[image]"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!""You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a
ring fence. It is for you to make your choice, and at once,
between surrender and—annihilation."Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered,
the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around
him. At the end of the drive his men could be seen
rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he
saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed,
and with all the advantage of position. The sun,
breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the
distance, he could not be expected to recognize as
bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements
the premises had afforded. At a little distance down the
road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined
the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body.
Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow
trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two
Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and
ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of
the door. The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse
up on its haunches at the road end of the drive."The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with
a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force
of the enemy. We cannot estimate their numbers; they
keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their
fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink
of the canal. The lowness of the water and the height
of the bank showed at a glance that any attempt to swim
his horses across would be disastrous; they could never
scramble up the opposite side. The men might cross and
crawl up, but a moment's reflection showed what the fate
of a small body of men would be, retreating on foot through
a hostile country. The colonel looked down the road;
the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts. He
had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well
that the peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell
into their power. Wheeling round, he for the first time
caught sight of the two Dutch soldiers standing behind
Harry on the steps of the house. This seemed to bring
home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a
curse he walked his horse slowly up the avenue. Harry
came forward to meet the scowling officer."It is the fortune of war, Monsieur. I see you have
chosen the wiser course. You surrender to superior
numbers. I am authorized by my general to accept your
surrender. You will receive honourable treatment; he
knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the
peasants——"The colonel tried to smile."I am concerned—I say it frankly—for the safety of my
men. With your troops,"—he shrugged—"we might
take our chance; but your peasants, your burghers—parbleu! we
know them; they are savages, they are tigers.
To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my
sword?""Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry
Rochester, an Englishman at present in the—in the
Dutch service; ultimately to General van Santen, to
whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few
minutes. Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your
men to ride up the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in
front of the house, and fasten their horses to the garden
palings behind. Sergeant," he added, turning to one of
the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and
acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel——""Baron von Schummelpincken.""That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered.
Send a dozen men to take charge of the horses. In twenty
minutes we shall be in camp."CHAPTER XIThe Battle of LindendaalA Hitch—A Charge in Flank—Irregular Warfare—Called
Off—A Suggestion—Compliments—Thanks—Adieux—Luck—After
the Fair—A TriumphTo his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did
his best to put a good face on the predicament in which he
found himself. He rode back to his men to inform them
of the arrangement. The moment he had gone, Adèle de
Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement."Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what
the uproar, the firing, means; shall I tell him?""As you please, Mademoiselle.""It is as you please, Monsieur.""The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle.""I will say nothing, Monsieur." She went into the
house.The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind,
through a gate in the wall, into the orchard and wood.
In a few minutes he reappeared with his comrades, who
came at a trot towards the house. Their pace was
leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at
this moment was half-way up the avenue at the head of his
troops, might have noticed that the horses' flanks were
heaving violently. The men had in fact galloped at full
speed from the horns of the position in obedience to the
sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response
to a suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his
way after them. Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw
up in line at right angles to the house."Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring
me one of the dragoons' horses."He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the
avenue. Sherry stood by his side at the nearer end of
the line of dragoons.The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came
to Harry and handed him his sword. Harry politely
returned it, a compliment which the officer courteously
acknowledged."Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement?
Your men will pile arms in front of the house, file
off to right and left, tie their horses to the palings, then
pass round on foot to the rear of the house.""Certainly, Monsieur."Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two
up the drive and did his bidding with the precision of
automata. Events had crowded so thickly that he had scarcely
had time to think; but now he could hardly sit still on his
horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole scene
over. Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes;
his arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in
opposite directions was a precaution to divide the force; they
began to pass behind the house one by one. About half
of the troop had thus piled their arms and fastened their
horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first note
of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself
that almost by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch
chimes was ended his ruse would have been completely
successful, when a loud voice was heard from the road."Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants
and burghers. It is a trick, a trick!"There was an instant halt. Harry's heart was in his
mouth; Sherebiah muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties
now!" The colonel, his face aflame, spurred his horse
from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing his
sword, vociferated:"A moi! à moi!"For a moment Harry felt that all was lost. But only
for a moment, for in that instant he saw that with his
handful of men in line he had the advantage of the troopers
debouching two by two from the balustraded drive.
Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!"
and dashed straight at the enemy. It was in the nick of
time. A few seconds later they would have been ready;
at this precise moment they were awkwardly placed. Half
a dozen men of the nearer file were leading their horses
towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted
men were approaching from the drive, and eight files
presented their flank to Harry's little force of ten. As he
charged, the dismounted men scattered like hares before
him, and the sixteen armed troopers had barely time to
wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his
Dutchmen were upon them. All the advantage of impetus
and direct attack was with the Dutch. Harry, grasping
his sword, came full tilt upon a burly Alsatian. Almost
before he had realized it he had passed over the dragoon
and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the
man behind, had shortened his arm and thrust him through
the shoulder. The man dropped his sabre and fell from
his horse, which wheeled round and plunged madly through
the dismounted men on the farther side.In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing
his horse up on its haunches, wrenched it round so that he
might take stock of the new situation. He found that
the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck close to him,
and with the readiness of old campaigners were already
wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy. A dozen
men were on the ground, including the portly colonel;
several horses were careering wildly through the small
open space, impeding the movements of the dismounted
men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of
the porch. The French troopers were still filing up the
drive, but the sudden uproar had startled the horses. The
riders were too much occupied with their steeds and too
closely packed to make effective use of their pistols; the
one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one was hurt.
But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to
charge again and again until the peasants, summoned by
the noise of the fray, could come to his assistance. It was
fortunate that the remainder of the enemy's troop could
only debouch two by two from the drive; the stone
balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying
until they entered the open space in front of the house.
Two horses that had been rolled over near the entrance to
the drive were plunging and kicking, hindering the advance
of the leading troopers, who were now being pressed by
the men behind. Once more the little band of Dutchmen
hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and
with the same result, though Harry was instinctively
aware, when he again emerged from the mellay, that his
followers were fewer in number. Among them, however,
he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a
sword and pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from
the palings, and was comporting himself as though, so far
from being a man of peace, he had as much experience of
warfare as any trooper present. Two of Madame de
Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and
were holding at bay a group of the disarmed enemy who
hovered round, trying to dash in and recover their arms.Harry saw little of this, however. He wheeled his horse
once more to repeat the charge. He was followed now by
only six men; at least a dozen fresh troopers had debouched
from the drive, but, like their comrades, they had not time
to form before the dauntless seven were upon them. The
odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting
through; the rest were checked. Then ensued a series of
fierce duels, the little group of Dutch being broken up and
driven back by the weight of the files pressing through as
rapidly as they might into the open space. Harry, engaged
with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the
game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and
thrusting; his opponent, fresh to the fight, closed with
him, leant over his saddle, and tried to grip him by the
throat. At this moment there was a fierce shout, followed
by a perfect babel of cries. The trooper fell from his
horse, transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword;
and when Harry after a few seconds was able once more
to take in what was happening, he saw the place thick
with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the
enemy from both balustrades. Some had leapt on to the
coping and were dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and
their horses with sticks, hooks, scythes, and all kinds of
strange implements; others were jabbing through the
interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting,
felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance.
A panic seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted
to the stables behind the house and barricaded themselves
there; the last files of the dragoons threw down their arms
and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah, Harry
bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his
lungs, to hold their hands.A lull succeeded the turmoil. A crowd of the Dutch
were hastening towards the stables to burst open the
doors and make short work of the men sheltered there.
To them Harry galloped up."Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van
Santen. The victory is ours. We must await the general's
orders."The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by
their young leader's mien, stood in sullen silence. Harry
rode back to the opening of the drive, stationed two of
the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed the colonel, who,
with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant against
the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage."Monsieur, 'twas not well done. Your parole was given.
But you are hurt; go to the house—you will find tendance
there."At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on
the scene, galloping up from behind the house. Wheeling
his horse in some surprise, Harry found himself face to
face with Madame de Vaudrey's neighbour, Monsieur de
Polignac. He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth was
twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in
Madame de Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared."Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried."As you see, Monsieur—a skirmish," replied Harry.
"We have captured a raiding-party—and doubtless saved
your house from the flames.""But—but—do you not see your peril? You are not a
soldier; these men are not soldiers, the most of them; to
wage war is for you quite irregular; if caught by the
French—and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a general
advance in this direction—you will all be hanged.""I will take my chance of that," said Harry. "I thank
you, nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur.""Bah! I counsel you to release your prisoners—without
arms, it is understood—and send them back to their lines.""That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur.
Would you care to repeat your advice to him?"Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to
speak, thought better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse,
galloped away.The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly
from its appearance a short half-hour before. Thirty men,
of whom twenty-four were French, lay killed or wounded,
with a few horses. The stone balustrades were broken in
several places; the flower-beds were trampled; the gravel
was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords, scabbards,
pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground."Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry. "Take the
wounded to the outbuildings and attend to them; there is
a doctor in the house. A dozen of you take arms from
the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock them up in
the stables. Sherebiah, I leave you in charge."Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents,
Harry followed the wounded colonel into the house."Monsieur," said Adèle, meeting him, "the general
insists on seeing you. He was with difficulty restrained
from rising and taking part in the fray. You are weary;
a cup of wine will refresh you."Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him.
Then he followed her into the dining-room. The general
frowned when he saw him."I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily."This is he, Monsieur," said Ad [image]"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!" [image] [image] "Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!" "You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a
ring fence. It is for you to make your choice, and at once,
between surrender and—annihilation." Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered,
the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around
him. At the end of the drive his men could be seen
rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he
saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed,
and with all the advantage of position. The sun,
breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the
distance, he could not be expected to recognize as
bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements
the premises had afforded. At a little distance down the
road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined
the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body.
Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow
trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two
Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and
ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of
the door. The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse
up on its haunches at the road end of the drive. "The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with
a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force
of the enemy. We cannot estimate their numbers; they
keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their
fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred." Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink
of the canal. The lowness of the water and the height
of the bank showed at a glance that any attempt to swim
his horses across would be disastrous; they could never
scramble up the opposite side. The men might cross and
crawl up, but a moment's reflection showed what the fate
of a small body of men would be, retreating on foot through
a hostile country. The colonel looked down the road;
the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts. He
had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well
that the peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell
into their power. Wheeling round, he for the first time
caught sight of the two Dutch soldiers standing behind
Harry on the steps of the house. This seemed to bring
home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a
curse he walked his horse slowly up the avenue. Harry
came forward to meet the scowling officer. "It is the fortune of war, Monsieur. I see you have
chosen the wiser course. You surrender to superior
numbers. I am authorized by my general to accept your
surrender. You will receive honourable treatment; he
knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the
peasants——" The colonel tried to smile. "I am concerned—I say it frankly—for the safety of my
men. With your troops,"—he shrugged—"we might
take our chance; but your peasants, your burghers—parbleu! we
know them; they are savages, they are tigers.
To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my
sword?" "Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry
Rochester, an Englishman at present in the—in the
Dutch service; ultimately to General van Santen, to
whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few
minutes. Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your
men to ride up the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in
front of the house, and fasten their horses to the garden
palings behind. Sergeant," he added, turning to one of
the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and
acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel——" "Baron von Schummelpincken." "That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered.
Send a dozen men to take charge of the horses. In twenty
minutes we shall be in camp." CHAPTER XI The Battle of Lindendaal A Hitch—A Charge in Flank—Irregular Warfare—Called
Off—A Suggestion—Compliments—Thanks—Adieux—Luck—After
the Fair—A Triumph To his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did
his best to put a good face on the predicament in which he
found himself. He rode back to his men to inform them
of the arrangement. The moment he had gone, Adèle de
Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement. "Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what
the uproar, the firing, means; shall I tell him?" "As you please, Mademoiselle." "It is as you please, Monsieur." "The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle." "I will say nothing, Monsieur." She went into the
house. The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind,
through a gate in the wall, into the orchard and wood.
In a few minutes he reappeared with his comrades, who
came at a trot towards the house. Their pace was
leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at
this moment was half-way up the avenue at the head of his
troops, might have noticed that the horses' flanks were
heaving violently. The men had in fact galloped at full
speed from the horns of the position in obedience to the
sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response
to a suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his
way after them. Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw
up in line at right angles to the house. "Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring
me one of the dragoons' horses." He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the
avenue. Sherry stood by his side at the nearer end of
the line of dragoons. The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came
to Harry and handed him his sword. Harry politely
returned it, a compliment which the officer courteously
acknowledged. "Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement?
Your men will pile arms in front of the house, file
off to right and left, tie their horses to the palings, then
pass round on foot to the rear of the house." "Certainly, Monsieur." Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two
up the drive and did his bidding with the precision of
automata. Events had crowded so thickly that he had scarcely
had time to think; but now he could hardly sit still on his
horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole scene
over. Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes;
his arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in
opposite directions was a precaution to divide the force; they
began to pass behind the house one by one. About half
of the troop had thus piled their arms and fastened their
horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first note
of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself
that almost by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch
chimes was ended his ruse would have been completely
successful, when a loud voice was heard from the road. "Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants
and burghers. It is a trick, a trick!" There was an instant halt. Harry's heart was in his
mouth; Sherebiah muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties
now!" The colonel, his face aflame, spurred his horse
from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing his
sword, vociferated: "A moi! à moi!" For a moment Harry felt that all was lost. But only
for a moment, for in that instant he saw that with his
handful of men in line he had the advantage of the troopers
debouching two by two from the balustraded drive.
Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!"
and dashed straight at the enemy. It was in the nick of
time. A few seconds later they would have been ready;
at this precise moment they were awkwardly placed. Half
a dozen men of the nearer file were leading their horses
towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted
men were approaching from the drive, and eight files
presented their flank to Harry's little force of ten. As he
charged, the dismounted men scattered like hares before
him, and the sixteen armed troopers had barely time to
wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his
Dutchmen were upon them. All the advantage of impetus
and direct attack was with the Dutch. Harry, grasping
his sword, came full tilt upon a burly Alsatian. Almost
before he had realized it he had passed over the dragoon
and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the
man behind, had shortened his arm and thrust him through
the shoulder. The man dropped his sabre and fell from
his horse, which wheeled round and plunged madly through
the dismounted men on the farther side. In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing
his horse up on its haunches, wrenched it round so that he
might take stock of the new situation. He found that
the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck close to him,
and with the readiness of old campaigners were already
wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy. A dozen
men were on the ground, including the portly colonel;
several horses were careering wildly through the small
open space, impeding the movements of the dismounted
men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of
the porch. The French troopers were still filing up the
drive, but the sudden uproar had startled the horses. The
riders were too much occupied with their steeds and too
closely packed to make effective use of their pistols; the
one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one was hurt.
But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to
charge again and again until the peasants, summoned by
the noise of the fray, could come to his assistance. It was
fortunate that the remainder of the enemy's troop could
only debouch two by two from the drive; the stone
balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying
until they entered the open space in front of the house.
Two horses that had been rolled over near the entrance to
the drive were plunging and kicking, hindering the advance
of the leading troopers, who were now being pressed by
the men behind. Once more the little band of Dutchmen
hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and
with the same result, though Harry was instinctively
aware, when he again emerged from the mellay, that his
followers were fewer in number. Among them, however,
he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a
sword and pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from
the palings, and was comporting himself as though, so far
from being a man of peace, he had as much experience of
warfare as any trooper present. Two of Madame de
Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and
were holding at bay a group of the disarmed enemy who
hovered round, trying to dash in and recover their arms. Harry saw little of this, however. He wheeled his horse
once more to repeat the charge. He was followed now by
only six men; at least a dozen fresh troopers had debouched
from the drive, but, like their comrades, they had not time
to form before the dauntless seven were upon them. The
odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting
through; the rest were checked. Then ensued a series of
fierce duels, the little group of Dutch being broken up and
driven back by the weight of the files pressing through as
rapidly as they might into the open space. Harry, engaged
with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the
game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and
thrusting; his opponent, fresh to the fight, closed with
him, leant over his saddle, and tried to grip him by the
throat. At this moment there was a fierce shout, followed
by a perfect babel of cries. The trooper fell from his
horse, transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword;
and when Harry after a few seconds was able once more
to take in what was happening, he saw the place thick
with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the
enemy from both balustrades. Some had leapt on to the
coping and were dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and
their horses with sticks, hooks, scythes, and all kinds of
strange implements; others were jabbing through the
interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting,
felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance.
A panic seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted
to the stables behind the house and barricaded themselves
there; the last files of the dragoons threw down their arms
and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah, Harry
bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his
lungs, to hold their hands. A lull succeeded the turmoil. A crowd of the Dutch
were hastening towards the stables to burst open the
doors and make short work of the men sheltered there.
To them Harry galloped up. "Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van
Santen. The victory is ours. We must await the general's
orders." The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by
their young leader's mien, stood in sullen silence. Harry
rode back to the opening of the drive, stationed two of
the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed the colonel, who,
with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant against
the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage. "Monsieur, 'twas not well done. Your parole was given.
But you are hurt; go to the house—you will find tendance
there." At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on
the scene, galloping up from behind the house. Wheeling
his horse in some surprise, Harry found himself face to
face with Madame de Vaudrey's neighbour, Monsieur de
Polignac. He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth was
twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in
Madame de Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared. "Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried. "As you see, Monsieur—a skirmish," replied Harry.
"We have captured a raiding-party—and doubtless saved
your house from the flames." "But—but—do you not see your peril? You are not a
soldier; these men are not soldiers, the most of them; to
wage war is for you quite irregular; if caught by the
French—and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a general
advance in this direction—you will all be hanged." "I will take my chance of that," said Harry. "I thank
you, nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur." "Bah! I counsel you to release your prisoners—without
arms, it is understood—and send them back to their lines." "That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur.
Would you care to repeat your advice to him?" Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to
speak, thought better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse,
galloped away. The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly
from its appearance a short half-hour before. Thirty men,
of whom twenty-four were French, lay killed or wounded,
with a few horses. The stone balustrades were broken in
several places; the flower-beds were trampled; the gravel
was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords, scabbards,
pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground. "Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry. "Take the
wounded to the outbuildings and attend to them; there is
a doctor in the house. A dozen of you take arms from
the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock them up in
the stables. Sherebiah, I leave you in charge." Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents,
Harry followed the wounded colonel into the house. "Monsieur," said Adèle, meeting him, "the general
insists on seeing you. He was with difficulty restrained
from rising and taking part in the fray. You are weary;
a cup of wine will refresh you." Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him.
Then he followed her into the dining-room. The general
frowned when he saw him. "I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily. "This is he, Monsieur," said Ad "You, Monsieur!—Mademoiselle, a youth, a boy—absurd!" "It has been my good fortune, Monsieur," said Harry. The general looked blank with astonishment. He half-raised
himself on his cushions, sinking back with a groan. "They would tell me nothing, save that the French were
discomfited. Explain, from the beginning." Harry gave a rapid narrative of the late events. He
spoke always of "we", seeming to include Adèle, the
general himself, and even Madame de Vaudrey, who had
joined them, among those who had planned the ruse.
Every now and then the general broke into his story with
exclamations of surprise and pleasure and praise. "A daring, a clever scheme," he said as Harry concluded.
"You are an Englishman, they tell me; a soldier,
I presume?" "No, Monsieur le General, I have not that honour." "That is the army's loss. You have shown great
quickness, great skill, and no less courage. I compliment
you, Monsieur." "I did what I could, of course, Monsieur; but things
would have ended very differently but for the peasants'
bold attack at the last." "Bah! I know them; they would have done nothing
without a leader, but with a leader they will fight—yes,
and well. I doubt whether, in point of military honour,
the French colonel—whom I will tax on the subject
presently—did right to reassume command after he had
yielded his sword; still, much may be forgiven him;
naturally he was chagrined and perturbed; and he is
moreover wounded, as I hear." The general spoke with difficulty; he was very weak. "You have saved your convoy; that is well. You will
wish to take it to Breda. I fear I cannot move. Madame
la Comtesse, I shall be your patient for a time——" "Monsieur, I am honoured," said the lady. "But the prisoners must be carried to Breda also.
Monsieur, that duty—that honour—must be yours. You
have laid many under an obligation: Mynheer Grootz,
your excellent employer; the garrison at Breda; Madame
la Comtesse, whose house you have saved; and
myself—especially myself, for without doubt you preserved me
from capture, and in my wounded state capture might
very well have finished me." "I hope for your speedy recovery, Monsieur." "I thank you. Now, you will take six of my troopers
with you; armed burghers will serve for the remainder of
your escort. I marvel that help has not ere this reached
us from Breda; you will report to my aide-de-camp, whom
you will doubtless meet there or on the road. Your name,
Monsieur, is——" "Harry Rochester, Monsieur." "Mademoiselle will note it down for me. My friend
Mynheer Grootz will have a visit from me. I am
fatigued; Mademoiselle, a little cordial from your fair
hand. Monsieur, I bid you farewell." Harry bowed and left the room, tingling with pleasure
at the general's praise. He went to the reception-room
and gladly stretched his weary limbs on a low couch there.
Madame de Vaudrey followed him. "How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "I do thank
you, from my heart, a thousand times. How brave! I
trembled, I wept when I heard the horrid sounds; I could
not look; Adèle looked and told me; I thought you
would be killed; I was overcome, I could only pray. Oh!
Monsieur, what can I say? I can say nothing; I can
only—yes; tiens! I kiss you." At another time Harry might have been embarrassed;
he was now so tired that he could but accept passively all
the motherly cares lavished on him by the comtesse. She
brought him food with her own hands, smoothed his hair,
begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her
admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of
her late husband's to replace his own torn garment.
Harry stood it all as long as he could; at last, parrying
another kiss, he sprang up and declared it was time he
set off with his prisoners and the convoy. The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five.
The remainder were too badly wounded to be
moved. Gathering his escort, he had the stable door
unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah
to marshal the convoy. All was at length ready. It was
half-past one when he stood at the door to take leave of
Madame de Vaudrey. "Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said. "Au revoir!—that
is what I mean. You will come and see us again?" "Nothing would delight me more, Madame." "And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for
the tulip bulb; you will remember that? and yourself take
the thanks of a mother and daughter. Adèle!" she
called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing. Come and
bid him farewell." "Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adèle, coming forward. "I
add my thanks to Mamma's for the great service you have
done us." "I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid." A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl's face; then,
with a return to her wonted coldness, she said: "You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur. But I see there
are still knights-errant in the world. Adieu!" There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey's eyes as she
put her arms up and kissed Harry on the cheek. He
bowed over her hand, then sprang on to the horse of one
of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line of
wagons and men already moving up the road. As he
reached them he had the impulse to turn for a last look
at the chateau. The turret was just visible above the
tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure motionless. "One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose,"
he thought. Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adèle who
stood there watching until he was out of sight. "What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his
sturdy henchman as they rode side by side. "Ay sure, Master Harry, 'tis better to be born lucky
nor rich. But speaken for myself, I doan't zackly see
there be much luck about it." "Oh yes! there is. 'Twas merely luck that Mynheer
Grootz had to send me this way; mere luck that he had
promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere luck that the
French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck
that the place lent itself so easily to a trick——" "Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a
headpiece; mere luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit
a horse; mere luck that 'ee've got sojer's blood a-rompen
through your veins. Daze me, if all that be luck—well,
Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal
pies at all." "Well, well, Sherry! But confess, 'twas odd to come
upon Captain Aglionby again, and in that house; what do
you say to that?" "Say! I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and
we'll ha' to keep an eye on the villain." "I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas
well done, Sherry, to haul them down the stairs as
you did. What has become of the captain to-day, I
wonder?" "Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres. I knows
Cap'n, ay, I do." From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards
the prisoners wore a crest-fallen air. Save for the
colonel and his subalterns they all marched on foot, the
horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often seen at
English country fairs. They had been marching for about
an hour when the head of the convoy met General van
Santen's aide-de-camp galloping at breakneck speed.
He reined up when he noticed soldiers among the men.
Harry cantered to his side. Explanations were rapidly
exchanged. The Dutchman laughed heartily when he
heard how the enemy had been fooled. "To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have
thought the general capable of such a stratagem." "Indeed!" said Harry. "I wish I had been there. It would have been more
fitting that I should take the prisoners to Breda than you,
a sutler, I suppose you call yourself." "I don't think it necessary to call anybody names,
Mynheer, myself least of all. The general expected
assistance; why has it not accompanied you, Mynheer?" The officer explained that on reaching Breda he had
found that practically the whole garrison was engaged in
a reconnaissance in force towards Antwerp, where General
de Bedmar was showing signs of activity that gave the
confederate generals some concern. Only two troops of
horse had been retained in the town, and these had strict
orders not to leave the place. Infantry would be of little
use against the French raiders, and indeed it was
impossible that they should reach Madame de Vaudrey's
house in time. The aide-de-camp had been accordingly
provided with a fresh mount and sent on to the main
body, from which a squadron had at once been detached.
But the corps, when he overtook it, was a good ten miles
beyond Breda, and the relief squadron could not start for
the Helmund road until the afternoon. It was now some
twenty minutes behind the aide-de-camp, who had ridden
forward to convey to the general the news of the coming
reinforcement. He continued his journey, and Harry cantered on to
overtake the convoy, which had moved on while the
conversation took place. Some minutes later a cloud of dust
in the distance heralded the approaching force. When the
two bodies met, Harry had reluctantly to tell his story over
again. The commander of the squadron pressed him for
more details than the general's aide-de-camp had done,
and being a shrewd man he soon put two and two together. "The honour of the day is yours, my friend," he said
to Harry, "and by my soul you shall ride into Breda at
the head of the column." Harry protested; he did not relish the idea of heading
a sort of circus procession. But the Dutchman insisted;
General van Santen had laid the duty upon Harry, and he
saw no reason to relieve him of it. He sent a couple of
his troopers on in advance to announce the event. Thus it
happened that when, in the dusk, Harry headed his convoy
through the gates, he was met by a great concourse of the
populace, men, women, and children huzzaing and waving
hats and kerchiefs with vast enthusiasm. All the pretty
girls of the town, in their quaint bonnets and short skirts,
pressed around the horse to see the young Englishman,
and a comical little Dutch boy, with a toy drum slung
over his shoulder, placed himself in front of Harry's horse
and proudly tattooed him through the streets to the
burgomaster's house. The burgomaster himself made a very
flowery speech of congratulation, to which Harry returned
the best acknowledgment he could; and he was heartily
glad when the tide of compliments ebbed and he had
leisure to make formal delivery of his prisoners. He had not yet escaped, however. He was resting
in his inn when a messenger entered with an invitation
to an impromptu banquet organized at the burgomaster's.
In vain Harry pleaded that he was in no trim for fine
company. The burgomaster's own tailor undertook to
make him presentable; he had to sit through a long Dutch
feast and respond to the toast of his health. Even then his
labours were not ended. After the banquet the company
adjourned to the council chamber, where all the beauty
of the town was assembled. Harry had to lead off the
dance with the burgomaster's wife, a stout vrouw of
forty-five years and fifteen stone. He did his duty manfully,
dancing the stately dances of the day with unflagging
spirit, and winning universal praise by the modesty with
which he wore his honours. The assembly broke up at
a late hour; Harry was dog-tired, and went to bed
convinced that it was mighty hard work to be a popular hero. CHAPTER XII Harry is Discharged Rheum and Rum—Gall—Without Ceremony—A Question of
Precedence—Res Angustae—The Raw—To
Scheveningen—Punctuality and Despatch—From the Dutch
Side—Temptation—Renunciation—Gretel—Misgivings "Atchew!—confusion! This pestilent country—atchew!—will
be the death of me. 'Tis one eternal—-atchew!—rheum!
Stap my vitals! I wish I were dead. Atchew! atchew!" Captain Aglionby sat in the topmost room of a high
house in one of the less savoury quarters of the Hague.
His nose was redder than ever; his cheeks more puffed;
his eyes looked like boiled oysters. A thick woollen
comforter swathed his neck. Though it was the height of
summer, a big log fire blazed in the hearth; window and
door were fast shut; and in a temperature of something
over eighty degrees the captain was doing his best,
according to his lights, to cure a cold. He was seated at a table drawn close to the fire. Upon
the table stood a bottle nearly empty, a beaker, a basin of
sugar, an inkhorn, a table-book of writing-paper, and a
sheath containing quills. A kettle sang on the fire. When
his sneezing fit was over, the captain poured the last of
his rum into the beaker, sugared it, filled up with boiling
water, and gulped half of the mixture into a throat inured
to fiery passengers. Water streamed from his eyes, and
his blotched brow broke into a profuse perspiration. He
wiped his face with a large red handkerchief, smacked his
lips, and, bending over the table, selected a quill. "Hang writing!" he muttered. "I never writ a letter
but I rued it. Atchew! And with this cursed cold!
Well, the sooner begun, the sooner done; so here's to it.
Atchew!" He cut his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began: "Mr. BARKLEY. Sir." It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that
the captain was not a practised penman. He wrote very
laboriously, frowning at every stroke, and licking his lips
often. Like most illiterate people, he repeated half aloud
the words as he wrote them, and being so unused to
giving visible expression to his thoughts, he commented
as he went along. He was never at a loss how to spell
a word, for in those days men spelt as they pleased, and
bad spelling might almost have been regarded as one of
the marks of a gentleman. "Sir. This will, I hope, finde you well. For myself, I am
afflicted [atchew!] with a voilent Rheum, the wch I feare will
turne to an inflamatn of the Longs. [Egad! that'll please the
old niggard!] I command the sarvices of the best Potticary
in the place, but finding his nostrums vain, for three dayes have
eate nought but Water Gruel. 'Tis said that Rumm is a speedie
Cure, but that I eschew. [Atchew!] My Hande shakes with
the feaver, & I shd not rite to you now had I not Surprizing
Nuse to give. You must knowe that, visitting at the house of
Mme de Vodray, where your he sarvant is ever an honour'd
guest, [that's worth fifty guineas to me!] what was my vaste
Amazement to finde there that yonge Cockerell H—— R——
swaggering it as one of the beste. It passes my wit to divine
how he escap'd from theMerrie Maide, & hope y may recover
the Passage Money, the wch methinks will be difficult. [Atchew!
He won't get a penny o't.] 'Tis passing strange the boy is
here, not lesse that he is acquaint with the Vodrays; & moreover
with him is my pestilent cozn S—— M——, of whom more hereafter,
'twill be easie to deal with him, whereto I have already
thingsin Traine. H—— R—— is employ'd with one Grootz,
a merchant of Substance, & one that hath large Contracks with
the confederate armies. The boy being out of yr way, y have
belike no further cause against him, & wd wish no further stepps
taken, comming & going is like at any time to Cooke his Goose,
but if I mistake in this 'twould be well to sende 100 Guineas by
the same Hande as wont, & I wd endevour to bring the matter to
a safe and speedie End, in wch case I wd make bold to aske for a
further Summe of 200 Guineas for to requite my Zeale in the
sarvice of my honour'd Frende & Patron." "Atchew! Writing is plaguily dry work," he muttered,
breaking off at this point, "and the bottle's empty." He tugged at a bell-pull, and resumed his letter. "'Twill be no light Taske, seeing the yonge man hath captured
of late a Partie of above 100 French in an Affaire near Breda, the
wch I doubte not will give him some Consekence with the Dutch
no less than himselfe, of the wch Affaire 'tis like an Account will
be printed in theCourant. [Sure 'twill give Nick a start.] I
must add that Living isverie Dearehere. For my Creditt sake
and the furtherance of youre Ends, I have hired a Magnifficent
Appartment, for the wch I have to paye a sweete Rent. Hence it
is verie nessessarie I have the Guineas without delai. Waiting
yr commands & so subscribe myself yr ever humble and obediant RALPH AGLIONBY, Captain." "Atchew! There, 'tis done, and writ fair." He flung
his pen on the table. "And I'd fain know what the squire
has against the knave; 'tis more than pique, I promise
you. Where's Simmons, confound him!" He sanded the wet paper, folded it, sealed it with yellow
wax, and wrote the superscription: nr Salisbury, England This done, he tugged again at the bell-pull, blew his nose
with sounding ferocity, and stuck his legs into the hearth
with the air of a man who had successfully achieved a
stupendous task. The door opened, and John Simmons entered. "Hang you, sirrah! why don't you answer my bell at
the very moment, sir? Go get me a bottle of rum." Simmons, pallid, frowsy, scared-looking, stood hesitating
in the doorway. "Are you deaf, clodpoll?" roared the captain. "A
bottle of rum, and instantly!" "Yes, Captain, and the—and the money, sir?" "The money, you dog! Where is the crown-piece I
gave you this morning?" "I had to buy the dinner, sir, and——" "Zounds! You'll answer me, will you? You're the
most pestilent knave man ever had to serve him. 'Tis
money, money, all day with you. Would that Sherry
Minshull had left you to the hangman! Begone,
sirrah! and——" "Pardon!" said a voice in French from the door. "If
I am in the way——" "Come in, Monsieur," said Aglionby, springing to his
feet. "And you, booby, be off and do my bidding." Simmons vanished precipitately. Monsieur de Polignac
gasped as he entered the overheated room. "Phew! It would roast an ox." "Shut the door. I am nursing a pestilent rheum." "So it appears. You are in an ill humour, my friend;
I fear my news will not cheer you." "Spit it out and have done with it, then." "Well, this is it. A commission has been made out,
I hear, appointing your young Englishman a cornet in the
Anspach dragoons." "What young Englishman?" "The young man whom we met at Madame de Vaudrey's." The captain swore a hearty British oath. "Where learnt you that?" "A la bonne heure! It is true. I have it on authority
I cannot doubt. Van Santen pressed it; his influence
prevailed. There were several vacancies in the regiment; it
lost heavily in the action at Eckeren a few weeks ago.
This boy gets the senior cornetcy. We owe it to
ourselves, Monsieur le Capitaine, that the junior cornets get
an early step." "Peste! We do owe it to ourselves; or, I should rather
say, we owe it to yourself. For me, I have knocked about
the world too long to take umbrage easily; and look you,
Monsieur, my family, although gentle, indeed I may say
noble, cannot compare with yours in quartet-ings and such
fal-lals. I understand your sentiments; as you say,
something must be done." "And at once, for which end I have come to see you.
My position, as you perceive, is delicate; for myself, I
would seek a quarrel with the bantling and spit him on
my rapier without remorse. But affairs of state—you
understand me; that alters the case. I must not appear.
I propose to you this: to affront the boy, provoke him to
a duel; you a veteran, he a tyro; it will be a matter of
seconds. Voilà!" The captain gazed steadily at Polignac for a few
moments, then said: "Look you, Polignac, no man ever accused Ralph
Aglionby, late captain in the Preobrashenski Grenadiers, of
lack of courage—no man, that is to say, that lived to tell
of it. Had you made the proposition twenty years ago,
I should by this time have been half-way down the stairs
on the way to kill this young springald. But twenty
years make a difference. My courage is the same, look
you; but the years have enlarged my girth—and my
discretion. On the point of honour I am as sensitive as ever
I was, but I have learnt to have patience—and consideration.
Say I engage this peddling fool; what happens? I
kill him and baulk you of your revenge. Where are you,
my friend? Or suppose, by some vile contrivance, he kills
me; where am I? No, no, Monsieur; the right of place
belongs to you. Who am I, a broken soldier, a poor
unnecessary captain of grenadiers, to take precedence of
you?" "You have most admirable patience," sneered Polignac,
"and I am overwhelmed by your consideration. I thank
you, Monsieur le Capitaine, and bid you adieu." "Stay, my friend; why this haste? I have consideration,
as you say. Would the world be better for the loss
of you or me? are there not more ways of getting even
with a man than making one's self a target for his pistol
or a sheath for his sword? You remember Marillier, and
Aubin, eh? Sit down, and let us talk this over like
reasonable men." Polignac sat on one of the rickety chairs in silence. "Your memory is jogged, eh? You remember the dark
lane, and the light in the window, and——" "Enough!" exclaimed the other impatiently. "My
memory is as good as yours. This is different. I must
be circumspect. Were we in Paris—then! But here at
the Hague, I am not my own master; I have weightier
interests to consider. An incautious step, even a chance
word, may ruin a dynasty. My own life—I do not consider
it; but when one is playing for a crown one has duties,
responsibilities. If you see your way—well, I am not
one to dissuade you; and if a few guilders——" Aglionby's red eyes gleamed. "Well, Monsieur, as you put it so, I own 'tis in a
measure a question of money. In truth 'tis desperate hard
lines that I, who have ruffled it with the best and got drunk
with the Czar of Muscovy himself, should be so hard
driven as that I cannot offer due hospitality to a friend.
Look at this wretched lodging; was ever gentleman, by
no fault of his own, mark you, reduced to such straits!" Polignac, glancing at the mean furniture and the empty
bottle, agreeably assented, but concealed a smile. "Well," he said, "might I ask leave to send out for
a bottle of wine?" Aglionby jumped up with alacrity. "You say so? 'Tis the mark of a true friend." He pulled
hard at the bell-rope. "My man will be here instantly;
and, Monsieur, let it be sack—sack, as you love me." Simmons reappeared without delay, and was despatched
for a bottle of sack. With the energy of pleasurable
anticipation the captain pursued: "Now, my dear Polignac, mark—before attempting the
house 'tis well to poison the dog; aha! that is only my
way of putting it, eh?" "Of course. A figure of speech; but from the life!" Aglionby flung him a suspicious glance; at times he had
an uneasy feeling that Polignac was quizzing him. But
after a momentary pause he went on as before. "The dog in this case—and a low cur it is—is the
young cockerel's servant—the same that embraced you so
cordially at Madame de Vaudrey's. Ha! ha! I can relish
the comical side of it e'en though he embraced me
also!—and before the charming mademoiselle too!" He guffawed uproariously. He felt that he was now getting
tit for tat for Polignac's covert sneers, often rather
suspected than understood. But he was not a little startled
by the effect of his words and laughter. Polignac flushed
purple with rage; his mouth took a very decided twist
towards his left eye. Springing up suddenly he cried: "Morbleu, Monsieur, a truce to your pleasantries! and
keep the lady's name out of it, or by the——" "No offence, no offence, my dear fellow," interposed
the captain hastily. "I'm but a plain soldier—just an
honest, bluff, outspoken old campaigner; we blades don't
pick and choose our words like you fine gentlemen of the
courts; though in truth when I was in Russia my manners
were as good as the best." Polignac resumed his seat reluctantly without a word.
After a short, strained silence Aglionby went on: "The first thing, as I was saying, is to get this dog
out of the way. Burn him! he follows his master like a
shadow. The man removed, the rest is easy. A week
from now, and he shall lie his length in six feet of good
Dutch soil, or my name isn't Ralph Montacute Aglionby.
Leave it to me, Monsieur; there will be necessary
expenses; say fifty guilders, a small sum, and at one
time——" "Send to my chambers; you shall have the money.
And by the way, here is a packet for Captain Rudge of
theSkylark. He sails with this evening's tide. Bid him
have the greatest care of it; should he run into danger he
must destroy it.—It is arranged, then? I shall hear from
you?" "Within a week, on the word of a gentleman." "Then for the time, adieu!" When Polignac had gone, Aglionby looked curiously at
the packet entrusted to him. The address ran:
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