Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete)Richardson, Major (John)
General
Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy (Complete)
Richardson, Major (John)
Pontiac's Conspiracy, 1763-1765 -- Fiction
In the midst of an anxious group of officers, comprising nearly all of
that rank within the fort, stood two individuals, attired in a costume
having nothing in common with the gay and martial habiliments of the
former. They were tall, handsome young men, whose native elegance of
carriage was but imperfectly hidden under an equipment evidently
adopted for, and otherwise fully answering, the purpose of disguise. A
blue cotton shell jacket, closely fitting to the person, trowsers of
the same material, a pair of strong deer-skin mocassins, and a coloured
handkerchief tied loosely round the collar of a checked shirt, the
whole surmounted by one of those rough blanket coats, elsewhere
described, formed the principal portion of their garb. Each, moreover,
wore a false queue of about nine inches in length, the effect of which
was completely to change the character of the countenance, and lend to
the features a Canadian-like expression. A red worsted cap, resembling
a bonnet de nuit, was thrown carelessly over the side of the head,
which could, at any moment, when deeper disguise should be deemed
necessary, command the additional protection of the rude hood that fell
back upon the shoulders from the collar of the coat to which it was
attached. They were both well armed. Into a broad belt, that encircled
the jacket of each, were thrust a brace of pistols and a strong dagger;
the whole so disposed, however, as to be invisible when the outer
garment was closed: this, again, was confined by a rude sash of worsted
of different colours, not unlike, in texture and quality, what is worn
by our sergeants at the present day. They were otherwise armed,
however, and in a less secret manner. Across the right shoulder of each
was thrown a belt of worsted also, to which were attached a rude powder
horn and shot pouch, with a few straggling bullets, placed there as if
rather by accident than design. Each held carelessly in his left hand,
and with its butt resting on the earth, a long gun; completing an
appearance, the attainment of which had, in all probability, been
sedulously sought,--that of a Canadian duck-hunter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account