Sharpe’s Escape: The Bussaco Campaign, 1810. Bernard Cornwell
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SHARPE’S
ESCAPE
Richard Sharpe and the
Bussaco Campaign, 1811
BERNARD CORNWELL
Copyright
This novel is a work of fiction. The incidents and some of the characters portrayed in it, while based on real historical events and figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2004
Copyright © Bernard Cornwell 2004
Map © Ken Lewis
Bernard Cornwell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007120147
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2012 ISBN: 9780007338658
Version: 2017-05-06
Sharpe’s Escape is for Cece
‘What makes these books such a successful formula is the blend of action, well-researched historical setting, colourful characterization and a juicy sub-plot’
The Times
Table of Contents
Part Three: The Lines of Torres Vedras
The SHARPE Series (in chronological order)
The SHARPE Series (in order of publication)
CHAPTER ONE
Mister Sharpe was in a bad mood. A filthy mood. He was looking for trouble in Sergeant Harper’s opinion, and Harper was rarely wrong about Captain Sharpe, and Sergeant Harper knew well enough not to engage his Captain in conversation when Sharpe was in such a black temper, but on the other hand Harper liked to live dangerously. ‘I see your uniform’s been mended, sir,’ he said cheerily.
Sharpe ignored the comment. He just marched on, climbing the bare Portuguese slope under the searing sun. It was September 1810, almost autumn, yet the heat of late summer hammered the landscape like a furnace. At the top of the hill, another mile or so ahead of Sharpe, stood a barn-like stone building next to a gaunt telegraph station. The station was a black timber scaffolding supporting a high mast from which signalling arms hung motionless in the afternoon’s heat.
‘It’s a rare nice piece of stitching on that jacket,’ Harper went on, sounding as though he did not have a care in the world, ‘and I can tell you didn’t do it yourself. It looks like a woman’s work, so it does?’ He inflected the last three words as a question.
Sharpe still said nothing. His long, straight-bladed cavalry sword banged against his left thigh as he climbed. He had a rifle slung on his shoulder. An officer was not supposed to carry a longarm like his men, but Sharpe had once been a private and he was used to carrying