Richard Judkins' Wooing: A Tale of Virginia in the Revolution — John Shaqi
Richard Judkins' Wooing: A Tale of Virginia in the RevolutionHains, T. Jenkins (Thornton Jenkins)
History
Richard Judkins' Wooing: A Tale of Virginia in the Revolution
Hains, T. Jenkins (Thornton Jenkins)
Historical fiction; Virginia -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
While we worked to stanch Harrison's wound and revive him, the Major
walked off a short distance and sat himself on the edge of the low,
bluff-like bank beneath a willow. He then carefully stripped off his new
uniform before Barron or Byrd thought of leaving Harrison to come to his
assistance, tied up the rapier thrust, and prepared to move along in the
direction of the Hall with his sword belt slung carelessly over his arm.
When Harrison's wandering gaze met him his strength came back suddenly,
and it was all Barron and I could do to hold him in check. He insisted
that he should continue the engagement and Byrd's outspoken objections
only inflamed him the more.
The Major suddenly glanced back and saw what had happened, so he halted
while Phripps ran toward him.
"The affair is not quite over, if you please, sir," said Phripps as he
approached.
"Isn't, eh!" grunted Bullbeggor, drawing his sword and throwing the
scabbard aside. "Then if you can prove that your gentility consists in
something more than a love for horses and dogs--and women, you can get
your hand to some weapon." And with that he came quickly forward.
"After Mr. Harrison has finished with you, we can go further into the
matter with some advantage," said the second, motioning with his hand
towards his principal.
But Harrison's strength was unequal to the occasion. He no sooner stood
alone than he wavered, staggered, and then pitched forward on his face
in a dead faint. Phripps quickly ran to him and raised his head while I
poured some brandy between his lips.
The Major stood silent and motionless before the group, his sword point
resting upon the toe of his boot and his hands crossed over the hilt. A
strangely grave and thoughtful expression shone on his rugged face, now
perfectly calm from the heat and excitement of the fray; and as I
watched him he appeared to me a poor duellist, and a man to whom self
was not the all important realization in life.
I went toward him and held out my hand. He took it in an absent minded
way and turned at the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. I
looked over his shoulder just as Snake broke through the fringe of
willows, leading the Major's mare by the bridle.
"I suppose he isn't hurt badly, Mr. Judkins," said Bullbeggor, looking
at his limp adversary. "But even if he is, I don't believe I can do much
for him. I thank you, sir, for your hospitality and fairness. I must go
along now, for I'm due at Williamsburg before night."
"You certainly will come back to the Hall and let us fix you up a
little, Major. You certainly must feel a little shaken from that
puncture. It may be more dangerous than you believe," I said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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