The musket was cleaned with boiling water which Sharpe poured down the barrel, then sloshed about so that the very last remnants of powder residue were washed free. He doubted the musket needed cleaning, but he dutifully did it, then oiled the lock and put a new flint into the dog head He borrowed a sharpening stone from one of Sevajee’s men and honed the bayonet’s point so that the tip shone white and deadly, then he dabbed some oil on the blade before sliding it home into its scabbard. There was nothing else to do now except listen to the sermon, sleep and do the mundane tasks. There would be a meal to cook and the horses to water again, but those commonplace jobs were overshadowed by the knowledge that the enemy was just a short march away at Borkardan. Sharpe felt a shudder of nerves. What would battle be like? Would he stand? Or would he turn out like that corporal at Boxtel who had started to rave about angels and then had run like a spring hare through the Flanders rain?
A half-mile behind Sharpe the baggage train began to trudge into a wide field where the oxen were hobbled, the camels picketed and the elephants tethered to trees. Grass-cutters spread out into the countryside to find forage for the animals which were watered from a muddy irrigation channel. The elephants were fed piles of palm leaves and buckets of rice soaked in butter, while Captain Mackay scurried through the chaos on his small bay horse, making sure that the ammunition was being properly stowed and the animals suitably fed.
He suddenly caught sight of a disconsolate Sergeant Hakeswill and his six men.
“Sergeant! You’re still here? I thought you’d have your rogue safely pinioned by now?”
“Problems, sir,” Hakeswill said, standing rigidly to attention.
“Easy, Sergeant, stand easy. No rogue?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“So you’re back in my command, are you? That’s splendid, just splendid.” Mackay was an eager young officer who did his best to see the good in everybody, and though he found the Sergeant from the 33rd somewhat daunting, he did his best to communicate his own enthusiasm.
“Puckalees, Sergeant,” he said brightly, pucka lees
Hakeswill’s face wrenched in a series of spasms.
“Puckalees, sir?”
“Water carriers, Sergeant.”
“I knows what a pucka lee is, sir, on account of having lived in this heathen land more years than I can count, but begging your pardon, sir, what has a pucka lee to do with me?”
“We have to establish a collecting point for them,” Mackay said. The pucka lees were all on the strengths of the individual regiments and in battle their job was to keep the fighting men supplied with water.
“I need a man to watch over them,” Mackay said.
“They’re good fellows, all of them, but oddly frightened of bullets! They need chivvying along. I’ll be busy enough with the ammunition wagons tomorrow, so can I rely on you to make sure the puckakes do their job like the stout fellows they are?”
The ‘stout fellows’ were boys, grandfathers, cripples, the half-blind and the half witted
“Excellent! Excellent!” the young Captain said.
“A problem solved! Make sure you get some rest, Sergeant. We’ll all need to be sprightly tomorrow. And if you feel the need for some spiritual refreshment you’ll find the 74th are holding divine service any moment now.” Mackay smiled at Hakeswill, then set off in pursuit of an errant group of bullock carts.
“You! You! You with the tents! Not there! Come here!”
“Puckalees,” Hakeswill said, spitting, pucka lees None of his men responded for they knew well enough to leave Sergeant Hakeswill alone when he was in a more than usually foul mood.
“Could be worse, though,” he said.
“Worse?” Private Flaherty ventured.
Hakeswill’s face twitched.
“We has a problem, boys,” he said dourly, ‘and the problem is one Scottish Colonel who is attempting to bugger up the good order of our regiment. I won’t abide it, I won’t. Regimental honour is at stake, it is. He’s been wool-pulling, ain’t he? And he thinks he’s pulled it clean over our eyes, but he ain’t, because I’ve seen through him, I have, I’ve seen through his Scotch soul and it’s as rotten as rotten eggs. Sharpie’s paying him off, ain’t he? Stands to reason! Corruption, boys, nothing but corruption.” Hakeswill blinked, his mind racing.