"I was struck only once, and it amounted to nothing.

It was in the same battle.

A pigeon became so frightened by the smoke and racket that it flew hither and thither, and finally perched on my shoulder.

While there a musket ball struck its claw at the junction of the toes with the leg, and entered my shoulder.
The resistance it met was so tough that it saved my shoulder from being shattered; except for that, the hurt must have proved serious, but it did not bother me at all." The Admiral, still loosely holding the weapon in his hand, turned his faded eyes toward the window and gazed out over the snow.

Those eyes seemed to look backward over the vista of forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty years, and must have recalled the many stirring scenes in which he had taken part, as well as the faces of the brave fellows, like himself, who had gone from earth long ago, leaving him alone.