The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Fiction; Satire
"Before I had finished my pipe, he came back, and told me that the woods
were so thick inland, that they might hold a thousand people, without
showing one. But he felt almost sure that he had heard a screech, not of
a bird or wild beast, but a man; and this made me pay some attention,
because I knew that his hearing was wonderfully sharp; for he had saved
us once, by hearing breakers through a full gale of wind at night, when
no other man could perceive the sound.
"'Call the hands together, and draw down to the boats,' was the order I
gave; 'I shall be down there myself, by the time you have got them
ready.' But whether I fell off to sleep, or what, is more than I can
tell; only one thing is certain, the men were at the boats, before I
was near them, and before I had begun to think at all about it. Then
they sent a lad to fetch me, whose name was Tommy, understrapper to the
cook; but before he could find me, a terrible scream made me sit up, and
look round. Upon the slope behind me, were a lot of darkies running, and
in front of them a white man, flying for his life, who had clearly
caught sight of our boats, just when his case seemed altogether
hopeless.
"Our men had seen him, and were pushing out a little; while others waved
their guns, and shouted to him, to put on his last bit of speed, and
they would save him. From the place where they stood, they could see the
great multitude of his pursuers, which I could not do; and this made me
wrong them, in thinking them cowards, for not coming up the hill, to
help. Meanwhile he was coming down the hill, with his breath too short
to be used, and his heart pumped out, and his naked legs covered with
blood, and his face as white as birch-bark, and as resolute as iron.
Three of his pursuers were in front of the rest, and not more than
thirty yards behind him, and each bore a javelin, which he would not
throw yet, for fear of missing aim in the rush of it. None of them had
seen me, where I sat and watched them, through the bush that sheltered
me.
"I saw that they must pass, within a few yards of my lair, so I crawled
behind a tree which was feathered with some creepers, and there stood
upright, with my double-barrelled shot-gun, which I luckily had brought
for the chance of game. Then I gave a little whistle, and the flying man
descried me, and turned in that direction. 'Don't stop,' I whispered;
and he saw what I meant, and continued down the hill, as if he had not
seen me. Then as his three pursuers rushed past the tree, I let out with
my fist at the left ear of the nearest one, and sent him sprawling; then
I shot the two others as dead as a door-nail, before they could turn to
lance me. Big limber fellows they were both; one of them fell forward on
his head, and turned a somersault, down the steep ridge he was so
hastily descending.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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