Tough yarns, vol. 2 (of 2) : $b A series of naval tales and sketches to please all hands, from the swabs on the shoulders down to the swabs in the headBarker, M. H. (Matthew Henry)
General
Tough yarns, vol. 2 (of 2) : $b A series of naval tales and sketches to please all hands, from the swabs on the shoulders down to the swabs in the head
Barker, M. H. (Matthew Henry)
Sea stories, English; Seafaring life -- Fiction
Upon an enthusiastic mind, nothing fixes an impression more deeply
than the danger attendant upon an enterprise and the difficulties of
accomplishing it, and such I experienced in my attachment to Mariqueta.
The remembrance of her beauty, her retiring modesty, and her kindness
to an enemy and a stranger, filled my thoughts day after day; while,
in the stillness of night, fancy renewed the vision in my dreams. The
risks which myself and companions had run in our excursion, produced
an order from the commander-in-chief forbidding similar undertakings,
except to a certain distance from the town; and often have I rode to
the very verge of the precincts, entertaining the flatterer Hope, yet
destitute of expectation.
It was about three weeks after my visit to the farm that Sidney
accompanied me in my ride, and on our return we were overtaken by
a storm, which raged with the utmost fury. The rain came down in
torrents, and was swept like sheets of foaming spray across the plain.
The wind in its fury tore up the trees and scattered the branches
in every direction, threatening to crush us beneath their ponderous
weight. Completely drenched with rain and worn with the efforts to keep
our horses under curb, we arrived at the first village in our homeward
path. A straggling place it was, formed of a few miserable cottages, or
huts, with a chapel in the centre.
We stopped at the wine-house, (the only decent place,) and put our
frightened animals into a shed; after which we entered the room
appropriated for travellers, and found it was nearly filled with
Spaniards. Near the fire were ranged several persons attached to the
commissariat department, who had come from the city to bargain with
the hunters for cattle. The hunters, arrayed in their _ponchos_ and
broad-brimmed hats with small crowns, were mingling with the former
and carrying on a traffic, using the most violent gesticulations.
Stretched in one corner lay several guerillas with their fusees by
their side, ready at a moment’s notice in case of alarm. They were
soundly sleeping; but even in this placid state their features retained
the most hardened ferocity. Distinct by himself, in another corner, sat
a man in the guerilla costume, who on our entering, muffled up his face
as if he wished to be concealed from observation. Conviction instantly
flashed upon my mind that this was the individual I had been seeking,
but prudence dictated that the present moment was no time to recognise
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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