Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction; War stories
He judged it prudent to leave the archway with a bound which would get
him well clear of the tower, and on alighting faced about quickly. He
heard an exclamation but he saw no one. They had bolted! He would have
laughed had he not been startled himself by a shot fired somewhere in
the distance behind his back--the most brutally impressive sound that
can break the silence of the night. Instantly, as if it had been a
signal, a lot of shouting broke on his ear, yells of warning and
encouragement, a savage clamour which made him think of a lot of people
pursuing a mad dog. He advanced, however, in the direction of the
portico, wishing himself out of the way of this odious commotion, when
the flash of a musket shot showed him for a moment the tilted head in a
shako and the white cross-belts of an Austrian soldier standing erect in
the middle of the open ground. Cosmo stopped short, then inclined to the
left, moving cautiously and staring into the darkness. The yelling had
died out gradually away from the seashore, where he remembered a cluster
of the poorer sort of houses nestled under the cliffs. He could not
believe that the shot could have been fired at him, till another flash
and report of a musket followed by the whizz of the bullet very near his
hand persuaded him to the contrary. Thinking of nothing but getting out
of the line of fire, he stooped low and ran on blindly till his shoulder
came in contact with some obstacle extremely hard and perfectly
immovable.
He put his hand on it, felt it rough and cold, and discovered it was a
stone, an enormous square block such as are used in building
breakwaters. Several others were lying about in a cluster like a
miniature village on a miniature plain. He crept amongst them, spread
his cloak on the ground, and sat down with his back against one of the
blocks. He wondered at the marvellous eyesight of that confounded
soldier. He was not aware that his dark figure had the starry sky for a
background. "He nearly had me," he thought. His whole being recoiled
with disgust from the risk of getting a musket ball through his body. He
resolved to remain where he was till all that incomprehensible
excitement had quietened down and that brute with wonderful powers of
vision had gone away. Then his road would be clear. He would give him
plenty of time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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