Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy FulfilledRichardson, Major (John)
History
Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled
Richardson, Major (John)
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction
The several officers commanding batteries were now met in that of the
young sailor, and, habited in a garb befitting the rude duty at which
they had presided, were earnestly engaged in discussing the contents of
their haversacks, moistened by occasional drafts of rum and water from
their wooden canteens, and seasoned with frequent reference to the
events of the past day, and anticipations of what the morrow would bring
forth. A lantern, so closed as to prevent all possibility of contact
with the powder that lay strewed about, was placed in the centre of the
circle, and the dim reflexion from this upon the unwashed hands and
faces of the party, begrimed as they were with powder and perspiration,
contributed to give an air of wildness to the whole scene, that found
its origin in the peculiar circumstances of the moment. Nor was the
picture at all lessened in ferocity of effect, by the figure of Sambo in
the back ground, who, dividing his time between the performances of such
offices as his young master demanded, in the course of the frugal meal
of the party, and a most assiduous application of his own white and
shining teeth to a huge piece of venison ham, might, without effort,
have called up the image of some lawless, yet obedient slave, attending
on and sharing in the orgies of a company of buccaniers.
At length the meal was ended, and each was preparing to depart, with a
view to snatch an hour or two of rest in his own battery, when the
pricked ear and forward-thrown head of the old negro, accompanied by a
quick, "Hush, Massa Geral," stilled them all into attitudes of
expectancy. Presently the sound of muffled oars was heard, and then the
harsh grating, as of a boat's keel upon the sands.
In the next minute the officers were at their posts; but before they
could succeed in awakening their jaded men, who seemed to sleep the
sleep of death, the sentinel at the first battery had received, in
answer to his hurried challenge, the proper countersign, and, as on
closer inspection it was found that there was only one boat, he knew it
must be their own, and the alarm which had seized them for the security
of their trust passed away.
They were not long kept in suspense. One individual alone had ascended
from the beach, and now stood among them, habited in a dread-nought
jacket and trousers and round hat. His salutation to each was cordial,
and he expressed in warm terms the approbation he felt at the
indefatigable and efficient manner in which the duty assigned to each
had been conducted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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