A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British NavyCollingwood, Harry
General
A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British Navy
Collingwood, Harry
Great Britain -- Fiction; Pirates -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
A period of suspense lasting nearly ten minutes now ensued, at the end
of which a whistle sounded shrilly from somewhere, and at the sound of
it the whole band of outlaws, numbering somewhere about four hundred,
suddenly broke cover and, with a yell, came charging down upon all sides
of the house, firing as they ran. Their aim was not bad, considering
that none of them paused to bring their pieces up to the shoulder, but
just pointed the weapon in the direction of the house and pulled the
trigger while still on the run. But although we heard several of the
bullets strike the walls and roof, not one came through our loopholes,
or penetrated to the interior of the house, and none of us were hit.
The next second an irregular, straggling sort of volley rattled out from
the house by way of reply; but I could not see that anybody was a penny
the worse for it, at least on that side of the house where I was
stationed. So far as I was concerned, I had not attempted to fire,
having made up my mind that I would not pull trigger during the fight
until I could be certain of making a hit; but the negro who had been
told off to help in the defence of the window at which I was stationed
had simply thrust his musket through his loophole and blazed away,
apparently without taking the trouble even to sight along the barrel.
"My friend," I said, digging him savagely in the ribs, "which of those
fellows was it that you aimed at?"
"Which of them, Senor?" he echoed in astonishment. "I did not aim at
any one in particular; I simply fired my piece, believing that the
bullet would be certain to hit some one."
"Just so," I retorted. "Well, that is not at all the way to win a
fight, for, you see, your bullet has hit no one. Next time you shoot,
aim straight at some particular individual, and make sure that your gun
is pointing straight before you pull the trigger. For example--you see
that big man running straight toward us, the man with the scythe on the
end of a pole? Well, keep your eye on him for a moment, and see what
happens."
The man in question was coming straight for our window, with the
intention, probably, of attempting to dislodge some of the sand-bags and
force his way into the house. He was only about ten yards away when,
having carefully covered his chest with my two sights, I gently pressed
the trigger. When the smoke blew away the fellow was lying motionless
upon his face, and some twenty others who had been following him had
come to an abrupt halt, and were gazing with indecision, first at the
house and next at him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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