United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
And yet the sergeant was not ill-natured--until you happened to cross
him, when his temper became damnable--but merely a big, vain,
boisterous lout. John, having taken his measure, found it easy to
study him philosophically and even to be passably amused by him.
But he made himself, it must be owned, an affliction; and an
affliction against which, since the boats had parted company, there
was no redress. He was conceited, selfish, tyrannical, and
inordinately lazy. He never took a hand with the paddle, but would
compel the others to work, or to idle, as the freak took him.
He docked the crew's allowance but fed himself complacently on more
than full rations, proving this to be his due by discourse on the
innate superiority of Frenchmen over Canadians, Englishmen or
Indians. He would sit by the hour bragging of his skill with the
gun, his victories in love, his feats of strength--baring his
chest, arms, legs, and inviting the company to admire his muscles.
He jested from sunrise until sundown, and never made a jest that did
not hurt. Worst of all was it when he schooled le Chameau to sing
his obscenities after him, line for line.
"No, no, I beg you, monsieur," the little fellow would protest,
"c'est--c'est sale!"--and would blush like a girl.
"_Sale_, you dog? I'll teach you--" A blow would follow.
M. Barboux was getting liberal with his blows. Once he struck
Muskingon. Menehwehna growled ominously, and the growl seemed to
warn not only Barboux but Muskingon, who for the moment had looked
murderous.
John guessed that some tie, if not of blood-relationship, at least of
strong affection, bound the two Indians together.
For himself, as soon as his wound allowed him to sit upright, which
it did on the second day--the bullet having glanced across his ribs
and left but its ugly track in the thin flesh covering them--the
monotony of the woods and the ceaseless glint of the water were a
drug which he could summon at will and so withdraw himself within a
stupor untroubled by Barboux or his boastings. He suffered the man,
but saw no necessity for heeding him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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