The bushes formed an absolute protection. His boat swayed with them,
which saved it from being damaged, and the overhanging lee of the cliff
kept most of the rain from him. He also wrapped about his body the pair
of blankets that he always carried, and he sat there not only in safety,
but with a certain physical pleasure.
Once more amid surroundings with the like of which Henry Ware had been so
familiar, the soul of his great ancestor seemed to have descended upon
him. Most young officers, no matter how brave or how skilled in war,
would have been awed and alarmed. He had no comrades at his elbow.
There was no light, no friendly sound to encourage him, he was as truly
alone, so far as his present situation was concerned, as any pioneer had
ever been in the heart of the wilderness. But for him there was pleasure
at that moment in being alone. He did not quiver when the thunder rolled
and crashed above his head, and the lightning blazed in one Titanic
sword slash after another across the surface of the river. Rather, the
wilderness and majesty of the scene appealed to him. Leaning well back
in his boat with his blankets closely wrapped about him, he watched it,
and his soul rose with the storm.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96