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.’