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datatime: 2022-11-30 16:18:08 Author:nzvLRzxL

'Sweet Jesus.' Harper stood up, 'Are you all right, sir?'

'Is that Mass?'

'Ja. Not easy, my friend.'

Lossow swore in German, stood up, flinched as he put his weight on his left leg. Sharpe looked at him. 'Are you - hurt?'

Harper kicked the fallen beam. 'Perhaps they can rig another telegraph, sir?'

'You don't sound hopeful, my friend?'

'Ja. Not easy, my friend.'

'Just a bruise.' Lossow saw the midshipman's head. 'Good God.' He knelt by Charles, felt for a pulse, and opened one of the Captain's eyelids. 'Dead, poor fellow.'

'Ja. Not easy, my friend.'

Sharpe turned round, blood flecking his uniform, and his face grim. 'We'll get out. With or without him, we'll get out.'

Sharpe turned to him. 'We must persuade Cox to let us out.'

'It'll wait.'

'Just a bruise.' Lossow saw the midshipman's head. 'Good God.' He knelt by Charles, felt for a pulse, and opened one of the Captain's eyelids. 'Dead, poor fellow.'

Lossow stood up, wiped blood from his hands. 'We must get out of here!'

'What day is it?'

'It'll wait.'

Christ, thought Sharpe, Christ and a thousand deaths. Damn the bloody French, damn the bloody gunner, and he might as well have stayed in the warm bed with his arms round the girl. Footsteps sounded in the doorway and he swivelled anxiously, but it was only a squad of bare-headed Portuguese soldiers, muskets slung, who dipped their fingers in the holy water and clattered up the aisle to the priest and his service.

The Irishman grinned. 'Wouldn't worry, sir. It doesn't offend me and if it offends Him then He's plenty of opportunity to punish you.'

Christ, thought Sharpe, Christ and a thousand deaths. Damn the bloody French, damn the bloody gunner, and he might as well have stayed in the warm bed with his arms round the girl. Footsteps sounded in the doorway and he swivelled anxiously, but it was only a squad of bare-headed Portuguese soldiers, muskets slung, who dipped their fingers in the holy water and clattered up the aisle to the priest and his service.

'Ja. Not easy, my friend.'

'What day is it?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Is that Mass?'

Lossow stood up, wiped blood from his hands. 'We must get out of here!'

'Yes.' Sharpe's shoulder hurt like the devil. 'Where's the boy?'

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