The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 01Bierce, Ambrose
General
The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 01
Bierce, Ambrose
Fiction
Getting my bearings again with some difficulty, I now made a wide detour
to the left, in the hope of passing around this outpost and striking the
river beyond. In this mad attempt I ran upon a more vigilant sentinel,
posted in the heart of a thicket, who fired at me without challenge. To a
soldier an unexpected shot ringing out at dead of night is fraught with an
awful significance. In my circumstances--cut off from my comrades, groping
about an unknown country, surrounded by invisible perils which such a
signal would call into eager activity--the flash and shock of that firearm
were unspeakably dreadful! In any case I should and ought to have fled,
and did so; but how much or little of conscious prudence there was in the
prompting I do not care to discover by analysis of memory. I went back
into the corn, found the river, followed it back a long way and mounted
into the fork of a low tree. There I perched until the dawn, a most
uncomfortable bird.
In the gray light of the morning I discovered that I was opposite an
island of considerable length, separated from the mainland by a narrow and
shallow channel, which I promptly waded. The island was low and flat,
covered with an almost impenetrable cane-brake interlaced with vines.
Working my way through these to the other side, I obtained another look at
God's country--Shermany, so to speak. There were no visible inhabitants.
The forest and the water met. This did not deter me. For the chill of the
water I had no further care, and laying off my boots and outer clothing I
prepared to swim. A strange thing now occurred--more accurately, a
familiar thing occurred at a strange moment. A black cloud seemed to pass
before my eyes--the water, the trees, the sky, all vanished in a profound
darkness. I heard the roaring of a great cataract, felt the earth sinking
from beneath my feet. Then I heard and felt no more.
At the battle of Kennesaw Mountain in the previous June I had been badly
wounded in the head, and for three months was incapacitated for service.
In truth, I had done no actual duty since, being then, as for many years
afterward, subject to fits of fainting, sometimes without assignable
immediate cause, but mostly when suffering from exposure, excitement or
excessive fatigue. This combination of them all had broken me down--most
opportunely, it would seem.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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