Crosby:
[ln a flashback to 1803, when Sharpe was still a Sergeant with the33rd Regiment in India]
It's a six day's' march! How the devil do you expect to transport 80,000 cartridges? On your back?
Sharpe:
[Deadpan]
Bullocks, sir!
[as Major Crosby reacts]
Sharpe:
- Ox-carts, sir.
Crosby:
Which you mean to hire with what? Promises?
Sharpe:
With money, sir.
[Indicates the bag on his belt]
Crosby:
Oh! Speak the language, too, do you? - Sergeant, banker and interpreter?
Sharpe:
Brought an interpreter, sir!
Crosby:
Did you? - Did you?
[Eyes Sharpe with disapproval. Sarcastically]
Crosby:
Every inch the Crown soldier! - Go and find your damn carts, Sergeant Sharpe, and let me know when you're ready!
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:49
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