Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil BlasLever, Charles
General
Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- Fiction
Objurgations, entreaties, prayers, curses, menaces, were all in vain,--a
step farther they would not budge. All that the Spanish contained of
guttural was hurled at them without success; the cow-hide whip might
welt their flanks and leave great ridges at every stroke, the huge
pole of the Mexican might belabor them, with a running accompaniment of
kicks, but to no purpose. They cared as little for the cow-hide as the
"calendar;" neither saints nor thrashings could persuade them to move
on. Saint Anthony and Saint Ursula, Saint Forimund of Cordova, with
various others, were invoked, to no end. Saint Clement of Capua, to whom
all poisonous reptiles, from boas to whip-snakes, owe allegiance, was
called upon to aid the travellers; but the quadrupeds took no heed of
these entreaties, but showed a most Protestant contempt for the whole
litany.
There was a pause; wearied with flogging, and tired out with vain
exhortations, both Friar and Mexican, ceased, and as if in compensation
to their long pent-up feelings, vented their anger in a very guttural
round of maledictions upon the whole animal creation, and in particular
on that part of it who would not be eaten by alligators without signs
of resistance and opposition. Whether this new turn of events had any
influence, or that the matter was more owing to "natural causes," I
cannot say; but, just then, the horse which had been already bitten,
reared straight up, and with a loud snort plunged forward, carrying with
him the other. By his plunge he had reached a deep part of the stream,
where the water came half way up his body. Another spring smashed one of
the traces, and left him free to kick violently behind him,--a privilege
he certainly hastened to avail himself of. His fellow, whether from
sympathy or not, imitated the performance; and there they were, lashing
and plunging with all their might, while the wagon, against which the
strong current beat in all its force, threatened at every instant
to capsize. The Friar struggled manfully, as did his follower; but,
unfortunately, one of the reins gave way, and by the violent tugging
at the remaining one, the animals were turned out of their course, and
dragged round to the very middle of the stream. About twenty yards lower
down, the river fell by a kind of cascade some ten or twelve feet, and
towards this spot now the infuriated horses seemed rushing. Had it been
practicable, a strong man might, by throwing himself into the water,
have caught the horses' heads and held them back; but the stream swarmed
with poisonous reptiles, which made such an effort almost inevitable
death.
It was now a scene of terrible and most exciting interest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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