The Pilot: A Tale of the SeaCooper, James Fenimore
History
The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea
Cooper, James Fenimore
Historical fiction; Sea stories; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Naval operations -- Fiction; War stories
This arrangement was hastily executed in all its parts. The gentlemen
swallowed their meal in the manner of men who ate only to sustain
nature, and as a duty; after which the whole house became a scene of
bustling activity. The troops were mustered and paraded; Borroughcliffe,
setting apart a guard for the building, placed himself at the head of
the remainder of his little party, and they moved out of the courtyard
in open order, and at quick time. Dillon joyfully beheld himself mounted
on one of the best of Colonel Howard's hunters, where he knew that
he had the control, in a great measure, of his own destiny; his
bosom throbbing with a powerful desire to destroy Griffith, while he
entertained a lively wish to effect his object without incurring any
personal risk. At his side was the young cornet, seated with
practised grace in his saddle, who, after giving time for the party of
foot-soldiers to clear the premises, glanced his eye along the few files
he led, and then gave the word to move. The little division of horse
wheeled briskly into open column, and the officer touching his cap to
Colonel Howard, they dashed through the gateway together, and pursued
their route towards the seaside at a hand-gallop.
The veteran lingered a few minutes, while the clattering of hoofs was to
be heard, or the gleam of arms was visible, to hear and gaze at sounds
and sights that he still loved; after which, he proceeded, in person,
and not without a secret enjoyment of the excitement, to barricade the
doors and windows, with an undaunted determination of making, in case of
need, a stout defence.
St. Ruth lay but a short two miles from the ocean; to which numerous
roads led, through the grounds of the abbey, which extended to the
shore. Along one of these paths Dillon conducted his party, until, after
a few minutes of hard riding, they approached the cliffs, when, posting
his troopers under cover of a little copse, the cornet rode in advance
with his guide, to the verge of the perpendicular rocks, whose bases
were washed by the foam that still whitened the waters from the surges
of the subsiding sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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