Bernard Cornwell – The Bloody Ground (страница 19)

“I’m coming with you,” Martha insisted. For all her timidity she was a dogged girl and no amount of Starbuck’s persuasion could convince her to abandon the search.

“Ma’am, it ain’t safe in the Hells.”

“But he might be injured.”

He might be dead, Starbuck thought. “I must insist, ma’am.”

“You can insist all you want, sir,” Martha said stubbornly, “but I’m still coming. I’ll just follow you if you won’t escort me.”

Starbuck took out his revolver and checked that all five cones were primed with percussion caps. “Ma’am,” he said, “where I’m going ain’t called the Hells for nothing. It’s in Screamersville, down by Penitentiary Bottom. Ugly names, ma’am, ugly place. Even the provosts don’t go there under company strength.”

Martha frowned. “They outlaws there?” she asked.

“In a manner, ma’am. Some deserters, a lot of thieves, and a lot of slaves. Only these slaves aren’t under orders, ma’am, they’re out of the Tredegar Iron Works and they’re tougher than the stuff they roll in the mills.”

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