Page:Narrative of the battles of Drumclog, and Bothwell Bridge (2).pdf/8

8 the first shock, I discharged my pistols. His start in the saddle, told me that one of them had  effect. With one of the tremendous oaths of Charles II. he closed with me. He fired his steel pistol. I in front of him;--my sword glanced on the weapon,  gave a direction to the bullet, which savcdsaved [sic] my life. this time my men had driven the enemy before them and had left the ground clear for the single combat. he made a lounge at my breast, I turned his aside, by one of those sweeping blows, which are rather the dictate of a kind of instinct of self-defence, than  movement of art.--As our strokes redoubled, my antagonist's dark features put on a look of deep and settled ferocity. No man who has not encountered the of his enemy, in the field of battle, can conceive the looks and the manner of the warrior, in the moments of his intense feelings. May I never witness them again. We fought in silence. My stroke fell on his left shoulder; tit [sic] cut the belt of his carabine, which fell to the ground. His blow cut me to the rib, glanced along the bone, and rid me also of the weight of my carabine. He had now advanced too near me to be struck with the sword. I grasped him by the collar. I pushed him backwards; and, with an entangled blow of my Ferrara, I struck him across his throat. It cut only the strap of his headpiece, and it fell off. With a sudden spring, he seized me by the sword belt. Our horses reared, and we both came to the ground. We rolled on the heath in deadly conflict. It was in this situation of matters, that my brave fcllowsfellows [sic] had returned from the rout of the flanking party, to look after their commander. One of them was actually rushing on my antagonist, when I called on him to rctireretire [sic]. We started to our feet. Each grasped his sword. We closed in conflict again. After parrying strokes of mine enemy, which indicated a hellish ferocity, I told him, my object was to take him prisoner; that sooner than kill him, I should order my men to seize him. "Sooner let my soul be brandered on my ribs in hell," said he," than be captured by a Whigmore. 'No