The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1Richardson, Major (John)
History
The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1
Richardson, Major (John)
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction; War stories
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 coarse 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 buccaneers.
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, "Husha,
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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