The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777 — John Shaqi
The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
History
The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Vermont -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
And, in defiance of the timely caution he had received, and the warning
sounds, of which his senses might have apprised him, had he paused
a moment to listen, he furiously applied the whip, and plunged madly
through the water towards the middle ice But as rapidly as he drove,
the team had not passed over more than one third of the distance across,
before he and all with him became fully aware of the fearful peril they
had so recklessly incurred; for, at this critical moment, with awful
brunt, the mountain wave of icy ruins came rolling round the screening
point into full view, and not fifty yards above them. A cry of alarm
at once burst from every occupant of the menaced vehicle and Peters,
no less frightened than the rest, suddenly checked the horses, with the
half-formed design of turning and attempting to regain the shore he
had just left. But on glancing round, he beheld, to his dismay, the ice
burst upward from its winter moorings along the shore, leaving between
them and the bank a dark chasm of whirling waters, over which it
were madness to think of repassing. At that instant, with a deep and
startling report, the broad sheet of ice confining the agitated river
burst asunder parted, and was afloat in a hundred pieces around them.
Another piercing cry of terror and distress issued from the devoted
sleigh and Miss Haviland, with an involuntary impulse at the fearful
shock, leaped out on to the large cake of ice on which the sleigh and
horses were resting. She seemed instantly to perceive her error; but
before she could regain the sleigh, or even be caught by the extended
hands of her friends, the frightened horses made a sudden and desperate
lunge forward, and, with a speed that could neither be checked nor
controlled, dashed onward over the dissevering mass, leaping from piece
to piece of their sinking support, and each in turn falling in, to be
drawn out by his mate, till they reached the shore, and rushed furiously
up the bank, beyond the sweep of the dreadful torrent from which they
had so miraculously escaped.
“O God of heaven, have mercy on my daughter!” exclaimed Haviland, in
a piteous burst of anguish, as he sprang out of the sleigh among the
company, who, with horror-stricken looks, stood on the bank mutely
gazing on the fast receding form of the luckless maiden, thus
left behind, to be borne away, in all human probability, to speedy
destruction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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