An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge - Tesl Times



An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge

[Adapted from the story by Ambrose Bierce]

A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behind his back, the hands bound with a rope. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a strong beam above his head and the extra rope fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards that were laid upon the edge of the bridge supplied a footing for him and his executioners—two soldiers of the Northern army, directed by a sergeant. At a short distance away on the same board was an armed officer. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle. They blocked the two ends of the bridge. 

Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight. The other bank of the river had a row of tree trunks, with small openings for rifles, and a single large opening through which protruded the end of a cannon facing the bridge. Between the bridge and fort were the spectators--a single group of soldiers in line.  The captain stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his men. Death is an honored guest who when he comes announced is to be received with formal signs of respect. In the military silence and stillness are forms of respect. 

The man who was being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years of age.  He was a civilian, if one might judge from his clothes, which were that of a planter. His eyes were large and dark gray, and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the rope. Evidently this was no common assassin. The military makes rules for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded. 

The preparations being complete, the man and the sergeant were standing on the two ends of the same board, which covered three of the cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian stood reached out over the edge of the bridge. This board was held in place by the weight of the sergeant. At a signal from the captain the sergeant would step aside, the board would tilt and the condemned man go down over the edge. Only the rope around his neck would stop his fall. The arrangement was simple and effective. His face and eyes had not been covered. He looked a moment at his feet and then let his eyes wander to the swirling water of the stream beneath his feet.  A piece of wood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the stream. 

He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and children. He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him.  "If I could free my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose from around my neck and jump into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming strongly, reach the riverbank, take to the woods and get away to my home. My home, thank God, is still safe from the Northern Army; my wife and little ones are still beyond the army's farthest reach." These thoughts must be written in words here, but they flashed as quickly as light into the man's brain. Then the captain nodded and the sergeant stepped off the board. 

II

Peyton Fahrquhar was a well to do landowner, of an old and highly respected Alabama family. He was a slave owner and like other slave owners, he believed that slaves were necessary to Southern farming. He had not been able to join the Southern army, but he had wanted to help the South. He did what he could. No service was too humble for him to perform in the help of the South, no adventure to perilous for him to try. 

One evening while Fahrquhar and his wife were sitting on a bench near the entrance to his farm, a man dressed like a Southern soldier rode up to the gate and asked for a drink of water. Mrs. Fahrquhar was only too happy to serve him. While she was fetching the water, her husband approached the dusty horseman and asked eagerly for news from the war. 

"The Yankees are repairing the railroads," said the man, "and are getting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creek bridge, repaired it and built a fort on the north bank. The commander has issued an order declaring that anyone caught interfering with the railroad, its bridges, tunnels, or trains will be hanged.  I saw the order." 

"How far is it to the Owl Creek bridge?" Fahrquhar asked. 

"About thirty miles." 

"Are there soldiers on this side of the creek?" 

"Only a few at this end of the bridge." 

"Suppose a man should elude the soldiers and overpower one of the sentinels," said Fahrquhar, smiling, "what could he accomplish?" 

The soldier reflected. "I was there a month ago," he replied. "I observed that there was a large amount of dry wood against the wooden supports at this end of the bridge. It would easily burn like tinder." 

The lady had now brought the water, which the soldier drank. He thanked her and rode away. An hour later, after nightfall, he passed their farm again, this time going northward in the direction from which he had come. He was a Northern soldier. 

III

  As Peyton Fahrquhar fell straight downward from the bridge he was aware of the pain of a sharp pressure upon his throat. Sharp, terrible pain seemed to shoot from his neck downward through every part of his body. It seemed like streams of fire were heating him to a terrible temperature. He could not think. He had power only to feel, and feeling was torment. He was aware of motion. He seemed to be falling through a bright cloud. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and dark. He was able to think again; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. There was no air; the rope about his neck was already suffocating him and kept the water from his lungs. To die of hanging at the bottom of a river!--the idea seemed crazy to him. He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a distant beam of light. He was still sinking, for the light became fainter and fainter until it was only a small glow. Then it began to grow and brighten, and he knew that he was rising toward the surface.

"To be hanged and drowned," he thought, "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair." A sharp pain in his wrist told him that he was trying to free his hands.  The rope fell away; he next worked upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust it aside. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire, his heart gave a great beat, trying to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body was in anguish! But his disobedient hands did not obey him. They beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. He felt his head emerge; his eyes were blinded by the sunlight; his chest expanded, and with a great agony his lungs filled with air. 

He was now fully aware of his surroundings. He was unusually alert. He had come to the surface and he saw the bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the captain, the sergeant, his executioners. They shouted and pointed at him. The captain had drawn his pistol, but had not fired yet.

Suddenly he heard a sharp sound and something hit the water within a few inches of his head. He heard a second sound, and saw one of the sentinels with his rifle at his shoulder, a light cloud of blue smoke rising from the front. The man in the water saw the eye of the man on the bridge gazing into his own through the sights of the rifle. 

A current caught Fahrquhar and turned him half round; he was again looking at the forest on the bank opposite the fort.  The sound of a clear, high voice now rang out behind him and came across the water:  "Company! . . . Attention! . . . Ready! . . . Aim! . . . Fire!" 

Fahrquhar dived--dived as deeply as he could. The water roared in his ears like the voice of Niagara, yet he heard the dull thunder of the shots and, rising again toward the surface, met shining bits of metal, sinking slowly downward.

As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he had been a long time under water; he was noticeably farther downstream--nearer to safety. The soldiers had almost finished reloading. The two sentinels fired again, independently and missed. 

The hunted man saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming vigorously with the current. He had been caught by the current of the river and was being sent on with a rapid speed. In a few moments he was thrown upon the small stones at the foot of the Southern bank of the stream and behind a projecting point which hid him from his enemies. 

He sprang to his feet, rushed up the bank, and plunged into the forest. All that day he traveled. The forest seemed immense; there was not even a road. By nightfall he was fatigued, footsore, famished. The thought of his wife and children sent him on. At last he found a road which led him in the right direction. It seemed strange. No fields bordered it, and no houses were anywhere. There was no one around. The trees formed a straight wall on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point. The wood on either side was full of unusual noises.  His neck was in pain and lifting his hand to it found it horribly swollen. He knew that it had a circle of black where the rope had bruised it. How softly the grass had covered the road--he could no longer feel the roadway under his feet! 

Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene--perhaps he has merely recovered from a dream.  He stands at the gate of his own home. Everything is the way he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have traveled the entire night. As he pushes open the gate, he sees his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the doorway to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smile of joy. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forwards with extended arms. However, as he is about to touch her he feels a painful strike upon the back of his neck; a blinding white light blazes all about him with a loud bang--then all is darkness and silence! 

Peyton Fahrquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the Owl Creek bridge. 

 

Questions: An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge Name:_________________

[2 points] (1) At the beginning of the story, where is Peyton Farquhar and why has he

been brought there?

[1 point] (2) Why were the soldiers so silent at the beginning of the story?

[2 points] (3) When Farquhar fell from the bridge, did the rope around his neck break or

did his neck break? (In other words, what really happened?) How do you

know?(provide evidence to support your opinion.)

[1 point] (4) What do you think the loud bang Farquhar heard at the end of the story was?

[2 points] (5) How long do you think it took for Farquhar’s escape and adventure to go

through his mind?(Support your answer with evidence)

Turn Over(

[2 points] (6) Farquhar was hanged because he tried to sabotage the bridge and prevent

the Northern army from crossing it. Did he deserve to die for his crime?

Are there any crimes for which you think a person should deserve to die?

(Why or why not?)

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