The
shell had fallen about 40 feet short of the convent, on the edge of the
deserted garden. Many explanations were given to account for this shot,
none of which seemed to me to be very lucid, and I secretly determined
to clear out as soon as the doctor would permit. The very next day we
had the narrowest escape of our lives that it is possible to imagine.
There had been very little shelling, and I had taken my first outing in
the shape of a rickshaw drive during the afternoon. The sun was
setting, and our little supper-table was already laid at the end of the
corridor into which our rooms opened, close to the window beside which
we used to sit. Major Gould Adams had just dropped in, as he often did,
to pay a little visit before going off to his night duties as Commandant
of the Town Guard, and our repast was in consequence delayed--a
circumstance which certainly helped to save our lives. We were chatting
peacefully, when suddenly I recollect hearing the big gun's well-known
report, and was just going to remark, "How near that sounds!" when a
terrifying din immediately above our heads stopped all power of
conversation, or even of thought, and the next instant I was aware that
masses of falling brick and masonry were pushing me out of my chair, and
that heavy substances were falling on my head; then all was darkness and
suffocating dust.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188