Adventure stories; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Irish -- England -- Fiction
action entirely unconscious on his part, just like winking your eye or
drawing your breath; yet I have seen men run through the body who kept
sword in hand and made a beautiful lunge with it even as they
staggered across the threshold of death's door.
Now I had no desire for any of these men's lives, but I determined to
have their swords. I glittered my own shining blade before their eyes,
flourishing a semicircle with it, and making it dart here and there
like the tongue of an angry snake; and instantly every man in front of
me felt uncomfortable, not knowing where the snake was going to sting,
and then, as I said before, they were fighting for money and not for
honour. When I had dazzled their eyes for a moment with this
sword-play and bewildered their dull brains, I suddenly changed my
tactics and thrust forward quicker than you can count one, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight,--and each man was holding a bleeding
fist to his mouth, while the swords clattered on the cobbles like hail
on the copper roof of a cathedral. It was the most beautiful and
complete thing I ever saw. I then swept the unarmed men back a pace or
two with a flirt of my weapon, and walked up the pavement, kicking the
swords together till they lay in a heap at my feet. The chief ruffian
stood there dazed, with his sword still in his hand, for he had
stepped outside the circle, he acting as captain, and depending on the
men to do the work.
"Drop that," I shouted, turning on him, and he flung his sword in the
street as if it was red hot.
"Sir," said I to him, "a sword in your hand is merely an
inconvenience to you; see if you don't look better with an armful of
them. Pick up these nine blades in a bundle and walk on before me to
the 'Pig and Turnip.' When we come into the courtyard of that tavern,
you are to turn round and make me the lowest bow you can without
rubbing your nose against the pavement. Then you will say, as
gracefully as the words can be uttered:
"'Mr. O'Ruddy,' you say, 'these swords are yours by right of conquest.
You have defeated nine armed men to-night in less than as many
minutes, so I present you with the spoil.' Then you will bow to the
people assembled in the courtyard,--for there is aways a mob of them
there, late and early,--and you will make another low obeisance to me.
If you do all this acceptably to my sense of politeness, I will let
you go unmolested; but if you do otherwise, I will split your gullet
for you."
"Sir," said the captain, "I accept your terms."
With that he stooped and picked up the bundle of weapons, marching on
stolidly before me till he came to the "Pig and Turnip." All the rest
had disappeared in the darkness, and had gone to their dens, very
likely to nurse sore knuckles and regret the loss of good stout
blades.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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