Sharpe's Challenge

(COW MOOING)

Troops approaching. Open the gate.

All right, lads, fall out.

-Davi, get some grub going.

-Yes.

Master Richard sahib.

I have to tell you that we have no grub.

We haven't, no. But they have.

That would be stealing, sahib.

How am I to be a good British soldier

if you make me into a thief again?

It isn't thieving when you're hungry, Davi.

First thing any soldier learns.

Now go on, get on with you.

Davi, mind you watch

the eleventh commandment.

Yes, sahib.

You there!

(STAMMERING) Yes, yes, you fellow.

I don't know how they do things

in the King's Army

but here in the East India Company,

it's customary to report to the officer of the day.

Sergeant Sharpe. King's 33rd force, sir.

Reporting from Srirangapattam.

Orders for Major Crosby, sir.

You're here for the cartridges we recovered.

Yes, sir. 80,000, sir.

For the armoury at Srirangapattam.

Srirangapattam's...

six days' march.

How the devil

do you expect to transport 80,000 cartridges?

-On your back?

-Bullock, sir.

Ox carts, sir.

Which you mean to hire with what? Promises?

Hire them with money, sir.

Oh.

Speak the language, too, do you?

Sergeant, banker and interpreter.

I brought an interpreter, sir.

Did you? Did you?

Every inch the Crown soldier.

Go and find your damn carts, Sergeant Sharpe.

Let me know when you're ready to load.

Thank you, sir.

MAN:
Pass me some meat.

CROSBY:
Sergeant Sharpe!

Hop to, lads. On your feet.

I thought you were about finding carts, Sergeant.

Grub first, sir.

Well, your food, I hope.

Chasalgaon's an East India Company station.

We don't keep rations

to feed the King's troops here.

Oh, yes, sir. Our food, sir.

Carried it with us all the way, sir.

Company troops approaching, sahib.

Well, who the hell is it?

Not sure, sir.

Sullivan, perhaps. Breaking in a new company.

I've never met Sullivan, sir.

Subedar! Call out the guard.

Better give the bastard a salute when he arrives.

Tell him he can join me for dinner.

-You too, I suppose.

-Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Welcome to Chasalgaon, sir.

Major Crosby's compliments

and you're invited to dine with him, sir.

Squad, attention.

Present arms!

-Is that stew about ready yet?

-In a jiffy.

A bloody camel could do it faster.

I'm going for a piss.

Front face!

Order arms!

Should I have your horse watered, sir?

All in good time, Captain. All in good time.

Fix bayonet!

I like to give a fellow Englishman a proper salute.

You are English, aren't you?

-Yes, sir. From Norfolk, sir.

-Good.

Too many damn Scots in the Company these days.

Have you noticed that?

Too many Scots and Irish.

Glib sorts of fellow they are.

Then they aren't English, are they?

Not English at all.

Present!

Oh, my God.

Come on, boys.

Fire!

Christ all-bloody-mighty.

There! There!

What's the matter, Captain?

Cat got your t-t-tongue?

(MAN SCREAMING IN HINDI)

King's men, to me!

Well left!

Well left, Captain...

(MAN SPEAKING IN HINDI)

DAVI:
Richard sahib!

Who the devil are you?

Major William Dodd...

at your service.

Subedar!

(SCREAMING)

Two good men to guard the pay chest

if you please.

(AGREEING IN HINDI)

(SCREAMING)

Major Dodd, sir. Everything is loaded, sir.

-And the enemy?

-All dead, sir.

Not quite all, subedar.

(GRUNTING)

(GROANING)

(CLASSICAL HINDU

INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)

Chasalgaon has fallen, Your Highness.

We left not a man alive.

-Colonel Richard Sharpe, late of the South Essex?

-Mmm-hmm.

Sir Samuel Rawlinson,

President of the Board of Control.

I'm told you've a talent

for bruising your betters, Sharpe.

Saving the man I've come to see,

and a certain Irish sergeant of my acquaintance,

have done such.

Now, will you take me to Wellington

or shall I dig the bugger out myself?

Splendid.

Splendid. This way.

(CLEARING THROAT)

What's this nonsense I hear?

You've turned swords to ploughshares

and become a farmer in France?

Aye. It's true enough, Your Grace.

Suits you, this life?

Well, no bugger's trying to shoot me

the livelong day so, aye, suits me.

I imagine the recent strictures placed upon you

by the late Corn Bill must prove inconvenient.

And I imagine Your Lordship didn't bring me

all this way to discuss the price of grain.

There is a young tiger loose in India, Sharpe.

A Maratha princeling with a heart for rebellion

and a taste for English blood.

I thought we'd put an end to any threat

from the Marathas in '03.

So had we all. Divide and rule.

Simple enough policy,

but one that has served us well.

While the Maratha princes fight and squabble

amongst themselves, the Company prospers.

Should they unite

behind a common leader however...

Who is he?

Khande Rao, the Rajah of Ferraghur.

I should hardly call him common, Rawlinson.

Since he came to power, attacks on our forts

and hill stations have increased tenfold.

And with each success,

more Pindari bandits come to his side.

How come this man has succeeded

where many others have failed?

Though Khande Rao

ascended his father's throne last summer,

he's not yet in his majority.

It seems the late rajah's favourite concubine

is ruling as regent.

-A woman?

-Just so.

Albeit one acting under advice and guidance

of a renegade East India Company officer.

Our intelligence officer in Agra

recruited a horse master

supplying the Company with mounts

to discover the renegade's identity.

Alas, nothing's been seen or heard of the fellow

this past six months.

We need someone who knows the country

to determine what's become of him.

And, if the worst has befallen,

to see his mission through.

You want me to go back to India?

This uprising must be stopped, Sharpe,

by whatever means.

One resourceful man may achieve

what an army cannot.

Your Grace, my soldiering days came to an end

on the ridge of Mont St John.

I am grateful of the opinion

in which you hold me

but a man's luck only holds so long.

Damn it, Sharpe. The rat is in the bottle.

No one else will do.

India is a very tinderbox

that waits upon the merest spark.

Should Khande Rao's resistance prove successful,

our days as the dominant power

in that country would be numbered.

That may be so, my lord.

But what happens in India is the business

of men of influence and great import

and not of a farmer.

I regret I must respectfully decline.

That is your last word?

I'm sorry I cannot prevail upon you

to change your mind, Colonel.

Mrs Harper, my apologies

for having kept you waiting.

-Ramona.

-Richard, thank God.

An acquaintance of yours, Sharpe?

A good friend.

Mrs Harper's husband

is the Irish sergeant of whom I spoke.

What are you doing here, lass?

Is Patrick with you?

Alas, Sharpe,

Mrs Harper's husband is also our missing agent.

You're Patrick's only hope.

You will find him, won't you, Richard?

(CAMELS BRAYING)

(CHATTERING IN HINDI)

I'm assured we'll be on our way again

presently, ma'am.

It's a poor bloody spot for a tea party, Captain.

Bandit country.

And not one picquet posted along the track.

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