A Soldier of the Legion: An Englishman's Adventures Under the French Flag in Algeria and TonquinManington, George
History
A Soldier of the Legion: An Englishman's Adventures Under the French Flag in Algeria and Tonquin
Manington, George
Algeria -- History; France. Armée. Légion étrangère; Vietnam, Northern -- History
By looking through the foliage before us, we could now see in the
yet dim light that we were close to a pond or moat, covered with
rank duck-weed and lotus plants. On the other side of this was a big
village, surrounded by the usual embankment and bamboo hedge. Presently
we could hear the crowing of cocks, barking of dogs, and other sounds
of awakening life.
The pond was crossed by a dyke about 6 feet wide, forming a path
leading to the heavy gateway of the hamlet. This was yet closed.
By this time the eastern sky was a bright red violet, and against it
the great leaves of the plantains, the spiky foliage of the macaw
palms, and the delicate leafage of the bamboo seemed to be cut out of
tinfoil, reminding me of a tropical scene from a drama staged in one of
our large London theatres. The birds were out: troops of white-breasted
jays scurried from tree to tree, with an uncouth cry; sparrows darted
about with an endless twittering; and several carrion-crows started
a concert among the areca palms inside the village. Suddenly on the
horizon there was a glitter, and a convex curve of fire appeared. The
mighty ball of the blinding sun rose inch by inch from the rice fields,
the wet surface reflecting its light with dazzling vividness.
It was already hot, and our sodden linen grew stiffer and drier each
instant.
All attention was now turned to the village, and behind the gate came
the noise of withdrawal of bolts and bars. The heavy ironwood portals
swung open, and out stepped a water-buffalo, on whose back straddled
a naked youngster, gripping tightly a cord attached to the iron ring
in the animal's nostrils. Just outside the unwieldy beast halted
its big head, and, throwing its great horns right back, sniffed the
air. Its eyes seemed turned towards our hiding-place. But there were
others behind who were impatient to get out, and a native woman darted
forward, and beat the beast's buttocks with a hoe. The boy on his back,
unconscious of the danger in front, drummed his little heels on the
black, hairless sides, and the animal moved slowly and reluctantly
forward.
One, two, three of the beasts stepped out; a fourth was already in the
doorway, when suddenly came the shrill order from the whistle.
In an instant we were up and racing like madmen for the causeway,
almost before the natives with their cattle had realised what had
happened.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account