During the night, the marauding party and their leader departed.
There was no game at Ombrega, therefore I employed the interval
of two days in cleaning all the rifles, and in preparing for a
fresh expedition, as that of the Settite and Royan had been
completed. The short Tatham No.10 rifle carried a heavy cylinder,
instead of the original spherical ball. I had only fired two
shots with this rifle, and the recoil had been so tremendous,
owing to the heavy weight of the projectile, that I had
mistrusted the weapon; therefore, when the moment arrived to fire
off all the guns preparatory to cleaning, my good angel whispered
a providential warning, and I agreed to fire this particular
rifle by a long fishing-line attached to the trigger, while the
gun should be fastened to a tree. It blew all to pieces! The
locks were blown entirely away, and the stock was shattered into
fragments: nothing remained but the thick end near the
shoulder-plate. I had received a mysterious presentiment of this;
had I fired that rifle in the usual manner, I must have been
killed on the spot. The charge was five drachms, which was small
in proportion to the weight of the cylindrical projectile.
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