Cheer, boys, cheer! for country, mother country;Cheer, boys, cheer! united heart and hand;Cheer, boys, cheer! we’re going to beat the Russians;Cheer, boys, cheer, for our dear native land!
Cheer, boys, cheer! for country, mother country;Cheer, boys, cheer! united heart and hand;Cheer, boys, cheer! we’re going to beat the Russians;Cheer, boys, cheer, for our dear native land!
Cheer, boys, cheer! for country, mother country;Cheer, boys, cheer! united heart and hand;Cheer, boys, cheer! we’re going to beat the Russians;Cheer, boys, cheer, for our dear native land!
‘They’d better wait till they’ve done a bit of fighting,’ growled Linham; ‘then perhaps they won’t have so much breath for cheering.’
On the third day Jack’s troop reached Cosham, and there they were billeted until the ship that was to convey them to the East was ready. This was in two days’ time, and then, in spick and span order, the troop marched into Portsmouth. The band of the gallant Cameronians came out to play them into the town, and through cheering thousands they marched.
They went straight to the docks, and there Jack found Will, and was delighted to learn they were both going in the same ship, theEveline. It took some time to get all aboard, both men and horses; but at last, everything being finished, Jack and Will found themselves on deck taking their last look for many and many a month at an English crowd of civilians. After the usual delays and bustle and scurry, the anchor was weighed, and amidst the ringing cheers of thousands of spectators the Eveline stood gently out across the Solent.
‘Jack,’ said Will rather sadly, ‘I wonder what we shall be doing this day six months?’
Well for them that neither of them could foresee, for the date was April 25th, and that day six months was the day of the death-ride of the immortal ‘Six Hundred.’
LIFE at sea on board a troopship is to the soldier a dull time. To Jack the first few days were especially so, as he was prostrated by sea-sickness, being tormented from time to time by the assiduous attentions of those of his comrades who were not so bad, and who seemed never tired of asking him to ‘try a bit of fat pork.’ When he got about again they were three days out, and standing well down for the Bay of Biscay.
The colonel kept his men pretty busy, and Jack soon had enough to do. The second deck had been fitted up as a mess-deck for the men, and below that was the horse-deck. This was separated longitudinally into three divisions, the horses standing on each side with their heads facing inwards, the centre walk being for the men. Each horse was separated from its companion by a barrier, and had a sling beneath it to prevent slipping.
Necessarily a good part of the day was spent at ‘stables,’ as tending the horses was still called; then there was drill when the weather permitted, and various parades.
There was a good deal of skylarking going on, and much ingenuity was often displayed in devising practical jokes. In the evening the men would gather on the forecastle and smoke and tell yarns, those who had already seen service being eagerlylistened to as they told tales of hairbreadth escapes or thrilling deeds.
Jack and his comrades were thus sitting one fine night, when Sergeant Linham, taking his pipe from his mouth, blew violently down his nose, and prefacing his remarks with his usual exclamation, said, ‘Now I want to know what in all goodness have the Turks to do with this affair? What are we going to fight the Russians for, and where are we going to begin, for no one at present seems to know?’
‘You want to know a good deal, sergeant,’ said a trooper named Pearson. ‘As far as I can make out, the Czar’s trying to collar Turkey, and we’re going to stop him. Anyway, we’re going to have a dust-up; that’s all I care about.’
‘Just like all the other fools,’ said Linham scornfully; ‘no matter what the reason so long as we fight; but I want to understand.’
‘A very laudable wish, sergeant,’ said a friendly voice from behind, and turning they saw Cornet Leland, cigar in hand, among them. The men would have jumped up, but the cornet bade them keep seated.
‘Would you mind telling us, sir, what wearegoing to fight about?’ said Linham. ‘I suppose thereisa cause.’
‘I suppose there is,’ laughed Leland; ‘but it’s a very involved one. My uncle has deeply studied the question, and he tells me we have been partly led into this affair by the French Emperor, who is compelled to make war on somebody to prevent his country from dwelling on awkward questions at home.’
‘Just what I should have expected,’ growled Linham; ‘we’re the cat’s-paw to get the chestnuts out of the fire as usual.’
‘There may be some truth in that,’ said the young officer; ‘but, of course, there are other causes. The Czar of Russia is practically a fanatic, with a raging hatred of Moslems; this he makes a pretext for wishing to take Constantinople under his protection. The other nations cannot agree to this, especially we who govern millions of Moslems in India. The Czar has poured an army into Turkey, and we are going either to drive it out or defend the country against fresh inroads, and the French are going to help us.’
‘Then we’re not bound for Russia at all?’ said Sergeant Linham in some disgust.
‘As far as I know, we are not,’ replied Cornet Leland.
‘H’m!’ said Sergeant Linham; ‘seems rather a muddled-up affair to start with; who knows what it’ll be in six months’ time?’
The sergeant’s words were prophetic.
The voyage was fairly uneventful. Jack was greatly struck with the appearance of Gibraltar, and he caught a glimpse of Malta. In the Mediterranean bad weather was experienced, and after passing the Dardanelles on the 19th of May theEvelinearrived off Constantinople. The men cheered loudly as they caught their first glimpse of the enchanting-looking city of mosques and minarets. They proceeded to Kulali, and there they disembarked and went under canvas. The troops arrived, and the regiment was all together again, having lost only twenty-six horses during the passage. On the last day of May they were marched off to Scutari and inspected by his Imperial Majesty the Sultan of Turkey, accompanied by a large and glittering staff.
Tired with a long day in the saddle, under a broiling sun, Jack was preparing to turn in when he saw Will looking for him.
‘Hurrah, Jack! Heard the news?’ cried his chum.
‘No. What is it?’
‘We’re to embark at once for Varna and join the troops there. We shall be in the thick of it soon, or my name’s not Hodson.’
‘And the sooner the better,’ said Jack; ‘there doesn’t seem to be much doing here, and it’s hardly worth while coming a thousand or so miles to be reviewed by an old effigy who hardly seems able to sit a horse.’
Sergeant Linham had much to say about this second embarkation. ‘Seems to me we’re like a lot of blessed pilgrims wandering about to try and find a resting-place,’ he said when they were again aboard. ‘Why the dickens don’t we go somewhere and do something?’
‘Not being a Field-Marshal or a Cabinet Minister, sergeant, I can’t tell you,’ replied Jack as he gazed over the ship’s side.
The sergeant snorted and walked off, and Jack gazed with admiration at the magnificent scenery. The sea was a deep-blue, the coast-line much indented, showing light-green herbage, luxuriance of trees and flowers, and rounded hills in the background. As they steamed along the blue channel of ever-varying width, they passed beautiful groupings of wood and dale, ravine and hillside, among which kiosks, bastions, tall mosques, noble mansions, and picturesque villages nestled.
The waters abounded in fish, porpoises and dolphins plashing and playing round the vessel as she cleaved her way against the rapid flood. Sword-fish occasionally made lightning-like raids at their prey, and hawks, kites, and sea-eagles flew skimming the surface of the water.
Night set in before they reached the entrance of the Black Sea. As they passed the forts the sentries yelled out strange challenges and burned blue lights, which were answered from the vessel. Then they ran into a drifting, clammy fog, which settled round them like a shroud and rendered everything as black as pitch, when, shivering after the heat of the day, Jack sought his berth.
In the morning the same haze hung over everything; but as the sun increased in power it lifted and soon a line of land, marked by a band of white clouds, came in sight. As the atmosphere got clearer, undulating folds of greensward, rising one above the other, and behind them hilly peaks, all covered with fine verdure, came in sight. The transport rounded a promontory on the left, passed an earthen fort, and entered a semicircular bay about a mile and a half in length and a couple of miles across, and there on its northern side lay Varna. It was a fine-looking place, showing up well against the hills behind it, a black-and-white coloured tower and the great lighthouse being the most conspicuous buildings.
In the bay lay British and Turkish men-of-war and Bulgarian and Armenian vessels. Small boats by the hundred, mostly containing either jolly Jack-tars or red-coated soldiers, darted here and there, and many and cheery were the salutations exchanged.
The transport went on and dropped anchor at the pier, when Jack saw that the town was surrounded by a stone wall ten feet high, painted white andloopholed, and that there were some detached batteries mounting heavy guns.
‘Rum sort of show,’ said Will to Jack. ‘Seems pretty strong.’
‘May be,’ replied Jack; ‘but what’s this coming?’
What had attracted his attention was a regular fleet of large, flat-bottomed boats, which were then approaching the transport. They were manned by British tars and marines, and it soon became evident that the boats were intended to disembark the cavalry. A rare job it was; but, however, it was at last accomplished successfully, and the ‘Death or Glory Boys’ assembled together on Bulgarian soil.
They were at once marched off to the British camp, which had been pitched on a scrub-covered plain about a mile from the town and half a mile from a large fresh-water lake. As they proceeded they met detachments of Riflemen, Highlanders, light infantry, Guards, and Marines; red-coats swarmed everywhere. Presently they passed a number of French soldiers, Zouaves, fine fellows in baggy red breeches, white gaiters, and tight-fitting blue jackets, swinging along with their peculiar gait.
Jack’s was the first cavalry regiment to arrive, and as the Frenchmen critically surveyed the smart blue and white uniforms, the fluttering lance-pennons, and other gay trappings, they burst out into a kind of yell, which the light cavalrymen, taking to be a compliment, answered with a cheer.
‘If that noise is the best thing the “mounseers” can do in the shape of a cheer,’ growled Sergeant Linham, glaring at the voluble Frenchmen from under the peak of his lance-cap, ‘I don’t think much of it.’
English staff-officers were seen in their plain uniforms galloping here and there, besides dozens of French officers in brass helmets or showy busbies, glittering with a profusion of gold and silver lace, and putting the British quite in the shade.
They also saw groups of lazy, indolent Turks, bands of villainous, cunning-looking Greeks, strings of Armenians, and an occasional Bulgarian driving anaraba, handsome fellows, in black sheepskin caps, baggy breeches, and loose brown jackets, exposing their sunburned chests. In the sash encircling the waist a yataghan or a pistol was often stuck; but for all that they had a dull, dejected look, born of long and cruel oppression by the Turk.
At last the camp, pitched on a dry, sandy table-land was reached. The artillery were on the right; the commissariat, surrounded by carts, flocks of sheep, and cattle, on the left; and the Rifles and infantry in the centre.
Jack’s regiment, after being marched and counter-marched for a considerable time, was located near the commissariat.
‘Seems as if they didn’t quite know what to do with us now we are here,’ said Jack.
‘Anyway, we’re close to the grub,’ cried Pearson, as he dismounted, ‘and that’s a thing I highly approve of.’
JACK had not been in Varna camp twenty-four hours before he began ardently to pray that their stay there might not be long. The chief characteristics of the town were its vermin, filth, and abominable stench, its ill-paved, rugged streets, tortuous lanes, and ramshackle buildings.
The Greeks, Armenians, and others surrounding the camps were some of the greatest rogues in the world; many, in fact, were no better than brigands, who thought as little of taking a human life as they did of killing a fowl, and who were already credited with the murder of several English and French soldiers.
This fact was brought home to Jack on the very first night of his arrival. Everything had been hurry, bustle, scurry, and confusion. No preparations had been made for the cavalry, and the men were busy till dark fixing the horse-lines, pitching tents, and so on. Thoroughly tired with a hard day, they turned in; but, not, alas! to sleep. The heat, the insects, the flies (terrible buzzing, stinging pests), kept all awake for some time. At last the different noises about the camp died down, and all that could be heard was the stamping of the horses as they tugged at their head-ropes, or the occasional challenge of a sentry.
Jack and Pearson, with several others, occupied a tent next to one in which was Will and some of his troop. Jack had at last sunk into a fitful sleep,when he was suddenly awakened by hearing several shots fired. Immediately he sat up just as another report rang out, and something whizzing past his head buried itself with a thud in the tent-pole. The sound sent a cold shiver through him, and he jumped to his feet. The others in the tent also woke up.
‘It can’t be an enemy taking us by surprise?’ said Pearson. ‘Anyway, boys, on with your things.’
Williams, Brandon, and the others hastily slipped on overalls and boots, and left the tent.
As Jack went out into the fitful moonlight, for it was cloudy, he ran up against Will.
‘What’s up?’ asked the latter.
‘Don’t know. I heard firing, so turned out. What ought we to do—sound the alarm?’
‘Not without orders.’
At that instant a sound of rushing footsteps was heard, and several figures darted by.
Pearson, being a very tall man, took a couple of strides after one of the suspicious figures, trying to seize it, while he cried out, ‘You seem in a hurry, friend.’
Hardly had the words escaped his lips when there was a flash, a loud report, and another ball came whizzing past the heads of the Lancers.
The momentary flash showed up a startling picture. Three brawny, picturesque-looking ruffians in baggy breeches and turbans, simply bristling with weapons, were seen rushing away.
A voice shouted, ‘After the rogues, boys;’ and Sergeant Linham appeared on the scene.
The Lancers started in pursuit, shouting, tripping over tent-ropes, and colliding with men who, aroused by the hubbub, came tumbling out of their tents.Jack, Sergeant Linham, Will, and Pearson kept together and headed the chase among the white tents.
The lines of the Lancers were right on the edge of the camp, and it was feared that the three desperadoes would escape once they could get outside the lines of tents, for they would have little difficulty in passing the sentries. Presently the pursuers lost sight of the men altogether, and running to the outside line of tents they all halted, vexed with themselves for having lost their prey.
They had become separated, Jack standing in the shadow of a tent just by the horse-lines. Suddenly a man came gliding round the other side of the tent, and, crouching low, was making off in the darkness. Jack, though, saw the glitter of steel, and in an instant he sprang forward and literally leapt on to the man’s back.
A sort of hissing snarl escaped the fellow, and jerking himself upright he tried to free himself from Jack’s grasp. The latter, however, was not to be cast off so easily. Being behind his man, he twined his left arm round his neck, almost throttling him, while with his right hand he prevented the fellow from drawing one of the many weapons he carried. At the same time he shouted loudly for help. The man fought and tore, rending Jack’s hands with his long, horny nails. At last, to prevent himself from being stabbed, Jack had to release his hold with his left arm and seize the man’s right wrist. Then they rocked to and fro for a few moments, when both fell, Jack being underneath. His head struck the ground sharply, and he relaxed his hold. His assailant whipped out a murderous-looking knife, which he raised on high with the intention of plunging it intothe trumpeter’s heart. He felt with his left hand as though seeking for the place to inflict the mortal wound when, just as it seemed that Jack’s last moment had come, a heavy footstep sounded, a big figure dashed into sight, the ruffian received a crashing blow on the temple from a British fist, and Pearson’s voice cried out, ‘We’ve got one, boys; I’ll hang on to him, while you see what damage he’s done.’
This question was answered by Jack himself jumping to his feet and declaring he was unhurt.
‘Ha, hum! that’s just as well for this gentleman, then,’ said Linham, who at that moment joined them and saw the man whom Pearson held.
‘How did you come across the reptile, Jack?’ asked Pearson.
Jack related what had happened, being listened to by an ever-increasing crowd, for the noise had roused a good many men from their slumbers.
Lights were procured, and the man, who proved to be a truculent-looking Greek, was handed over to the provost-marshal.
Jack and his friends then made their way back to their tents.
In the morning those who had been in the scuffle gave evidence before the provost-marshal, and the prisoner was identified by some of the camp-followers as a notorious brigand who for days had been hanging round the camp.
It transpired that a private of the Connaught Rangers named Conolly had on the day before been drinking in Varna with several Greeks. He was known to have had considerable arrears of pay upon him. That night Conolly’s comrades were aroused by hearing heavy groans. They found he had beenstabbed to death, and a man was seen escaping from the tent. Several of the Rangers gave chase, but lost their man near the camp of the Lancers. It was supposed that having escaped the most pressing danger, to show their utter contempt for the watchfulness of the English, out of mere bravado the Greeks had started firing their pistols among the tents. Nothing was decided, however, and the prisoner was put back for further inquiries.
‘H’m!’ snorted Sergeant Linham, ‘I suppose the toad is going to be let have another chance of slitting our throats. If it had been an officer who had been killed, I want to know’——
A trumpet was heard ringing out shrilly.
‘Hallo!’ said Jack; ‘listen; it’s the regimental call: “Death or Glory, Death or Glory, Death or Glory Boys!” Trot march, chaps! we’re wanted.’
They raced to the lines, saddled-up, and mounted, all being a few minutes late on parade.
As Jack was taking his place in the troop, Napper passed him.
‘Blair,’ he cried angrily, ‘you’re late on parade; I shall report you.’
This was the first time he had spoken to Jack since they had landed. Jack wondered what on earth it had to do with him if he were late; but he had no time to think it out, for the regiment was formed for inspection by the colonel. This lasted some time, and when they had returned to camp Will Hodson sought Jack, and his face looked grave.
‘I say, old man, have you heard the news?’ he asked.
‘I have heard several things to-day,’ replied Jack; ‘to what do you refer?’
‘Napper.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s in orders this morning as corporal.’
Jack whistled. ‘By George!’ he said, ‘that’s unfortunate for me,’ and he recollected Napper’s words.
He was unsaddling his horse when Sergeant Barrymore came up to him.
‘Blair,’ he said, ‘the colonel wants to see you at once.’
With a sinking heart Jack followed the sergeant into the presence of his stern old colonel. Napper and the regimental sergeant-major were standing by him.
‘What’s this I hear about you,’ he began angrily; ‘absent from the lines and late on parade this morning—our first day ashore? What is the meaning of it?’
Jack was utterly surprised at the colonel’s tone, thinking he must have known where he had been. He did not learn till later that the colonel, feeling ill, had been up at the hospital all night, and only rejoined his regiment in the morning, not knowing that Jack had been mixed up in the scrimmage with the Greek. Jack explained where he had been, and the colonel was looking incredulously at him when Sergeant Linham came hurrying up and corroborated what Jack had said.
The colonel then turned angrily to Napper. ‘What do you mean by telling such a trumped-up story?’ he cried angrily. ‘If this is the way in which you are going to exercise your authority you won’t wear your stripes many days. Go away.—And you, Blair, are dismissed. I have been misinformed.’
Napper gave Jack a malignant glance as they both saluted and retired.
‘I’ll have you yet,’ hissed Napper quietly.
But Jack made no reply. He was thinking that the feud between him and Napper was as keen as ever, and that now Napper had every opportunity of making his life miserable.
JACK had the true cavalryman’s love for his horse. He had so trained Dainty that she would lie down when told, follow when called or whistled for, and do several tricks which soldiers delight to teach their horses.
On the third morning after their arrival at Varna, while Jack was busy grooming Dainty, Napper, the new gold chevrons on his arms, came up to Jack, and with an ill-concealed grin of satisfaction said, ‘Trumpeter Blair, the horse you are grooming, D 27, is to be taken over to the lines of A Troop. My nag having died, I’m taking yours.’
Jack’s face flamed scarlet, and an angry answer rose to his lips. But he knew that Napper was only waiting for him to be imprudent or to forget himself in some other way to at once have him put under arrest for insubordination, and so strict was the discipline of the day that severe punishment would surely follow. Therefore Jack curbed his temper and said, ‘By whose authority do you demand my horse?’
‘By my own, you saucy cub, and don’t forget I’m your superior officer.’
Again the hot blood surged into Jack’s face; but he went on with the grooming of the horse, while Napper stood by making remarks.
‘It’s about time the nag was given to some one who’ll look after her,’ he said; ‘her back’s sore already. Sheer neglect.’
Jack took no notice, and Napper began again, ‘Brush her fetlocks, man; brush her fetlocks.’
Jack turned angrily and said, ‘I don’t require any instructions from you on how to groom a horse.’
‘Don’t you? Well, you’ll get some, and you’ll get yourself into trouble if you give me any more back answers.’
Jack bit his lip, and just then Sergeant Barrymore came by. Jack immediately hailed him and told him what Napper had said.
Sergeant Barrymore frowned. ‘But it’s quite out of order to take a horse from one troop to another,’ he said to Napper.
‘I can’t help that,’ replied Napper impudently. ‘I must have a horse that’s used to trumpet and bugle, and a good nag too, as I’m the colonel’s orderly. I’ve got permission from the riding-master. Of course, if you can override his decision I’ve nothing more to say.’
‘You’ve said quite enough as it is,’ growled Barrymore. ‘I’ll see Captain Norreys about it.’
He went off, and Jack saw him talking to the captain of his troop, the two going off to find the riding-master. Presently Barrymore, his face wearing a look of annoyance, came striding back.
‘I’m sorry, Blair,’ he said; ‘but it seems Corporal Napper has represented that yours is the only horse in the regiment up to the work he wants it for. He’s made a special point of obtaining it, and the riding-master has consented. Captain Norreys went to see him; but having given his word the riding-master won’t alter it.’
Napper grinned. ‘Just take her over to our troop-lines,’ he said to Jack.
‘You take her yourself,’ said Sergeant Barrymore; ‘Blair’s got something to do for me.’
Jack could have cried with grief and vexation when he saw Napper take hold of Dainty’s headstall and lead her away. The horse, too, seemed to resent it, for she suddenly bared her teeth and made a grab at Napper’s arm. He, however, dodged back and gave the mare a sharp blow across her velvet muzzle with the back of his hand.
‘I’ll cure you of biting, you brute,’ he said as he tugged savagely at her headstall, and Jack walked away, for he feared if he saw any more he should throw caution to the winds and give Napper the thrashing he deserved.
That night more transports arrived, having another cavalry regiment aboard, and the first thing in the morning their disembarkation was commenced.
As the first troop, having got all their horses and baggage ashore, marched up towards the camp, Jack saw the regiment was one of Hussars, and as they were passing him he heard his name shouted out, ‘Blair, Blair, shure it’s the bhoy himself;’ and, looking up at the trumpeter who rode behind the officer leading the troop, Jack saw the roguish eye and laughing features of Larry O’Callaghan.
‘Hallo!’ cried Jack, ‘I didn’t know this was your regiment.’
‘You can always reckon that the ould 8th are where there’s work to be done,’ said Larry. ‘Come and hunt me up when ye’ve a minute, and tell us all about this land of haythens.’
Directly Jack was free he went over to the Hussars’ lines. ‘And how are you, Larry?’ he said, shaking the Irish trumpeter’s hand.
‘Never so happy in all me loife,’ replied Larry. ‘And how ‘a that little mare that jolly nearly cooked your pigs for you at Chobham?’
Jack’s face fell when he spoke of Dainty, and he told Larry what had happened.
The Hussar gave an angry exclamation. ‘Bad cess to that Napper; he ‘s a baste,’ he cried. ‘But there, on active service ye need never be bothered for long with a man who bullies ye.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jack.
Larry looked round him cautiously. ‘I mane,’ he said, ‘that ye should have heard some of the tales me ould grandfather used to tell of his fighting days in the Peninsula and then ye’d understand what I mane.’
The men of the 8th fraternised jovially with the 17th, the most friendly relations having always existed between them. The two regiments lay close beside one another, and Larry came over in the evening to see Jack. They were talking with Will Pearson and one or two others when Sergeant Linham was seen approaching.
‘Hallo!’ cried Larry, ‘here’s old Leather Face. Shure he’s got the dryest throat of any man I ever met in me life, and we’ve got one or two long-necked ones in the 8th.—Good-evening, sargint.’
Linham gave Larry a stony look; then, without answering him, said to those of his own regiment, ‘Ha, hum! orders have just been issued that we parade at seven in the morning to march inland to a fresh camp. If you’ll take the tip of an old campaigner you’ll turn in and get a good night. It may be a long time before you’ll have another chance.’
At that moment the trumpets of the 8th wereheard ringing out for sergeant-majors to attend for orders.
‘By the piper, I must be off,’ said Larry, starting towards his own lines. ‘If there’s going to be a move I hope the ould 8th will be in it.’
At three o’clock next morning the tents of the Light Division were struck, and after breakfast they started in marching order. The infantry consisted of the 97th, 88th, and other line regiments—the 7th and 23rd Fusiliers, and a battalion of Rifles. A battery of artillery accompanied them.
Jack was mounted on the horse of a private of his troop who had been left behind in hospital. Napper, on Dainty, passed and repassed him, spurring the mare and riding her with a heavy hand on the curb. Jack bit his lips hard and pretended to take no notice; but the trial was a bitter one.
The march was through a splendidly wooded country, abounding in clear, sparkling streams, the verdure being of the richest and greenest. After a march of about nine and a half miles they reached Aladyn, where the infantry were left behind. The cavalry and artillery went on another nine miles, at first through a fertile but deserted country, eventually pitching tents at Devna. After the fine country they had passed through it was a bare spot, situated on the banks of a muddy river, very little grass for the horses, and no trees within a mile or two.
‘Just like our blessed arrangements,’ said Will to Jack; ‘march half a day through a fine country to find a dust-hole like this.’
The heat was almost unbearable. The flies were an absolute pest, as they almost worried the horses to death, and in the day-time men had to be employedto do nothing else but keep frightening off the swarms which settled on every part of the poor beasts.
The commissariat arrangements were fearful; there was absolutely no system, and many a day all Jack could get to eat was one biscuit and four ounces of half-raw pork, washed down with muddy water from the river, and that when thousands of tons of provisions were lying at Varna, eighteen miles away. There was plenty of fruit to be obtained cheap from the villagers, who after a time began to swarm in the camp; and the wine of the country, a poisonous and highly intoxicating compound, was plentiful and cheap. Every one was warned against the fruit and wine, as sickness and dysentery began to get prevalent; but many men ignored these orders, with evil results, as will presently be seen.
Napper did everything in his power to make Jack’s life miserable, and he pretty nearly succeeded. He also took to drinking heavily of the native wine, and was often half-tipsy, though never sufficiently so to prevent him carrying out his duty.
One of the amusements of those in camp was bathing, and such was the terrific heat and the longing to get into the cool water that many who could not swim ventured into the lake. Life was very monotonous. There was little to do; men pined at the inactivity. Illness began to appear; at first sickness, then that dread scourge cholera, and death commenced its havoc, a havoc that was to exact a toll nearly ten times as heavy as the enemy’s lead and steel.
One evening Larry O’Callaghan, who spent much of his spare time with Jack and Will, came burstinginto the former’s tent, where Will was writing a letter.
‘I say, bhoys,’ he cried, ‘I’ve got a grand idea. I’ve applied for a day’s leave, and I’m going up into the country to have a look round. What do ye say to joining me; we’ll all go together, and if we don’t raise a shpree that’ll bate a first-class wake my name’s not Larry.’
Both Jack and Will entered into the idea, and applied for and obtained leave for the day after next.
At seven o’clock in the morning they all met and started, little dreaming of the adventure which lay before them.
EVER since the affair of the Greek firing into the camp at Varna no soldiers had been allowed to leave the camp without arms, and the cavalry always carried their swords. The three trumpeters, then, when they left the camp for their day’s ramble in the country, were thus armed.
They skirted the hills, and then went for some distance through a plain covered with corn. Reaching a wood, they entered, then crossed a small stream by a rough bridge, arriving at a village, situated on the side of a hill. The cottages were all miserable-looking hovels made of mud and thatched with rushes, and the inhabitants were a spiritless-looking lot.
Breakfast of goat’s flesh and milk was obtained, and then the three went on again through beautiful wooded valleys and past some fine river-scenery. The natives seemed to look upon the three young soldiers with a certain amount of suspicion; but they continued their journey, and midday found them in a village of some importance, in which half a company of Turkish soldiers were quartered. All feeling hungry, Jack suggested dinner, and they entered the house of one of the principal villagers in the hope of getting something to eat. In this they were not disappointed; but Jack noticed that their host, a fine-looking, oldish man, who carried a knife stuck in hisgirdle, seemed half-afraid of his guests, and appeared in great trouble into the bargain.
The boys remarked about the Bulgarian’s sad demeanour; and Jack, who spoke French fluently and had a smattering of German, said he would try his host in both languages to see if he could discover the reason of his trouble.
To Jack’s questions in French the man answered, but with a large admixture of Bulgarian words. By constant questioning and repetition, however, Jack learnt the trouble of their host. It appeared that early in the morning a band of Bashi-Bazouks, unscrupulous ruffians of all nationalities who had been enlisted by the Turks, had ridden up to the village, seized all they wanted, beaten the headman, insulted several of the villagers, and then seized their host’s two sons and the daughter of another villager, demanding a large ransom for their release. The villagers being unable to pay, the Bashi-Bazouks had carried off their prisoners, and were then supposed to be in a wood some mile or two away. The poor Bulgarian said that such outrages were often committed, and that the Turkish soldiers, far from trying to prevent these deeds, winked at them, if they did not indeed lend active assistance. Unless the ransoms were paid the rule was for the captors to send in to the parents the hands, ears, or perhaps toes of their prisoners; and this failing, their heads would be thrown into their houses at night, and the marauders would move on to commit further depredations somewhere else.
‘And these are the hounds we’re going to fight for!’ said Will. ‘Why, it makes one’s blood boil to hear of such things!’
‘Begorra, bhoys, we ought to have a worrd or two to say in this matter,’ cried Larry, jumping up. ‘Who’ll follow me to find out these skulking cowards?’ and drawing his sword, he flourished it round his head.
‘Steady, Larry, or you’ll frighten our host; he’ll think we’re thirsting for his blood,’ said Jack.
‘But we must do something!’ cried the excitable Larry, slamming his sabre back into its scabbard.
‘Yes, but what?’ said Jack. ‘Let’s consult.’
They were starting to do so when a loud English voice outside was heard exclaiming, ‘Hi, Tom! let’s pull up here and see if we can get a drink; I’m parched.’
‘Hurroo!’ cried Larry; ‘friends.’
They all ran to the door and saw a party of men of the 23rd Regiment and some artillerymen who, also enjoying a day’s leave, had wandered as far as the village.
Jack soon explained to the sergeant of the 23rd what had happened, and the little Welshman’s face grew red.
‘Py St David!’ he said, ‘Englishmans, are we going to stand this? The Royal Welsh Fusiliers will soon put this to rights, I shall tell you;’ and he said a few rapid words in Welsh to his men, when those of the 23rd who were his countrymen gave a loud yell.
‘Ye needna mak’ sic a screech,’ said a brawny Scotch artilleryman; ‘but if ye’ll gi’e me a drink and show me whaur these reevin’ deevils ha’ hidden theirsels, Andrew M’Farlane’ll see whether their heids are harder than his fists;’ and he clenched a hand that would have felled an ox.
‘England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,’ cried Jack delightedly; ‘horse, foot, and artillery. It’s a regular union army, and if we can’t bring a troop of marauding cut-throats to book we’ve no right to call ourselves British soldiers.’
Jack told the old Bulgarian what they intended doing, and he fell on his knees in gratitude. The new-comers were given drink and food, and then, under the leadership of the little Welsh sergeant, and guided by the Bulgarian, began their march.
The wood in which the marauders had taken refuge was of great extent and very dense, and the little party extended themselves and proceeded to beat for their game. They soon found traces, and these they followed; but it was getting dusk before they came in sight of some score of ruffians lying sprawling about, mostly asleep, while two men stood as sentries over the three prisoners.
The Welsh sergeant no sooner saw his enemy than he gave a wild yell and dashed upon them, sword-bayonet in hand. A couple of shots whistled above the heads of the little party who went in after the sergeant. The Bashi-Bazouks sprang to their feet, and seizing every description of arms—rifles, pistols, swords, lances, yataghans, and knives—prepared to offer a stout resistance.
The British soldiers closed with them, and soon a very babel of sounds arose—yells, shrieks, the snap of pistols and clash of steel, together with the fighting cries of half-a-dozen nationalities. The British, after their long inactivity, seemed positively to revel in the fight, and M’Farlane, Larry, and the Welsh sergeant laid about them in high glee.
While the British soldiers were fighting, theBulgarians crept round to a spot where they had seen the prisoners tied to trees, and liberated them. The Bashi-Bazouks, seeing this, and knowing they had nothing to gain by further fighting, soon made a rush for their horses, mounted, and rode off, firing their pistols as they went. A few flesh-wounds was all the damage done to the British, and in high jubilation they returned to the village.
It was far too late to think of returning to camp that night, and so they slept at the grateful Bulgarian’s house. Next morning, after a good meal had been given the soldiers, the elders of the village and the rescued prisoners thanked them very heartily for their services, and then, laden with presents, they started for their camp. This they duly reached without further adventure, and immediately went to their respective regiments to report themselves and account for their absence.
Jack and Will met Sergeant Linham as they were crossing their own lines, and that worthy looked sternly at them.
‘Ha, hum, you toads!’ he said, ‘where have you been? Corporal Napper gave information that you had deserted, and an order for your arrest is out.’
‘And if it isn’t desertion it’s absence without leave,’ said a disagreeable voice; and, turning, the trumpeters saw Corporal Napper regarding them evilly. ‘They’re to be put under arrest, sergeant,’ he said; and in two minutes Jack and Will found themselves prisoners, charged with a grave crime.
THE colonel of Jack’s regiment was a very strict disciplinarian, and absence without leave while on active service was an offence that, if proved, would bring very heavy punishment. This fact Jack and Will were quite aware of, and their feelings were very far from cheerful as they discussed the aspect of affairs.
‘It’s all that beast of a Napper’s doings,’ said Jack angrily. ‘I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I shall have to go for him, even at the expense of getting a court-martial. His tyranny is more than I am going to put up with.’
It was, indeed, Napper’s doings, and he had spread a report that both Jack and Will had been heard to say they were sick of soldiering and were going to take the first opportunity to bolt.
It might have gone hard with both of them had it not been for Larry O’Callaghan, whose explanation of his absence had been at once accepted by his trumpet-major. In the afternoon he came over to the lines of the Lancers to see his friends, when to his surprise he heard from Sergeant Linham that they were under arrest.
‘By the howly piper!’ he cried, ‘’tis too bad. But I can upset that baste of a Napper. Shure the man that gave him the shtripes should have put ’em on his back, not on his arm. Now, sargint darlin’, we’ll confound ’em. We’ll find the other bhoys as waswith us, and that’ll be enough evidence to upset even the great Dook himself if he was alive.’
He and Sergeant Linham set out for the camp of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. There they soon found the little sergeant, who greeted Larry warmly.
‘You are a goot lad,’ he cried, ‘and, for a horse-soldier, fought quite pravely. You would almost do for a Fusilier.’
‘Shure now, you’re jokin’,’ said Larry, tipping a wink at Sergeant Linham; ‘I’d never be able to grow feet big enough.’
The sergeant might have made some fiery answer; but his major, who came up at the moment, stopped all further exchange of pleasantries by saying that he would himself bring over the sergeant and the other men of his regiment in the morning.
Sergeant Linham and Larry, after dropping in at the canteens of various regiments, found Andrew M’Farlane and the other artillerymen, and all was ready for the morning.
When Jack and Will came up in due course before the colonel, the major of the Fusiliers, who had arrived with his men and the artillerymen, begged to be allowed to say a few words, and the tale he told was such that it at once altered the aspect of affairs.
The two trumpeters were liberated, the colonel saying they had behaved as he hoped men of his regiment always would, by taking the part of the weaker against the stronger.
Corporal Napper was then arrested, tried by summary court-martial, and reduced to the ranks.
This Jack could not pretend to be sorry for, though, as he said to Will, ‘I would rather he had kept hisstripes and been made to give up Dainty; the poor mare is only a shadow of what she used to be.’
Next morning Will was put in orders as corporal and orderly to the colonel,viceSamuel Napper reduced, and Jack hastened off to congratulate his friend.
‘It’s the first step up the ladder,’ he said, ‘and no one deserves it better than you; before we get home you’ll be sergeant.’
‘If ever we do get home,’ said Will. ‘Last night there was a case of cholera in ours; Jenkins of C Troop died.’
‘Our first loss,’ said Jack sadly. ‘I wonder who’ll be next.’
During the days that followed, the dread scourge, cholera, raged in the camp; day after day the burying-parties were busy, and dozens died off. The heat was intolerable, the camp a regular hotbed of pestilence. The water was full of animalcules, and it was learnt that seven thousand Russians who had perished of cholera in the campaign of 1828 were buried in the vicinity of the British camp, the spot having been christened by the Muscovites ‘The Valley of the Plague.’
Many of the men took to drinking heavily, thinking thus to keep off cholera; alas! they only lessened their chances of avoiding it.
Napper continued to drink as before, and since his reduction he seemed to hate Jack more and more. One morning, at watering-parade, he and Jack being together and some distance from the others, the former, who was of course mounted on Dainty, could not get her down to the water. He dismounted and dragged angrily at her headstall; but the mare stillrefused to drink. Napper then kicked her twice, savagely, which so enraged Jack that he cried out, ‘Let her alone, you brute, or I’ll report you.’
‘I’ll treat you the same if you interfere with me,’ said Napper furiously, and he struck the mare on the muzzle, and was again about to kick her when Jack slipped from his own horse, and catching Napper by the collar of his jacket, hurled him on his back.
Napper arose, literally livid with rage. For a moment he could not speak; then with eyes blazing with rage he hissed, ‘John Blair, I hate you; you’ve been my curse ever since you joined. The same regiment isn’t big enough for us. You got me broke. I’ll have your life.’
‘You brought your bad luck on yourself,’ answered Jack.
‘You lie; it’s you; it’s always you. I’ll fight you; we’ll settle up once and for all.’
‘I’m ready.’
‘To-night, then, with pistols. Over against the cemetery. Bring two charges, and we’ll fight till one of us falls. We’ll end this.’
‘A duel?’ cried Jack aghast.
‘Yes, a duel.’
‘Rubbish! You’re mad.’
‘I’m not mad, and you shall fight or I’ll brand you as a coward all over the camp. The French duel, and so can we. You shall meet me, or in the first engagement we’re in I’ll put a bullet in your back!’
With these words Napper leapt on Dainty, and, digging in his heels, trotted away.
Jack was left standing, lost in amazement. A duel! The thing was unheard of! Yet to be brandedas a coward, and to know that Napper was always on the lookout to take his life should they ever be engaged with the enemy! Truly he was in an awkward dilemma.
That day his troop went out on a reconnaissance, but Napper was never absent from Jack’s thoughts for an instant. He thought and thought, and at last determined on a course. He would meet Napper, whose mind he fully believed was unhinged; but he would not fire. If he should fall his death would be at Napper’s door, and he left a higher Power to avenge him.
Full of this thought, he was riding back in the evening, tired out with a long day in the saddle. As they neared the camp a burying-party of his regiment was coming out. The sight was now, alas! too common to excite more than a passing interest. Cornet Leland halted the troop, and they ‘carried lances’ as the party went by.
‘Wonder who it is this time?’ said Pearson to Jack; but the latter did not answer, he was busily thinking of his mad meeting with Napper.
He was coming from the horse-lines to his tent when he met Will, whom he determined to tell what he was going to do.
‘Good heavens, man!’ said Will when he heard; ‘what a strange thing. The hand of God is indeed evident.’
‘What do you mean, Will?’
‘That Napper was taken with cholera at ten o’clock this morning, and died at three. You must have passed his funeral as you marched in.’
Jack raised his cap. ‘God rest his soul!’ he said fervently; ‘truly His ways are inscrutable.’
WEEKS of discontent, sickness, and inactivity followed. Daily, dozens of stalwart men, who not many weeks before had left England in all the pride of glorious manhood, were stricken by the foul plague of cholera, died in a few hours, and, wrapped only in the blankets they had died in, were consigned to the earth.
Discipline became slack, the men grew beards and moustaches, dress regulations were relaxed, and wonder of wonders, the men were actually allowed to leave off their stocks!
The 11th Hussars, fresh from England, arrived to take up their quarters at Devna, and a very handsome show they made in their crimson overalls and richly laced pelisses; for those were the days before false economy had been introduced into the army and the soldier’s dress shorn of its chief attractions.
In the camp the distant boom of big guns besieging Silistria could be heard, and for three days a more heavy cannonade than usual was maintained. On the fourth day it absolutely ceased, and it was feared the gallant garrison who had made such a heroic defence had been overcome; but later the news was spread that the siege had been raised, and that the Russians were in full retreat, although the gallant young English officer who had been the heart and soul of the defence had met a soldier’s death in the trenches.
After their defeat the Russians had retreated so precipitately that their route could not be ascertained, and orders were received from Lord Raglan that Lord Cardigan should at once pursue them. The news reached Devna at two in the morning, and reveille was at once sounded.
‘Now, boys,’ said Sergeant Linham to Jack and Will, as he passed them, ‘we’ve got work before us, so sharpen your swords and be ready to parade at fourA.M.’
‘Come on,’ said Jack to Will, ‘get your carving-knife, and I’ll turn the handle while you sharpen.’
Full of glee at the prospect of a change from dismal Devna, and at a chance of at last coming face to face with a real enemy, the trumpeters went off.
Jack’s regiment, with the 8th and 11th Hussars, started that morning at four; they carried no tents and bivouacked on the bare ground. For seventeen days and nights they scoured the banks of the Danube toward Rustchuk and Silistria; but beyond putting to flight several bands of Bashi-Bazouks, who had been at their old game of pillaging and ravaging, no sign of an enemy did they see, and they returned to Devna quite disabled for service owing to the number of sore backs among the horses.
After the death of Napper, Jack had succeeded in getting back Dainty, and owing to his excessive care she was in tolerably good condition on his return.
The ravages of cholera continued, and soon after the return of the reconnoitring party the ‘Death or Glory Boys’ could barely muster on parade two hundred lances out of the three hundred and sixty one who had left England three months before.
All sorts of rumours were current. Sometimes itwas said that the war had been abandoned, and that the troops were to return to England without having struck a blow; sometimes it was said they were at once to proceed to Sebastopol. But still they stayed on at Devna, apparently forgotten, till one August day an aide-de-camp arrived from Lord Raglan, bearing orders for the cavalry and Light Division of infantry to return to Varna and embark, for whence no one seemed to know. No one, however, cared so long as they were going from Devna, and not one who gazed for the last time on the rich meadows and wooded heights, the verdant hillsides and the dancing waters of lake and stream, but hoped in his heart he should never see them again.
Varna was found much altered; the place was still packed with troops, both French and British, though thousands had died. They had been buried everywhere. Limbs could be seen sticking up out of the sand, dead bodies rose from the bottom of the harbour and bobbed about in a hideous fashion, while the places which had been set apart as cemeteries were full to overflowing.
Many of the regiments were merely skeletons; the 5th Dragoon Guards had lost so many officers and men that for a time it was disregimented and joined with the 4th Dragoons. Still, a move was at hand, and all were hoping to see the last of Varna.
Soon after Jack with his regiment returned to Varna a great fire broke out and raged for ten hours. A French spirit-shop had been set fire to by a Greek, and though the man had been cut down to the chin by a French officer the mischief had been done, and in spite of great efforts half Varna was laid in ruins, immense quantities of stores being lost.
The preparations for the embarkation were pushed forward; hundreds of transports filled the bay of Varna, and the fleet assembled there. The narrow lanes of the town were constantly blocked with mules and carts on their way to the beach with luggage, while the whole day long detachments of men were being marched down and embarked.
At last all were on shipboard and ready; but then another delay occurred while waiting for the French. After two days, during which time many more men died of cholera, the signal was given, and the huge armada stood out to sea. It was then known that their destination was Sebastopol, and Jack’s heart beat high with hopes that they would at least have one brush with the Russians.
Very bad weather was experienced; but, after a rough voyage of nine days, on a beautiful evening land was made and the anchors dropped. All craned their necks to get their first sight of that Crimea on which was to be fought some of the mightiest fights of modern days. Low lying, sun-scorched plains were seen, among which farmhouses and what was taken to be cattle could be distinguished. Those regiments which had bands made the bay echo with their music, and the trumpets of the cavalry added to the martial sounds.
Orders were given for the troops to disembark next morning, and Jack turned into his bunk feeling thankful that at last active work was before them.
THE morning broke bright and beautiful. At six o’clock the vast array of ships was under way again and approaching closer to the coast, towards which every eye was eagerly turned.
Cornet Leland was gazing through his glass at the plains and marshes when he suddenly exclaimed, ‘By Jove! those are Cossacks, or I’m a Dutchman.’
‘Where, sir—where?’ asked Jack, who stood beside him.
The cornet handed Jack his glasses.
‘I see them—a patrol; little chaps armed with long lances and mounted on shaggy ponies. Hurrah!’
The news that Cossacks were in sight ran through the vessel, and a hearty cheer broke out.
Later in the day anchor was dropped in Kalamita Bay, christened afterwards by the men ‘Calamity Bay.’ The place of landing was a long stretch of shingly beach, a lake about a mile long lying some two hundred yards inland. The English called the place ‘Old Fort.’
Next morning at daybreak disembarkation commenced. The infantry of the Light Division had the honour of landing first; and, as it was quite possible their landing might be opposed, they were prepared. Each man had his blanket and greatcoat strapped to his back, a spare pair of boots and socks, three days’ rations, and fifty rounds of ammunition.
As the soldiers came creeping down the ladders tothe boats, the jolly tars in the most solicitous fashion looked after and assisted them, taking their rifles, helping them to remove their knapsacks, which were stowed away under the seats, and patting them on the back and telling them not to be ‘afeerd of the waves!’ At last, on a signal from the flagship, the boats dashed for the shore. In an instant the sea was alive with launches, gigs, and cutters all racing as if for life. Thundering cheers burst from those still left on board, who watched the scene with keen interest.
The French had started at the same instant as the English, and it seemed to be a race between them. The French boats were, however, lighter and carried fewer men, and it was seen that one shot ahead of the rest. She had only about a dozen men aboard, and, manned by a powerful crew, she flew through the water and reached the shore first.
A great cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ burst from the French, and Sergeant Barrymore ground his teeth in rage.
‘Confound those froggies!’ he cried savagely; ‘they want to be first in everything where they can make a bit of show; we shall see whether they’re as anxious to be first at the cannon’s mouth.’
Long before the French had hoisted their tricolour an English boatload of Fusiliers had landed, and the officer sprang ashore, waving his sword. The rest of his regiment followed and were at once formed up, when they advanced in skirmishing order.
Seeing this, Jack said, ‘We’re the first to commence business anyway.’
From then the men poured on the beach, which literally swarmed with red-coats, and presently theturn of the cavalry and artillery came to land. The sailors were here of the utmost service with the guns and the restive horses, and many accidents must have occurred had it not been for their herculean efforts and extraordinary care.
Jack’s troop was the first to get to land, and the men were immediately formed up and sent on as a support to Sir George Brown, who had pushed forward with a few Fusiliers and Riflemen to take possession of a ridge ahead and to reconnoitre the country. Sir George, being mounted, got ahead of the infantry, and with the exception of a sergeant and two men, who had kept up with him, was quite alone.
Cornet Leland hurried up his Lancers, and was about a hundred yards from the General when suddenly a Russian officer and a patrol of Cossacks were seen on the ridge ahead. They were only visible for a moment; then they disappeared again behind the ridge.
Cornet Leland had, however, seen them, and cried out, ‘The General will be killed or captured! First two sections unsling lances and follow me!’
The horses, cramped with the voyage, could not move very fast, and ere they could reach the General, who was very short-sighted, the Cossacks were seen swooping down on his flank to cut off his retreat.
‘17th, follow me! Charge!’ cried Leland; and, wheeling his horse, he made straight for the Cossacks.
The sight of the English Lancers took the Russians by surprise, and, as though by common consent, they reined in their shaggy ponies. The waving pennons and flashing lance-points were too much for them, and they suddenly wheeled and galloped madly awaytowards Sebastopol, receiving a few shots from the French skirmishers on their right as they passed them.
Sir George Brown looked at the Lancer officer as he saluted with his sword.
‘Bless my soul!’ he said in perfectly unconcerned tones; ‘lucky you were here; my bad eyesight will get me into trouble some day. I really must wear glasses!’
The rest of Jack’s troop came up, and then Sir George led them some distance inland, Cornet Leland keeping his eyes well about him. On rounding a sort of promontory they came in sight of a road leading inland, and there, before their very eyes, was a long line of wagons, driven by native drivers and escorted by a number of Cossacks.
‘A convoy, Sir George—a convoy!’ cried Leland excitedly.
‘Wagons,’ murmured the General; ‘the very thing we want.’
‘Give me permission to charge with my troop and the wagons are yours, General,’ said Leland.
The General looked wistfully at the wagons; then said, ‘You haven’t got forty men with you.’
‘We’re a match for double that number,’ replied Leland; ‘let us go in, Sir George.’
‘It’s the true spirit of the old Peninsula days,’ said Sir George; ‘go in, my boy, and win. Attack them from each side.’
Cornet Leland turned to his troop, his face beaming with pleasure.
‘Form ranks from the right!’ he cried. ‘Sergeant Barrymore, take the right column; the left follow me! Trot march!’
In a very few seconds the two lines of Lancers were bearing down on the astonished Russians, who never dreamed that such a handful of men would have the impudence to attack them. Before they had recovered from their surprise the Lancers were close to them.
Then those Cossacks who marched in rear of the wagons faced about, formed in double column, and prepared to receive their enemy. They fired a sputtering volley; but the bullets flew wide, and only one man and two horses were hit.
‘Gallop!’ shouted Cornet Leland, waving his sword; and Jack, who was just behind him, wheeled his horse to the right so as to come abreast of his officer.
Williams, who was riding behind Sergeant Barrymore, did the same, and so the front rank of four, two armed with swords, for Jack had drawn his, and two with lances, thundered down upon the Cossacks. Having fired their volley, these remained halted in a sort of confusion as though not knowing what to do. Many of them did not even take their lances from the rests, but sat staring at the advancing English. They had little time to consider the situation further; the Lancers came crashing in amongst them, unhorsing several and scattering the others. For a few moments there was a mêlée of stabbing lances, whirling swords and plunging horses.
Cornet Leland had ridden straight at a red-faced, snub-nosed officer, the red cord on whose coarse green uniform was edged with gold lace; but the fellow reined aside from the officer and faced the trumpeter. He made a point at Jack with his crooked sabre, but Jack parried the blade with ease. In return hedelivered cut two with all his might; but to his astonishment his blade, falling on the shoulder of the Russian, was turned aside by the coarse red cloth. The snub-nosed Cossack, with a sort of hissing grunt, then drew a pistol from his holster, and, levelling it at Jack’s head, fired, missing him only by a hand’s-breadth. Next moment a Lancer behind Jack drove his lance through the Russian’s arm, and the fight was ended.
The two lines of Lancers galloped on along the sides of the wagons, slashing and thrusting at the Cossacks. These seemed paralysed by the very audacity of the attack, and galloped off, pursued by the victorious Lancers till Cornet Leland ordered Jack to sound the recall. Then the men, puffed with their exertions, came trotting back.
The wretchedaraba[1]drivers were on their knees begging for mercy, expecting every moment to be pierced by the long lances. When they found that they were kindly treated they grovelled on the ground, which spoke volumes for the fashion in which the Russians had treated them.
The total capture was forty-two wagons loaded with provisions; some drawn by two horses, some by three or four. Sir George was delighted with the capture, and the handful of Lancers returned in great spirits, being greeted with cheers from the troops who had already assembled on the beach.
No other cavalry had been landed; and, as Jack’s troop off-saddled, Barrymore said, ‘What did you think of your first skirmish, Jack?’
‘I thought it was fine fun,’ replied Jack, ‘and I hope I shall see more such.’
‘I don’t think it would have been quite such fun for you, Jack,’ said Pearson, who had overheard the remark, ‘if I hadn’t been just behind you and skewered that snub-nosed Cossack officer with my lance. I fancy if he had got another cut in at you you would have lost the number of your mess to-night.’
‘Then my grateful thanks are due to you,’ said Jack; and they fell to eating their evening meal.
The sky had got very black and the wind moaned in fitful gusts. The men had been landed without tents or baggage of any kind, and they had to bivouac on the bare ground. The rain fell in torrents, and in their thin uniforms the men were soon drenched to the skin. Besides which, the night was wretchedly cold, with a wind that seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of their bones. Grumbling was heard on all sides, mingled, alas! with the groans of poor fellows who, thoroughly ill and weakened from their long stay at the camps of Aladyn and Devna, grew rapidly worse during the exposure of that terrible night, and who ere long had met that most inglorious of soldiers’ fates, death by disease.
Jack tried several times to sleep; but each time he awoke, wet and shivering, to find himself lying in a pool of water. At last he got up and walked about, passing the remainder of the night nestling close to Dainty, who was fully as uncomfortable as was her master.