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
Half throttled, maddened with pain, and even more bitterly stung by a
sense of the humiliating position in which he found himself, the
feelings of Gerald became uncontrollable, until his anxiety to inflict a
mortal injury upon his enemy became in the end as intense as that of the
settler. In their fall the table had been overturned, and with it the
knife which Desborough had used with his horrid repast. As the light
from the blazing fire fell upon the blade, it had once caught the
unassailed eye of the officer, and was the next moment clutched in his
grasp. He raised it with a determination, inspired by the agony he
endured, at once to liberate himself and to avenge his father's murder,
but the idea that there was something assassin-like in the act as
suddenly arrested him, and ere he had time to obey a fresh impulse of
his agony, the knife was forcibly stricken from his hand. A laugh of
triumph burst from the lips of the half intoxicated Desborough, but it
was scarcely uttered before it was succeeded by a yell of pain, and the
hand that had contrived to entwine itself, with resistless force and
terrible intent, in the waving hair of the youth, fell suddenly from its
grasp, enabling its victim at length to free himself altogether and
start once more to his feet.
Little more than a minute had been passed in the enactment of this
strange scene. The collision, the overthrow, the upraising of the knife
had followed each other in such rapid succession that, until the last
desperate intention of Gerald was formed, the Aid-de-camp had not had
time to interpose himself in any way between the enraged combatants. His
first action had been to strike away the murderous knife with the heavy
butt of one of his pistols, the other to plant such a blow upon the
"gouging" hand of the settler from the same butt, as effectually to
compel him to relinquish his ferocious clutch. In both objects, as we
have seen, he fully succeeded.
But although his right hand had been utterly disabled by the blow from
Jackson's pistol, the fury of Desborough, fed as it was by the fumes of
the liquor he had swallowed, was too great to render him heedful of
aught but the gratification of his vengeance. Rolling rapidly over to
the point where the knife had fallen he secured it in his left hand, and
then, leaping nimbly to his feet, gathered himself into a spring upon
his unarmed but watchful enemy. But before the bound could be taken, the
active Aid-de-camp, covering Gerald with his body and presenting a
cocked pistol, had again thwarted him in his intention.
"I say now, old cock, you'd much better be quiet I guess, for them sort
of tantrums won't suit me. If this here Liftenant killed your son why
he'll answer for it later, but I can't let you murder my prisoner in
that flumgustious manner. I'm responsible for him to the United States
Government, therefore just drop that knife clean and slick upon the
floor, and let's have no more of this nonsense for the night."
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