Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and LaswareeBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Maratha War, 1803 -- Juvenile fiction
Owen happened to have a spirit-flask with him, and he dragged this out
of his pocket. Then, having forced a few drops between the pallid lips
of his friend, he helped the native to bandage up the wound in the head.
And very soon afterwards Jack opened his eyes, shivered violently, and
closed them once again. When he looked about him once more it was with
the utmost amazement, while his lips framed the questions which as yet
he was too weak to ask.
"It's all right, old fellow," said Owen quietly. "You're up a
tree--literally up a tree, I can tell you; but there is absolutely no
more to fear. The beast that charged at you is dead, and has made a fine
addition to our bag."
That brought his friend into a sitting position, but as he looked down
at the ground some yards beneath, and at the animals which still
remained at the foot of the tree, the height perhaps, the sight of these
fierce beasts and the memory of their attack, and more than all, the
blow which he had received, turned him dizzy and sick, and for a time he
suffered from horrible nausea. However, within a quarter of an hour he
was better and taking an intelligent interest in his surroundings.
"My word, my head does ache!" he groaned. "It feels like a pumpkin
and--hullo! what's this?"
"My handkerchief. You bumped your head against that stone over there and
the blow knocked you silly. And a good thing too, Jack, or else I fancy
you would not be here. Had you tried to rise, and lifted yourself from
the ground at all, that ugly beast would have had you. As it was you
went down so suddenly and completely that he missed you, and went with a
rush clear over your body."
It was news to Jack, and now that the nausea had left him, and he could
look down without feeling giddy, he stared at the unwieldy carcass of
the rhinoceros thoughtfully, and then at the others, now engaged in
sniffing about their fallen comrade.
"A fine mess he would have made of me," he said at length. "I suppose a
brute like that would kill you if he trampled over you. And look at his
wicked horns! He has two, and either would be sufficient to gore one to
death. How did it happen, Owen? I mean, what kept the beast from
returning in time? You see, I was down there. I'm up here now, and the
brute is dead. How did you manage it all?"
"I will answer, if the sahib will permit," said Mulha. "This is what
occurred, for I watched all that happened. You owe your life to the
sahib here."
Very quietly and accurately he described all that had occurred, showing
how Owen had fired at the beast, and had then given orders to Mulha to
carry his friend to safety. And afterwards how he had stood and killed
the rhinoceros. Jack listened to the tale thoughtfully, and looked down
at the beasts below. He was a youth possessed of fine spirit, and a most
unselfish fellow, and it was clear that his gratitude was too great for
words. He turned his head away and felt for Owen's hand. Then he gave it
a squeeze.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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