To his surprise he discovered he could still see and that his face was not badly burned, but in his panic he had stumbled past Sharpe and so now he turned back and, as he did so, he dragged a pistol out of his belt. Just then a squad of redcoats burst into the clearing. The burning carcass of the rocket showed that they were men from the 33rd's Grenadier Company who were as lost as every other redcoat on this night of chaos. One of the grenadiers saw Sharpe who, in his tiger-striped tunic, was scrambling to his feet. The grenadier raised his gun. 'Leave the bastard! Hakeswill screamed. 'He's mine!
Then a volley of musketry flamed from the trees and half of the grenadiers spun round or were hurled backwards. Blood hissed in the fiery remnants of the rocket as a company of tiger-striped troops burst out of the trees. Colonel Gudin and Sergeant Rothiere led them. Hakeswill turned to run at the sight of the enemy, but one of the Tippoo's men lunged forward with a bayonet-tipped musket and succeeded in driving the Sergeant down to the ground where he first twisted frantically aside, then screamed for mercy. Gudin ran past the fallen Hakeswill. 'Well done, Sharpe, Gudin called. 'Well done! Stop that! Stop that! These last orders were to the Tippoo's men who had enthusiastically begun to bayonet the surviving grenadiers. 'We take prisoners! Gudin roared. 'Prisoners! Rothiere knocked a bayonet aside to stop the soldier from slaughtering Hakeswill.
Sharpe was cursing. He had so nearly got clean away! If Hakeswill had not attacked him he might have run another fifty yards through the trees, discarded the tiger-striped tunic and discovered some of his old friends. Instead he had become a hero to Gudin who believed that Sharpe had lured all the grenadiers into the clearing where the twelve who had survived the enthusiastic attack were now prisoners along with the twitching and cursing Hakeswill.
'You took a terrible risk, Corporal! Gudin said, coming back to Sharpe and sheathing his sword. 'You could have been shot by your old friends. But it worked, eh? And now you are a corporal!
'Aye, sir. It worked, Sharpe said, though he took no pleasure in it. It had all gone so disastrously wrong, indeed the whole night had gone disastrously wrong for the British. The Tippoo's men were now clearing the tope yard by yard, and chasing British survivors back across the aqueduct. They pursued the beaten fugitives with jeers, volleys of musket fire and salvoes of rockets. Thirteen prisoners had been taken, all by Sharpe and Gudin, and those unfortunate men were herded back towards the city while the redcoat dead were looted for weapons and valuables.
'I'Il make sure the Tippoo hears of your bravery, Sharpe, Gudin said as he retrieved his horse. 'He's a brave man himself and he admires it in others. I don't doubt he'll want to reward you!
'Thank you, sir, Sharpe said, though without enthusiasm.
'You're not wounded, are you? Gudin asked anxiously, struck by the forlorn tone of Sharpe's voice.
'Burned my hand, sir, Sharpe said. He had not realized it when he snatched up the rocket tube to fend off Hakeswill, but the metal cylinder had scorched his hand, though not badly. 'Nothing much, he added. 'I'Il live.
'Of course you'll live, Gudin said, then laughed delightedly. 'Gave them a beating, didn't we?
'Trounced 'em proper, sir.
'And we'll trounce them again, Sharpe, when they attack the city. They don't know what's waiting for them!
'What is waiting for them, sir? Sharpe asked.
'You'll see. You'll see, Gudin said, then hauled himself up into his saddle. Sergeant Rothiere wanted to stay in the tope to retrieve British muskets, so the Colonel insisted that Sharpe ride the second horse back to the city with the disconsolate prisoners who were under the guard of a gleeful company of the Tippoo's troops.
Hakeswill looked up at Sharpe and spat. 'Bloody traitor!
'Ignore him, Gudin said.
'Snake! Hakeswill hissed. 'Piece of no-good shit, that's what you are, Sharpie. Jesus Christ! This last imprecation was because one of the escorting soldiers had hit the back of Hakeswill's head with a musket barrel. 'Black bastard, Hakeswill muttered.
'I'd like to kick his bloody teeth in, sir, Sharpe said to Gudin. 'In fact, if you've no objection, sir, I'll take the bastard into the dark and finish him off.
Gudin sighed. 'I do object, the Colonel said mildly, 'because it's rather important we treat prisoners well, Sharpe. I sometimes fear the Tippoo doesn't understand the courtesies of war, but so far I've managed to persuade him that if we treat our prisoners properly then our enemies will treat theirs properly in return.
'Id still like to kick the bastard's teeth in, sir.
'I assure you the Tippoo might do that without any help from you, Gudin said grimly.
Sharpe and the Colonel spurred ahead of the prisoners to cross the bridge back to the city where they dismounted at the Mysore Gate. Sharpe handed the mare's reins to Gudin who thanked him yet again and tossed him a whole golden haideri as a reward. 'Go and get drunk, Sharpe, the Colonel said, 'you deserve it.
'Thank you, sir.
'And believe me, I'll tell the Tippoo. He admires bravery!
Lieutenant Lawford was among the curious crowd who waited just inside the gate. 'What happened? he asked Sharpe.
'I buggered up, Sharpe said bitterly. 'I bloody well buggered it up. Come on, let's spend some money. Get drunk.
'No, wait. Lawford had seen the redcoats coming through the flame light of the gate torches and he pulled away from Sharpe to watch as the thirteen prisoners were pushed at bayonet point into the city. The crowd began jeering.
'Come away! Sharpe insisted and he tugged at Lawford's elbow.
Lawford shook off the tug and stared at the prisoners, unable to hide his chagrin at the sight of British soldiers being herded into captivity. Then he recognized Hakeswill who, at the same instant, stared into the Lieutenant's face, and Sharpe saw Hakeswill's look of utter astonishment. For a second the world seemed to pause in its turning. Lawford appeared unable to move, while Hakeswill was gaping with disbelief and seemed about to shout his recognition. Sharpe was reaching to snatch a musket from one of the Tippoo's infantrymen, but then Hakeswill turned deliberately away and composed his features as though sending a silent message that he would not remark on Lawford's presence. The twelve grenadier prisoners were still a few yards behind and Lawford, suddenly realizing that yet more men of his battalion might recognize him, at last turned away. He pulled Sharpe with him. Sharpe protested. 'I want to kill Hakeswill!
'Come on! Lawford hurried down an alley. The Lieutenant had gone pale. He stopped beside the arched doorway of a small temple that was surmounted by a carving of a cow resting beneath a parasol. Little flames sputtered inside the sanctuary. 'Will he say anything? Lawford asked.
'That bastard? Sharpe said. 'Anything's possible.
'Surely not. He wouldn't betray us, Lawford said, then shuddered. 'What happened, for God's sake?
Sharpe told him of the night's events and how close he had come to making a clean break back to the British lines. Tt were bloody Hakeswill that stopped me, he complained.
'He could have misunderstood you, Lawford said.
'Not him.
