Tales and Novels — Volume 02: Popular TalesEdgeworth, Maria
General
Tales and Novels — Volume 02: Popular Tales
Edgeworth, Maria
Fiction
“During that day, when my fever was at the height, and when my orders
were to keep my bed, contrary to my natural habits of indolence, I rose
a hundred times, and went out of my tent in the very heat of the day,
to satisfy my curiosity as to the number of the tents which had not been
struck, and of the soldiers who had not yet marched. The orders to march
were tardily obeyed, and many hours elapsed before our encampment was
raised. Had I submitted to my surgeon’s orders, I might have been in
a state to accompany the most dilatory of the stragglers; I could have
borne, perhaps, the slow motion of a litter, on which some of the sick
were transported; but in the evening, when the surgeon came to dress my
wounds, he found me in such a situation that it was scarcely possible to
remove me.
“He desired a party of soldiers, who were left to bring up the rear,
to call for me the next morning. They did so; but they wanted to put me
upon the mule which I recollected, by a white streak on its back, to be
the cursed animal that had kicked me, whilst I was looking for the ring.
I could not be prevailed upon to go upon this unlucky animal. I tried to
persuade the soldiers to carry me, and they took me a little way; but,
soon growing weary of their burden, they laid me down on the sand,
pretending that they were going to fill a skin with water at a spring
they had discovered, and bade me lie still, and wait for their return.
“I waited and waited, longing for the water to moisten my parched lips;
but, no water came--no soldiers returned; and there I lay, for several
hours, expecting every moment to breathe my last. I made no effort to
move, for I was now convinced my hour was come; and that it was the
will of Mahomet that I should perish in this miserable manner, and lie
unburied like a dog; a death, thought I, worthy of Murad the Unlucky.
“My forebodings were not this time just; a detachment of English
soldiers passed near the place where I lay: my groans were heard by
them, and they humanely came to my assistance. They carried me with
them, dressed my wound, and treated me with the utmost tenderness.
Christians though they were, I must acknowledge that I had reason to
love them better than any of the followers of Mahomet, my good brother
only excepted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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