"Don't have much work to do, sir, " Sharpe said, wishing he did not sound so surly.

"Don't suppose you do, " Urquhart said slowly.

"I do see your meaning.

Indeed I do." He shuffled his feet in the dust.

"Company runs itself, I suppose. Colquhoun's a good fellow, and Sergeant Craig's showing well, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir." Sharpe knew he did not need to call Urquhart 'sir' all the time, but old habits died hard.

"They're both good Calvinists, you see, " Urquhart said.

"Makes 'em trustworthy."

"Yes, sir, " Sharpe said. He was not exactly sure what a Calvinist was, and he was not going to ask. Maybe it was the same as a freemason, and there were plenty of those in the 74th's mess, though Sharpe again did not really know what they were. He just knew he was not one of them.

"Thing is, Sharpe, " Urquhart went on, though he did not look at Sharpe as he spoke, 'you're sitting on a fortune, if you follow me."

"A fortune, sir?" Sharpe asked with some alarm. Had Urquhart somehow smelt out Sharpe's hoard of emeralds, rubies, diamonds and sapphires?

"You're an ensign, " Urquhart explained, 'and if you ain't happy you can always sell your commission. Plenty of fine fellows in Scotland who'll pay you forA the rank. Even some fellows here. I gather the Scotch Brigade has some gentlemen rankers."

So Urquhart was not nervous about the coming fight, but rather about Sharpe's reaction to this conversation. The Captain wanted to be rid of Sharpe, and the realization made Sharpe even more awkward. He had wanted to be made an officer so badly, and already he wished he had never dreamed of the promotion. What had he expected? To be slapped on the back and welcomed like a long-lost brother? To be given a company of troops? Urquhart was watching him expectantly, waiting for a response, but Sharpe said nothing.