The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — CompleteRichardson, Major (John)
History
The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Complete
Richardson, Major (John)
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction; War stories
"It is proverbial," continued Grantham, "that listeners
never hear any good of themselves. I paid the common
penalty. But if I continued calm, my companion did not.
Partly incensed at what had related to me--but more
infuriated at the declaration made by the son, that he
had paddled several times round the gun boat, without a
soul being on deck to see him, he drew near to me, his
white teeth displaying themselves in the gloom, as he
whispered, but in a tone that betrayed extreme irritation.
"'What a dam Yankee liar rascal, Massa Geral. He nebber
go round: I see him come a down a ribber long afore he
see a boat at all.'
"'Hush Sambo--hush not a word,' I returned in the same
low whisper. "The villains are at some treason, and if
we stir, we shall lose all chance of discovering it."
"'Me no peak Massa Geral; but dam him lyin' teef,' he
continued to mutter, 'I wish I had him board a gun boat.'
"'A dozen fellors well armed, might take the d----d
British craft,' observed Desborough. 'How many men may
there be aboard the Commissary.'
"'About forty, I reckon, under some d----d old rig'lar
Major. I've got a letter for him here to desire him to
come on, if so be as we gets the craft out of the way.'
"'Drot me if I know a better way than to jump slick aboard
her,' returned Desborough musingly; 'forty genuine
Kaintucks ought to swallow her up, crew and all.'
"'I guess they would,' returned his companion, 'but they
are not Kaintucks, but only rig'lars; and then agin if
they are discovered one spry cannon shot might sink her;
and if the eagles go to the bottom, we shall lose our
fiftieth. You don't reckon that."
"'What the hell's to be done then,' exclaimed Desborough,
resorting to his favorite oath when in doubt.
"'My plan's already cut and dried by a wiser head nor
yours nor mine, as you shall larn; but first let a fellor
wet his whistle.' Here they both drained off another
portion of the poison that stood before them.
"Not to tire you," pursued Grantham, "with a repetition
of the oaths and vulgar and interjectional chucklings
that passed between the well assorted pair, during the
disclosure of the younger, I will briefly state that it
was one of the most stupid that could have been conceived,
and reflected but little credit on the stratagetic powers
of whoever originated it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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