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pussy cat。 All you needs to know is how to skin the thing； not how to spell it。'
'Quiet； Sergeant；' McCandless would growl。
'Yes； sir。 I shall be quiet； sir。 Like a church mouse； sir。' But a few moments later the Sergeant could be heard grumbling again。 'Private Morgan； I remembers him； and he could read and he wasn't nothing but trouble。 He always knew more than anyone else； but he didn't know better than to be flogged； did he？ Would never have happened if he hadn't had his letters。 His mother taught him； the silly Welsh bitch。 He read his Bible when he should have been cleaning his musket。 Died under the lash； he did； and good riddance。 A private soldier's got no business reading。 Bad for the eyes； sends you blind。'
Hakeswill even talked at night。 Sharpe would wake to hear the Sergeant talking in a low voice to the tiger； and one night even the tiger stopped to listen。 'You're not such a bad puss； are you？' Hakeswill crooned。 'Down here all alone； you are；just like me。' The Sergeant reached a tentative hand through the bars and gave the beast's back a swift pat。 He was rewarded with a low snarl。 'Don't you growl at me； puss； or I'll have your bleeding eyes out。 And how will you catch mouses then？ Eh？ You'll be a hungry blind pussy cat； that's what you'll be。 That's it。 Lay you down now and rest your big head； see？ Doesn't hurt； does it？' And the Sergeant reached out and； with remarkable tenderness； scratched the big cat's flank and； to Sharpe's wonder； the huge beast settled itself fortably against the bars of the Sergeant's cell。 'You're awake； aren't you； Sharpie？' Hakeswill called softly as he scratched the tiger。 'I knows you are； I can tell。 So what happened to little Mary BickerstafF； eh？ You going to tell me； boy？ Some heathen darkie got his filthy hands on her； has he？ She'd have done better lifting her skirts to me。 Instead she's being rogered by some blackie； ain't she？ Is that what happened？ Still now； still！' he soothed the tiger。 Sharpe pretended to be asleep； but Hakeswill must have sensed his attention。 'Officer's pet； Sharpie？ Is that what you are？ Learning to read so you can be like them； is that what you want？ It won't do you no good； boy。 There's only two sorts of officers in this army； and the one sort's good and the other sort ain't。 The good sort knows better than to get their hands dirty with you rankers； they leave it all to the sergeants。 The bad sort interfere。 That young Mister Fitzgerald； he was an interferer； but he's gone to hell now and hell's the best place for him； seeing as how he was an upstart Irishman with no respect for sergeants。 And your Mister Lawford； he ain't no good either； no good at all。' Hakeswill suddenly quietened as Colonel McCandless groaned。
The Colonel's fever was growing worse； though he tried hard not to plain。 Sharpe； abandoning his pretence of sleep； carried the water bucket to him。 'Drink； sir？'
'That's kind of you； Sharpe； kind。'
The Colonel drank； then propped his back against thestone wall at the back of the cell。 'We had a rainstorm last month；' he said； 'not a severe one； but these cells were flooded all the same。 And not all of the flooding was rain； a good deal was sewage。 I pray God gets us out of here before the monsoon。'
'No chance of us still being here then； is there； sir？'
'It depends； Sharpe； whether we take the city or not。'
'We will； sir；' Sharpe said。
'Maybe。' The Colonel smiled at Sharpe's serene confidence。 'But the Tippoo might decide to kill us first。' McCandless fell silent for a while； then shook his head。 'I wish I understood the Tippoo。'
'Nothing to understand； sir。 He's just an evil bastard； sir。'
'No； he's not that；' the Colonel said severely。 'He's actually rather a good ruler。 Better； I suspect； than most of our Christian monarchs。 He's certainly been good for Mysore。 He's fetched it a deal of wealth； given it more justice than most countries enjoy in India and he's been tolerant to most religions； though I fear he did persecute some unfortunate Christians。' The Colonel grimaced as a shudder racked his body。 'He's even kept the Rajah and his family alive； not in fort； but alive； and that's more than most monarchs would ever do。 Most usurpers kill their country's old ruler； but not here。 I can't forgive him for what he did to those poor prisoners of ours； of course； but I suppose some capricious cruelty is probably necessary in a ruler。 All in all； I think； and judging him by the standards of our own monarchy； we should have to give the Tippoo fairly high marks。'
'So why the hell are we fighting him； sir？'
McCandless smiled。 'Because we want to be here； and he doesn't want us to be here。 Two dogs in a small cage； Sharpe。 And if he beats us out of Mysore he'll bring in the French to chase us out of the rest of India and then we can bid farewell to the best part of our eastern trade。 That's what it's about； Sharpe； trade。 That's why you're fighting here； trade。'Sharpe grimaced。 'It seems a funny thing to be fighting about； sir。'
'Does it？' McCandless seemed surprised。 'Not to me； Sharpe。 Without trade there's no wealth； and without wealth there's no society worth having。 Without trade； Private Sharpe； we'd be nothing but beasts in the mud。 Trade is indeed worth fighting for； though the good Lord knows we don't appreciate trade much。 We celebrate kings； we honour great men； we admire aristocrats； we applaud actors； we shower gold on portrait painters and we even； sometimes； reward soldiers； but we always despise merchants。 But why？ It's the merchant's wealth that drives the mills； Sharpe； it moves the looms； it keeps the hammers falling； it fills the fleets； it makes the roads； it forges the iron； it grows the wheat； it bakes the bread and it builds the churches and the cottages and the palaces。 Without God and trade we would be nothing。'
Sharpe laughed softly。 'Trade never did 'owt for me； sir。'
'Did it not？' McCandless asked gently。 The Colonel smiled。 'So what do you think is worth fighting for； Private？'
'Friends； sir。 And pride。 We have to show that we're better bastards than the other side。'
'You don't fight for King or country？'
T've never met the King； sir。 Never even seen him。'
'He's not much to look at； but he's a decent enough man when he's not mad。' McCandless stared across at Hakeswill。 'Is he mad？'
'I think so； sir。'
'Poor soul。'
'He's evil； too；' Sharpe said； speaking too softly for Hakeswill to hear him。 'Takes a joy； sir； in having men punished。 He thieves； he lies； he rapes； he murders。'
'And you've done none of those things？'
'Never raped； sir； and as for the others； only when I had to。''Then I pray God you'll never have to again；' McCandless said fervently； and with that he leaned his grey head against the wall and tried to sleep。
Sharpe watched the dawn light seep into the dungeon pit。 The last bats of the night wheeled in the patch of sky above； but soon they were gone and the first gun of the day spoke。 It was clearing its throat； as the gunners liked to say； for the city and its besiegers were waking and the fight would go on。
The opening shot of the day was aimed at the low mud wall that plugged the gap in the glacis and kept the water dam