CHAPTER VII.A FIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS."George!"I had not been in bed an hour, and it was quite dark, when Rakoczy's voice wakened me from a sound sleep."Turn out and dress quickly," he continued. "We are ordered to Waitzen; the men are under arms.""All right," I replied sleepily, and tumbling out grazed my shins against an iron box."Drawn blood already?" Rakoczy queried with a laugh. "What a desperate fellow you are!" and as he went away I heard him still chuckling to himself.After a vain attempt to dress in the dark, I procured a light, and having made a hasty toilet hastened to the officers' messroom.Several men were already there, scalding their throats with boiling coffee, and eating the next two or three meals before starting--a very good plan, too, as experience soon taught us.As Rakoczy rightly said, on a campaign there is nothing like being a day in advance of your proper meals. Passing me a cup of steaming coffee and pointing to the eatables, he exclaimed, "Fall to, Botskay. There's no ceremony this morning.""Morning?" cried a youngster who, having burned his throat, was glad to give vent to his ill-humour. "You don't call this morning? Why, I hadn't got to sleep before they woke me up again. Why didn't they tell us before, and save us the trouble of tumbling in?""Don't know," replied Rakoczy innocently. "Ask some one else."We were laughing at Rakoczy's pretended simplicity, when another man, coming in, said,--"Jolly, this, isn't it? It's as black as pitch outside, and hailstones the size of walnuts are falling. Anybody know what it's all about?""Which? The hailstones or the blackness?" asked Rakoczy."This sudden turn-out. A pity we hadn't stayed at Szondi's a couple of hours later.""I heard a rumour that Görgei had sent a messenger to say he was retreating with the Austrians on his heels.""He should imitate the horses and kick out behind.""I expect he will show fight at Ofen.""With a crowd of peasants? Not likely. His best plan is to fall back.""What an oversight that the general didn't put us on his staff!" said Rakoczy. "We could have given him a lot of useful information.""There's the bugle, gentlemen! Ach!" as some one opened the door; "what a blast!"I wrapped my mantle round me closely, took another pull at the hot coffee, and went into the barrack-yard.Two or three hundred men were drawn up in waiting. They were to convoy a huge store of food and ammunition to Waitzen.Rather to my disgust, I found that Rakoczy and I were to look after the carts, and a wretched time of it we had.For several hours we trudged along in the blackness of the night, while the hailstorm beat down upon us in fury.The roads were execrable, and frequently we were compelled to stop while the teamsters got their animals out of the holes into which they stumbled.This first spell of active service was hardly to my liking, and even upon reaching Waitzen things were very little better.However, a merry heart is a golden cure for most ills, and it was not easy to be miserable where Rakoczy was.He laughed at everything, found amusement in the storm, made light of the bitter cold, professed that half a dinner was better than a full one, and that he preferred to sleep on the floor, because there was no chance of falling out of bed.After waiting two days at Waitzen we learned that Görgei, by a sharp manoeuvre, had joined hands with Perczel, and that the Austrians were marching into Pesth.Many of us had wondered at being sent with stores to Waitzen, but now we began to understand something of our leader's foresight.Leaving the main army to retreat behind the Theiss, Görgei, making a great show with his scanty numbers, turned north to join us, and this drew the bulk of the Austrians on his own track.Amongst the first of the advance-guard to arrive at Waitzen was my brother Stephen; and though he had little leisure for conversation, the meeting did us both good.He was looking a trifle thinner, but in good health, and related with much glee his experiences with the general. According to his account, he lived almost entirely in the saddle, slept at odd times where he could, ate what he could pick up, and had not once taken off his clothes since we left him.Of the general he spoke enthusiastically."Görgei never gets tired," he said. "He is made of iron, and can do without sleep. As to riding, I never saw any one like him. After a day's hard work he'll jump into the saddle and ride to the outposts at full gallop on a pitch-dark night and in the stormiest weather. At first I used to ache in every muscle, but I'm getting used to it. Now I'm off to Kremnitz."For several days longer we remained at Waitzen picking up recruits from the north, and then moved on towards Kremnitz.Rakoczy and I had been regularly appointed as major and lieutenant in the 9th Honved regiment, the men of which were well equipped and in fairly good spirits.The recruits had brought our numbers up to about twenty thousand; and, leaving Kremnitz, we marched in a south-west direction to make Windischgratz believe we were striking at Vienna. In this we succeeded, and thus prevented the Austrian general from crushing our main army, then in full retreat to Debreczin, behind the Theiss.Having accomplished his object, Görgei once more broke fresh ground, and led us into the mountains, in order to draw off a part of the Austrian force, and, by a round-about route, to rejoin the principal army.I was certainly serving a rough apprenticeship to the trade of war.The roads were covered with ice, the valleys were piled with snow through which we had to force a passage, sometimes being sunk in it almost to our arm-pits; and as we stumbled along, huge avalanches thundered down the rocky cliffs that on either side overhung our path.The majority of the soldiers, having newly joined, lost their spirits, which made the officers' work much harder; but we kept them going somehow, and struggled up and through the narrow defiles with the Austrians in our rear, and, for aught we knew, in front as well.At the beginning of the last week in January, the frost broke up quite suddenly, and the narrow valleys were flooded by water, which swept through the gorges, carrying with it great pieces of floating ice.As our regiment led the way, we were the first to bear the brunt of this new danger."Steady, men!" cried Rakoczy. "Plant your feet firmly on the ground and lock arms, or you'll be carried away."The men responded instantly, but for a long time they could make no headway against the torrent.Again and again we led them forward, but each time it was only for a few paces.The noise of the rushing waters, the blows from detached pieces of ice, the difficulty of securing a foothold, told on the men's nerves, and kept them from fronting the danger.The colonel stormed, Rakoczy begged and prayed, taunted them with cowardice, mocked at their fears, and called them frightened children--all in vain; forward they would not go.The general himself tried, and failed to put heart into them. Then he whispered something to Stephen, who, with a smile, turned and disappeared.Suddenly there came a shout from the rear, feeble at first, but rapidly increasing in volume."Push on! Quick! Quick! The Austrians are on us! The enemy! The enemy!"The greater danger swallowed up the less. The very dullest recruit could understand what would happen if the Austrians attacked us in that horrible defile, and in a short time we were boldly striding through the torrent. Those who would have lagged behind were dragged on by their companions; and so, fighting, pushing, struggling, shouting, we won our way bit by bit till we had safely passed the most dangerous places.However, the Austrians did not put in an appearance; and when I asked Rakoczy what had become of them, he laughed gaily."Gone back to where they came from, most likely!" he said."Where's that?""Görgei's brain.""What? Was it simply a trick?""Ask Stephen when you get a chance; he ought to know.""And I've been expecting every minute to see the blaze of their guns from the heights!""Wait till we get nearer the summit; that's where the real danger lies. The Austrian Schlick is coming down post-haste from Galicia, and he's a tough fighter."Three days after this conversation the truth of these words was brought home to us in a very striking manner.Görgei, who, as usual, was in advance, had sent forward his scouts. A few light guns, which by incredible labour had been dragged up the defiles, came next, and were followed by the 9th Honved regiment.Several other regiments followed at intervals, while the others were ascending by different routes, keeping in touch, however, with the main body, and all converging on one pass, which it was hoped the Austrians had not seized.Unfortunately, Schlick had been too quick for us, and the scouts returned with the information that the mouth of the pass was blocked by huge boulders, behind which a formidable body of troops with heavy guns was stationed.The regiment halted; Görgei went to reconnoitre, and at once the artillery were ordered to advance, with the 9th in support. The men were weary and footsore, half-starved, numbed with cold, depressed by this everlasting retreat, and I doubted very much if they were equal to the work in front of them.Suddenly the great guns thundered out, and our own replied; the unequal artillery duel had begun.We moved up steadily, and the sharpshooters, running forward and getting whatever cover they could, picked off the Austrian gunners.Our own artillerymen worked their pieces bravely, but were altogether overmatched.The place must be taken by storm, and the assault fell to the share of the 9th.I thought of the barricade in the Prater, and remembered how I had pitied the brave fellows who had thrown away their lives in the attempt to carry it.Now I was in a similar position, and my heart beat quickly as I stood there waiting for the word of command.The men, for the most part, looked downcast, as if they did not enjoy the prospect, and indeed it was a terrible trial for young troops.Rakoczy's handsome face lit up with his usual smile as he nodded to me pleasantly.At length the artillery fire on our side ceased, the word rang out, the regiment moved forward.The order was that no man should stop to fire; but our fellows were not veterans, and it was disregarded.Still, considering that hardly one of us had been under fire before, we did not do so badly.Görgei gave us a cheer as we passed the staff; Stephen waved his hand to me, and we were gone.Into the mouth of the pass we rushed, so close to the great boulders that we could distinctly see the muzzles of the black guns."Forward!" cried the colonel, waving his sword."Forward!" echoed Rakoczy, still smiling; and we ran with such speed that the first discharge checked only those who fell.The second threw us into some disorder. The colonel was killed outright by a cannon-ball, but Rakoczy took command and led us on gallantly.We had, however, lost many men; and when, for the third time, the iron balls tore through our ranks, the survivors would have no more of it.Back they went helter-skelter, tumbling over one another in their eagerness to seek shelter, Rakoczy's orders being unheeded in the stampede.The attack had hopelessly failed, and it was plain to all that the bravest troops would only be thrown back crushed and bleeding from that lane of death.The check was a serious one. To turn the position by another pass would cause a delay of several days, which might ruin the whole cause, for we did not know that Windischgratz was still in Pesth.The artillery duel began again, while we re-formed our ranks and looked about us gloomily.On our right and left huge precipices, covered with ice and snow, towered skyward.If only it were practicable to scale them, we might yet drive the Austrians out.I could not keep my eyes from the cliffs, nor dismiss the idea from my head.Fifty good shots perched up there could pick off every artilleryman who stood by the enemy's guns.There were numerous mountaineers in the regiment, and I myself had always been reckoned a good climber.I had just escaped death; but unless some other plan was discovered, Görgei would fling us at that barrier until those who survived--if there were any--did get over. In fact, he could not help himself.And if death came while I was scaling the cliff, why, the result was no worse than if it met me in the narrow path.I went to Rakoczy and told him what was in my head.Just for an instant he turned pale, and the smile left his face, but he soon recovered his composure."There are a hundred chances of death in fifty yards," he said, "and a thousand when the Austrians see the dodge.""There are five thousand in front of us," I answered. "Still, that isn't the point. Will you give me an axe and leave to go?""I wouldn't order or even ask you to try; but if you're bent on it--""It may save hundreds of lives.""Then I'll borrow you a hatchet, and call for volunteers."He turned to the regiment. "I want twenty men fond of mountain-climbing to go on a little excursion with Lieutenant Botskay."More than half the regiment stepped to the front, and, selecting a score, I told them what we were going to do.The major sent for some hatchets, and then informed Görgei, who instantly dispatched a cloud of sharpshooters to distract the enemy's attention.Unbuckling my sword, I gave it to Rakoczy, and, in case of accidents, wished him good-bye.Stephen had been sent on an errand by the general, and I was rather pleased than otherwise by his absence; the knowledge that he was below, gazing up at me and trembling for my safety, might have preyed on my nerve.My twenty men--all muscular, wiry fellows--laid aside their rifles, and, axe in hand, stood ready to mount.Fifty of the finest marksmen waited beneath the cliff, ready to follow in our track if we should find or cut a path, and to protect us from the enemy's fire.Meanwhile, the sharpshooters at the front, snugly sheltered behind rocks and boulders, discharged their rifles incessantly, and, without doing much damage, kept the Austrians well employed.Our starting-point was a ledge, to which we were hoisted on men's shoulders, and which was so narrow that we could barely preserve a footing.A hum of sympathy rose from the ranks as I cut the first notch; but for the fear of attracting attention it would have been a roar of cheering.Rakoczy had said truly there were a hundred chances of death in fifty yards. The cold was so intense that several times the hatchet was within an ace of slipping from my fingers; and once, while attempting to hang on by a jutting ledge, I must have rolled over but for the man behind me. The first part of the journey we did in single file, and of course each climber made the way easier for the next one, so that it became possible for Rakoczy to send on the soldiers with rifles.Up in the pass our light guns had been partly silenced; but the sharpshooters were busy firing as fast as they could load, and so making the Austrians believe that another assault was to be delivered.To this end, also, the 9th Honveds had been drawn up and placed in position, but out of the line of fire, as if they were only awaiting the support of the next regiment in order to charge.We had reached an immense wall of ice, perpendicular, smooth, and of almost unbroken surface, and I was regarding it with dismay, when the man behind me exclaimed, "To the right, lieutenant! There seems to be a tiny path; we can creep round."There was a tiny path indeed, so narrow that we had to press against the wall like flies, and I doubted the wisdom of attempting to pass."It will get wider, sir; and once round, the rest will be easy."I gave one last thought to my friends and put my foot on the ledge.In spite of the ice and snow and the bitter, freezing wind I was hot enough now--so hot that my body was bathed in perspiration.Placing the fingers of my left hand in a small crevice, I cut a little nick farther on, and thus, step by step, made my perilous way.Half-way across I was seized by a fit of terror, and clung to the wall helplessly like a frightened child, not daring to move, hardly, indeed, to breathe.Something had unnerved me; I scarcely knew what. There had been a rasping of ice, a sound as of slipping feet, a groan of anguish promptly suppressed, and I felt as if the angel of death had lightly brushed me with his spreading wings.The sound of an unfamiliar voice brought me to my senses. A man was speaking, but it was not Szemere, the one who had up till now been my close attendant."Hold tight, sir. Szemere has gone over--missed his footing."I shuddered to think of the poor fellow's awful fate, but, strangely enough, the knowledge of it restored my courage. I ceased to tremble, braced myself up, and cut another notch. Down below, the unequal fight was being waged in the pass. We could hear the roar of the heavy guns, the sharp, crisp rattle of the musketry, the shouts of the combatants, while we hung like a line of flies to the face of the cliffs.At length, with every muscle strained, with aching limbs, with scratched face, and bleeding fingers, I cut the last notch, and stood in comparative safety.The next man, a light, wiry fellow, he who had told me of Szemere's death, cut the notch deeper, and as he did so the axe slipped from his nerveless fingers and went clattering down the abyss.The brown of his face turned to a greyish-white colour; his legs tottered; his teeth knocked together; his hold loosened; in another second he would be gone!I never could clearly understand what happened then. I remember dimly that my arms were locked round the fellow's waist, that our bodies were swaying to and fro, that by force of instinct I used all my strength to swing backward.In this I must have succeeded, for presently I found myself lying on the flat of my back, still hugging the soldier. A pull at my flask of silovitz set me right, and then I forced some of the liquor into the mouth of my companion. Directly the poor fellow recovered from his stupor he knelt and kissed my hands, saying gratefully,--"My life is yours, sweet master. Mecsey Sándor is your servant for ever and ever."We in Hungary adopt the plan of placing the surname first; English-speaking people would call the man Sándor or Alexander Mecsey.Several of the others now joined us; and, as the dead Szemere had foretold, the most difficult part of the journey was past. We were no longer compelled to march in single file, but could spread out, and thus allow the riflemen to follow closely.Now walking upright, now crawling on our hands and knees, we drew near to the Austrian position, when a volley from the enemy showed they had discovered us.Bidding my men lie low, I drew a small flag from my pocket, and, standing proudly erect, waved the glorious red, white, and green colours to the breeze.The men of the 9th greeted the flag with a tremendous shout, which went echoing and re-echoing up the mountain sides. The Austrians fired fast and furiously, but in their excitement they aimed badly.We with the axes, of course, could do nothing more, but the riflemen, taking shelter, poured in a terrible fire, against which the enemy were powerless.The men at the guns went down one after another; and every minute our fire became more severe, as Rakoczy continued to feed us with fresh volunteers.The Austrian chief made a gallant effort to reach us, and we saw his white-coated infantry helping each other to scale the smooth walls.The attempt proved vain, as it was bound to do. The men slipped and scrambled, fell, and rolled to the bottom--many to lie there for all time.Those who climbed highest were greeted by the bullets of my hidden marksmen; and though the white-coats advanced with their wonted bravery, they struggled and died in vain.So plain was this that the leader, while still maintaining a brave show against Görgei, began to draw off his troops, and from our vantage-place we watched them sullenly retire.Very slowly and steadily they went, while we, springing to our feet, cheered again and again.Down below, our comrades secured the abandoned post, leaving the next regiment, which had suffered hardly at all, to pursue the enemy.It was a trying task to descend, especially as we had several wounded men to carry, but the knowledge of victory cheered our spirits; and at length, with the loss of only two or three men, we reached the pass.How our regiment cheered as we ranged ourselves to receive the general! He stood fronting us, his head bent forward, his hands behind his back as usual."Gallant lads, one and all," he said; "yours is to-day's victory."We answered with an "Elijen Görgei!" and when he departed, the men of the regiment crowded round to congratulate their comrades.As for me, the "Well done!" of Rakoczy, who was now colonel, and Stephen's warm embrace, were sufficient reward; but Görgei thought otherwise, and I, who had entered the pass as a simple lieutenant, left it as a captain.CHAPTER VIII.A DRAWN BATTLE.The taking of the pass, described in the preceding chapter, was the first really stubborn affair we had been engaged in, but during the remainder of the journey the enemy attacked us many times.Soldiers have told me that, from a military point of view, the march was a brilliant one, and that it stamped our leader as a most accomplished general.To us it was exceedingly wearisome and distressing. We had very little food, and that the coarsest. Our boots were dropping to pieces, our uniforms were in rags and tatters. Often we forced a passage through ice and snow knee-deep. Frequently the fog enveloped us so thickly that a man could not see his neighbour, and that in a place where a false step meant death.At night our bivouac was the snow-covered ground, where, wrapping ourselves in our bundas, we tried to forget our misery for an hour or two in sleep.In addition, the Austrians gave us plenty of employment in the fighting line, especially near the summit, where they occupied the passes in force.However, as Görgei had resolved to reach Kaschau, to Kaschau we had to go; and by dint of climbing and fighting we at length forced the mountain barriers, and began the descent of the valleys.During the march I saw Stephen scarcely at all, but Rakoczy and I were constantly together; and my friend more than ever justified his old name of "The Joyous."The hardships of the journey had no terrors for him. He appeared warm in the bitterest cold, and when every one else was soaked through, he, to judge by his smiling face, was dry and comfortable.He joked with the men on their troubles till the poor fellows almost began to believe they were grumbling about nothing."Cold?" he would say. "Nonsense! Why, you're glowing as if you'd just come from a vapour-bath. Footsore? I wouldn't like to challenge you to a race for a hundred gulden. Andras, how pleased you'll be when the war's ended to say, 'I went over the mountains with Görgei.' Your neighbours will never let you pay for a bottle of silovitz all the rest of your life. 'The cosiest seat in the inn for Andras,' everybody will say. 'He is a warrior, if you like.' Why, the maidens won't dance with another man in the room while you're there. Look at Janko," as a burly fellow shot head foremost into a snowdrift. "I'll warrant he expects to find something good in there. Lucky fellow, Janko!"Sometimes he would start one of the fiery, soul-stirring, popular songs, when the whole regiment, joining in and forgetting all else, would swing along quite cheerfully.At night, while we lay on the snow-covered ground, our teeth chattering with the cold, he would amuse the officers by his glowing descriptions of the mountains in the summer-time."The noblest mountains in the world!" he would say with enthusiasm. "It is a treat to saunter through the miles of beautiful pine forests, or to gather the lovely gentians and forget-me-nots, blue as if they had dropped from heaven, or to linger by the edge of some boulder-wrapped lake, and gaze into its clear green waters. In the early morning, when myriads of dewdrops sparkle and flash like countless diamonds, and the sun paints the cliffs with warm gold and crimson and purple hues, the place is like paradise. Then to stand on the summits and gaze over the fruitful plains, yellow with ripening grain--ah, I tell you it is a treat to wander amongst the Carpathians!"Then some one would point out in a jesting spirit further delights to be enjoyed--the splendid mists, which drenched us to the bone, and prevented us from seeing the frightful chasms, down which we might tumble; the bitter cold, but for which we should not appreciate the comfort of our bundas; the slippery ice, which provided us with endless fun and a cracked head occasionally.Gradually we would drop off into a restless sleep, and in the morning pinch ourselves hard, to discover if our limbs still had any feeling.The march towards Kaschau was marked by a series of desperate fights with the troops under the Austrian general Schlick.Sometimes they took up a favourable position, which it cost the lives of many brave men to capture; sometimes, creeping quietly through the darkness, they made an attack just when, wearied out by the toils of the day, we had fallen asleep.The last of these assaults was of a very determined nature, and for a time had every chance of succeeding.We were within a day's march of Kaschau, and had covered many weary miles since the morning.A thick fog had come up with the night--so thick, indeed, it was that it closed us in like a curtain.Most of the men fell asleep directly they lay down, and very soon there was not a sound to be heard in the camp.Towards midnight I was awakened by a wild shouting, and springing to my feet, found that the Austrians were in the midst of us.The fight that ensued was of the weirdest kind. In the darkness friend could not be distinguished from foe, and many a man lost his life by sword or bayonet thrust without seeing the hand that struck the blow.Rakoczy's voice kept his regiment well together, and owing chiefly to the steadiness of the 9th Honveds the Austrians were finally repulsed.Like ghosts they had come, like ghosts they vanished; and but for the groans of the wounded, we might have regarded the whole affair as a bad dream.However, for the officers, at least, there was no further rest; and though the men went to sleep again, we were kept busy doubling the sentries, restoring order, and seeing after the poor fellows who had been hurt.Very glad we were when morning came; and having eaten our breakfasts, which occupied little time, we set out for Kaschau.I think Schlick's daring venture must have cost him dear; at any rate we saw no more of the enemy, and in the evening arrived, footsore and hungry, at Kaschau, where an army corps under General Klapka met us.Rakoczy pointed out the general to me, and said that, next to Görgei, he was the finest soldier in the army.In figure he was rather short, but exceedingly well shaped, and he had the oval face, black whiskers and moustache, and fiery, dark eyes of the true Magyar.His features were refined, his manners those of a high-born gentleman, and his expression was so mild and gentle that in private dress he would hardly have been taken for a soldier.Yet so brilliant was to be one, at least, of his exploits that his name will live for ever in the memories of his Magyar comrades.At Kaschau we remained several days, both in order to recover from our fatigue and to obtain a fresh supply of ammunition, as the men had almost come to their last cartridge.From Kaschau we proceeded to Mischkolz, where Dembinski joined us with another army; and here, to our disgust, we learned that the Polish leader had been made commander-in-chief."That's Kossuth's idea," said Rakoczy, "and very badly he'll find it work."Stephen, who at last had found time to spare an hour with us, was very indignant."A Magyar army has no need of a Polish general," he exclaimed, "especially when it counts such men as Görgei and Klapka among its leaders.""The Pole is a republican," I remarked, thinking of the talk at Vienna. "Görgei is a royalist.""And his proclamation did him little good with the Kossuth party."Rakoczy here referred to the address our general had published, in which he declared his army "would oppose itself to all those who may attempt by republican intrigues in the interior of the country to overthrow the constitutional monarchy.""If Görgei held up his little finger, the army would sweep Kossuth and his Poles out of the country!" my brother cried warmly."But he won't, and I'm glad of it," said Rakoczy. "Let us settle with the Austrians first; 'twill be time enough then to fight one another. It's a good rule not to pick up more than you can hold."What Görgei and Klapka thought of the matter I cannot say; but it took a good deal of enthusiasm out of the soldiers, who had learned to look on Görgei as their natural chief.However, as Rakoczy well said, the Austrians must be dealt with first; and as Windischgratz was advancing, we broke up our camp, and marched, forty thousand strong, with two hundred and twenty-five guns, to Kapolna, on the road between Pesth and Debreczin.Here we occupied a strong position on the heights near the town, each wing resting on a ruined village, with our splendid artillery and several squadrons of veteran hussars in the centre.Daylight had scarcely broken on the morning of the twenty-sixth of February, when the sounds of heavy firing announced that the battle had begun.My regiment was stationed on the left, and at first I had ample leisure to view the struggle in the centre and on the right.Compared with this tremendous fight, our encounters with Schlick in the mountains were little more than playing at war.In the centre, forty great guns on either side, served by skilful gunners, thundered away at each other. Farther along, the Austrian leader hurled battalion after battalion against our right wing.By means of a field-glass I saw what happened to the first, and the fate of several others was like it.A great, white-coated mass, looking grey, however, in the early morning, went forward slowly, it appeared to me, yet firmly. A few figures in the front formed a sort of spear-head, which should help the mass to pierce a way.These greyish-white dots were officers. One carried what might have been a handkerchief; really it was the famous black and yellow colours.The mass moved on slowly, steadily, firmly. On the right of it shot and shell flew screaming and hissing; flashes of fire burst from the guns; the earth shook with the discharges; a curtain of smoke shut out my view.When it lifted I looked for the battalion. Yes, there it was, compact as ever, undisturbed by the terrible fight going on elsewhere, and marching steadily towards its destination.Suddenly some tiny curls of whitish smoke were wafted from the heights. The battalion halted. There was a movement in the ranks--I could not tell what; then the mass advanced again. But as it moved away, I noticed that some parts of it had, so to speak, dropped off; and from this point there began a confused line of dots, thin in some places, thicker in others.The column had become smaller, and each time the little puffs of curly smoke appeared, it seemed to quiver, as if with cold, and the line of dots was made longer.The spear-head had done its share towards forming the track. The sides and base of it had vanished, but the apex remained. It was the man with the handkerchief, which he continued to wave without once looking back.I watched him with intense fascination, till once again a thick black cloud drifted across my lens.When the battalion next came into sight, it was considerably smaller, and it had left a heap much higher than any of the others about thirty yards in the rear; but the one remaining point of the spear-head still waved its black and yellow folds to and fro.Suddenly the movement of the mass increased in speed, but it was still one body, save for that detached point in the van.To it something--I could only guess what--at last happened.The flag disappeared, the greyish-white figure sank to the ground. I choked back a sigh of regret, when flag and figure came into sight again, only the former had changed its position from right to left.Now, too, the white puffs came out quicker from the heights; and as the pace of the column increased, so did these curly little clouds.Then, as I looked, the battalion stopped dead; half of it sank to the ground; the rest, each part separated from its neighbour, fell to pieces; and the various atoms, without any appearance of order, ran back quickly along the track so recently made.One figure alone moved slowly--it was the apex of the spear-head, the shaft of which had broken; and in spite of the yellow and black colours, I was downright glad to see the flag returning."Steady, my boys, steady! Don't fire till you get the word. Remember our general trusts to the 9th Honveds."The words and the cheer that followed them brought me back with a rush to the reality of my own position.That which had engaged my attention as a spectator I was about to take part in as an actor.Two battalions were advancing at the double across the plain, and others had formed up in support.We held one of the keys of the position, and Görgei himself, trusting to Rakoczy's influence, had placed us there.If we retreated, the battle would be lost; and no subsequent victory could ever wipe out our disgrace.Looking at the men's faces, I did not much fear the result. The time had gone by when the 9th would run away at the first shot, as this very battle was to prove.Steadily the men waited, trusting implicitly in their colonel, while the two battalions crossed the plain and dashed at the heights."Fire!"Sharp and clear the word rang out, and every trigger was pulled at the same instant, as if the regiment had been a machine.Down below, the slaughter was terrible; but we had to deal with some of the best fighting men who had ever followed the Austrian eagle into the battlefield.Only the dead stopped at the foot of the heights; all the others, even the wounded, pressed on, and the arrival of the second battalion more than made up for those who had fallen.Up they came, scorning death, and contemptuous of the Hungarian peasants so recently converted into soldiers.But "John the Joyous" led us, and we had learned many lessons during our march over the mountains with Görgei.Standing our ground firmly, we poured volley after volley into the midst of the climbing Austrians.Still the survivors advanced, and, fed from below, maintained their numbers, while many of our fellows began to drop.The colonel was everywhere, and his cheery voice encouraged those under his command.While most of the Austrians came on, climbing and firing in the open, many adopted the wiser course of seeking cover, whence they could pick us off without much risk.Several men of my company lost their lives in this way; but the fight came at length to a hand-grip, and it was no longer a question of bullets, but of bayonets.Twice by main force we flung our assailants back; but they returned to the charge, cheering loudly, as if bent upon turning us out or of losing every man in the attempt. We on our side would not give way, and so the stubborn fight continued.The enemy were continually reinforced; our losses were not made good, and the longer the struggle lasted the more unequal it became.For myself, I feared that the attack would prove too strong; and, as Rakoczy told me afterwards, he was of the same opinion.One would not have thought so, however, at the time of the fight. His face was full of confidence; his voice had not lost an atom of its usual cheerfulness. To his troops his presence appeared everywhere as an omen of victory.Still the position was growing desperate, and though we might have held our own for a while longer, the enemy must finally have captured the heights, as there would have been no one left to defend them.The colonel had posted my company at a spot where the ascent was fairly easy, and, had the white-coats once broken through, they would have turned the position from the top."You must die where you stand," he had said, "for the honour of the Magyars," and we had answered with a cheer.But the enemy were not at our throats then as they were now, cutting and stabbing, or, seizing us bodily, trying to hurl us over the cliffs.Still we held our ground, though the company was sadly diminishing in numbers, and every fighting-man who survived was more or less seriously wounded.I had twice escaped death myself, through the devotion of Mecsey Sándor, who, since the affair in the pass, had taken every opportunity to show his gratitude.On the second occasion I was engaged hand to hand with an Austrian sergeant, sword against bayonet, when, my foot slipping, down, I went, completely at the fellow's mercy.Sándor, who though hotly engaged evidently kept one eye on me, was at my side in a moment, and, parrying the sergeant's blow, dealt one himself.My men cheered as I rose to my feet and again dashed into the thick of the fight.Then it was that, in the very wreck of our fortunes, a cry rose from the rear--a cry that made our blood hot, and victory, at least in that particular corner of the field, certain."Görgei! Görgei! elijen Görgei!"Louder and louder it grew, putting heart into every man; even the poor fellows on the ground, raising themselves with difficulty, helped to swell the chorus.Riding along the heights, the general had seen how terribly we suffered, and springing from his horse without a moment's hesitation, had run to our help.The staff, leaving their animals, followed; and I saw Stephen, his handsome face ablaze with passion, catch his leader, and side by side with him shoot forward into the press.The reinforcement was few in numbers, but Görgei counted a host in himself, and the sight of his tall, spare frame and spectacled, weather-beaten countenance inspired us all with new courage.The Austrians now gave way slowly, still fighting with sullen desperation; but we pushed them harder and harder, broke them up into little knots, forced them into a run, till, thoroughly disorganized, they reached the plain a beaten crowd.Here their misfortunes were by no means at an end. A regiment of hussars, issuing from a wood on the right, scattered those who still kept together, and turned what was already a bad defeat into a total rout.The cheers for Görgei rose again with tenfold vigour; but the general, taking Rakoczy by the hand, exclaimed, "Colonel, you and your brave lads have done to-day what I shall never forget. I trusted you to hold this position, and you have held it. Through me Hungary thanks the gallant 9th Honveds."Then, amidst another wild outburst of cheering, he went back to the summit.While his chief talked thus to Rakoczy, Stephen came to me.In the struggle he had not received a scratch; but it was different with me, and my brother's face looked very grave."It's all right, old fellow," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Not one of these cuts is really dangerous. I'm only a little faint through loss of blood. A night's rest will put me straight."He shook my hand warmly and followed his chief, but I noticed that more than once he turned and looked back sorrowfully.The combat, which had lasted for six hours, now ceased on the two wings, but continued in the centre with unabated fury.There the great guns were massed, and the veterans of both armies strove, the one party to oust its opponents, the other to maintain its position.The guns roared, sheets of flame sprang from their muzzles, shot and shell tore, screaming, through the air. Occasionally what appeared a solid body of living fire shot skyward, accompanied by a loud report, as a powder-tumbrel was struck by one of the flying missiles.Then for a time everything would be hidden by a dense bank of smoke, and we waited breathlessly to see it lift. But though human courage may be inexhaustible, there is a limit to human endurance; and at last, as if by common consent, both sides ceased to struggle."A drawn battle," said Rakoczy, "and I don't think we've had the worst of it. George, you'd better find a surgeon and have those wounds dressed. We shall have to fight again in the morning."As I had told Stephen, my hurts were not dangerous, and directly the surgeon had bound them up I returned to the front.The men lay on the hard ground with only their bundas to shelter them from the bitter, piercing cold that crept into their very marrows.Rakoczy, with several officers and the least fatigued of the troops, was going about succouring the wounded; but he would not allow me to help, insisting that I needed rest. So, wrapped in my mantle, I lay down, and sad at heart watched the myriads of brilliant stars that shone in the unclouded sky.
CHAPTER VII.
A FIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS.
"George!"
I had not been in bed an hour, and it was quite dark, when Rakoczy's voice wakened me from a sound sleep.
"Turn out and dress quickly," he continued. "We are ordered to Waitzen; the men are under arms."
"All right," I replied sleepily, and tumbling out grazed my shins against an iron box.
"Drawn blood already?" Rakoczy queried with a laugh. "What a desperate fellow you are!" and as he went away I heard him still chuckling to himself.
After a vain attempt to dress in the dark, I procured a light, and having made a hasty toilet hastened to the officers' messroom.
Several men were already there, scalding their throats with boiling coffee, and eating the next two or three meals before starting--a very good plan, too, as experience soon taught us.
As Rakoczy rightly said, on a campaign there is nothing like being a day in advance of your proper meals. Passing me a cup of steaming coffee and pointing to the eatables, he exclaimed, "Fall to, Botskay. There's no ceremony this morning."
"Morning?" cried a youngster who, having burned his throat, was glad to give vent to his ill-humour. "You don't call this morning? Why, I hadn't got to sleep before they woke me up again. Why didn't they tell us before, and save us the trouble of tumbling in?"
"Don't know," replied Rakoczy innocently. "Ask some one else."
We were laughing at Rakoczy's pretended simplicity, when another man, coming in, said,--
"Jolly, this, isn't it? It's as black as pitch outside, and hailstones the size of walnuts are falling. Anybody know what it's all about?"
"Which? The hailstones or the blackness?" asked Rakoczy.
"This sudden turn-out. A pity we hadn't stayed at Szondi's a couple of hours later."
"I heard a rumour that Görgei had sent a messenger to say he was retreating with the Austrians on his heels."
"He should imitate the horses and kick out behind."
"I expect he will show fight at Ofen."
"With a crowd of peasants? Not likely. His best plan is to fall back."
"What an oversight that the general didn't put us on his staff!" said Rakoczy. "We could have given him a lot of useful information."
"There's the bugle, gentlemen! Ach!" as some one opened the door; "what a blast!"
I wrapped my mantle round me closely, took another pull at the hot coffee, and went into the barrack-yard.
Two or three hundred men were drawn up in waiting. They were to convoy a huge store of food and ammunition to Waitzen.
Rather to my disgust, I found that Rakoczy and I were to look after the carts, and a wretched time of it we had.
For several hours we trudged along in the blackness of the night, while the hailstorm beat down upon us in fury.
The roads were execrable, and frequently we were compelled to stop while the teamsters got their animals out of the holes into which they stumbled.
This first spell of active service was hardly to my liking, and even upon reaching Waitzen things were very little better.
However, a merry heart is a golden cure for most ills, and it was not easy to be miserable where Rakoczy was.
He laughed at everything, found amusement in the storm, made light of the bitter cold, professed that half a dinner was better than a full one, and that he preferred to sleep on the floor, because there was no chance of falling out of bed.
After waiting two days at Waitzen we learned that Görgei, by a sharp manoeuvre, had joined hands with Perczel, and that the Austrians were marching into Pesth.
Many of us had wondered at being sent with stores to Waitzen, but now we began to understand something of our leader's foresight.
Leaving the main army to retreat behind the Theiss, Görgei, making a great show with his scanty numbers, turned north to join us, and this drew the bulk of the Austrians on his own track.
Amongst the first of the advance-guard to arrive at Waitzen was my brother Stephen; and though he had little leisure for conversation, the meeting did us both good.
He was looking a trifle thinner, but in good health, and related with much glee his experiences with the general. According to his account, he lived almost entirely in the saddle, slept at odd times where he could, ate what he could pick up, and had not once taken off his clothes since we left him.
Of the general he spoke enthusiastically.
"Görgei never gets tired," he said. "He is made of iron, and can do without sleep. As to riding, I never saw any one like him. After a day's hard work he'll jump into the saddle and ride to the outposts at full gallop on a pitch-dark night and in the stormiest weather. At first I used to ache in every muscle, but I'm getting used to it. Now I'm off to Kremnitz."
For several days longer we remained at Waitzen picking up recruits from the north, and then moved on towards Kremnitz.
Rakoczy and I had been regularly appointed as major and lieutenant in the 9th Honved regiment, the men of which were well equipped and in fairly good spirits.
The recruits had brought our numbers up to about twenty thousand; and, leaving Kremnitz, we marched in a south-west direction to make Windischgratz believe we were striking at Vienna. In this we succeeded, and thus prevented the Austrian general from crushing our main army, then in full retreat to Debreczin, behind the Theiss.
Having accomplished his object, Görgei once more broke fresh ground, and led us into the mountains, in order to draw off a part of the Austrian force, and, by a round-about route, to rejoin the principal army.
I was certainly serving a rough apprenticeship to the trade of war.
The roads were covered with ice, the valleys were piled with snow through which we had to force a passage, sometimes being sunk in it almost to our arm-pits; and as we stumbled along, huge avalanches thundered down the rocky cliffs that on either side overhung our path.
The majority of the soldiers, having newly joined, lost their spirits, which made the officers' work much harder; but we kept them going somehow, and struggled up and through the narrow defiles with the Austrians in our rear, and, for aught we knew, in front as well.
At the beginning of the last week in January, the frost broke up quite suddenly, and the narrow valleys were flooded by water, which swept through the gorges, carrying with it great pieces of floating ice.
As our regiment led the way, we were the first to bear the brunt of this new danger.
"Steady, men!" cried Rakoczy. "Plant your feet firmly on the ground and lock arms, or you'll be carried away."
The men responded instantly, but for a long time they could make no headway against the torrent.
Again and again we led them forward, but each time it was only for a few paces.
The noise of the rushing waters, the blows from detached pieces of ice, the difficulty of securing a foothold, told on the men's nerves, and kept them from fronting the danger.
The colonel stormed, Rakoczy begged and prayed, taunted them with cowardice, mocked at their fears, and called them frightened children--all in vain; forward they would not go.
The general himself tried, and failed to put heart into them. Then he whispered something to Stephen, who, with a smile, turned and disappeared.
Suddenly there came a shout from the rear, feeble at first, but rapidly increasing in volume.
"Push on! Quick! Quick! The Austrians are on us! The enemy! The enemy!"
The greater danger swallowed up the less. The very dullest recruit could understand what would happen if the Austrians attacked us in that horrible defile, and in a short time we were boldly striding through the torrent. Those who would have lagged behind were dragged on by their companions; and so, fighting, pushing, struggling, shouting, we won our way bit by bit till we had safely passed the most dangerous places.
However, the Austrians did not put in an appearance; and when I asked Rakoczy what had become of them, he laughed gaily.
"Gone back to where they came from, most likely!" he said.
"Where's that?"
"Görgei's brain."
"What? Was it simply a trick?"
"Ask Stephen when you get a chance; he ought to know."
"And I've been expecting every minute to see the blaze of their guns from the heights!"
"Wait till we get nearer the summit; that's where the real danger lies. The Austrian Schlick is coming down post-haste from Galicia, and he's a tough fighter."
Three days after this conversation the truth of these words was brought home to us in a very striking manner.
Görgei, who, as usual, was in advance, had sent forward his scouts. A few light guns, which by incredible labour had been dragged up the defiles, came next, and were followed by the 9th Honved regiment.
Several other regiments followed at intervals, while the others were ascending by different routes, keeping in touch, however, with the main body, and all converging on one pass, which it was hoped the Austrians had not seized.
Unfortunately, Schlick had been too quick for us, and the scouts returned with the information that the mouth of the pass was blocked by huge boulders, behind which a formidable body of troops with heavy guns was stationed.
The regiment halted; Görgei went to reconnoitre, and at once the artillery were ordered to advance, with the 9th in support. The men were weary and footsore, half-starved, numbed with cold, depressed by this everlasting retreat, and I doubted very much if they were equal to the work in front of them.
Suddenly the great guns thundered out, and our own replied; the unequal artillery duel had begun.
We moved up steadily, and the sharpshooters, running forward and getting whatever cover they could, picked off the Austrian gunners.
Our own artillerymen worked their pieces bravely, but were altogether overmatched.
The place must be taken by storm, and the assault fell to the share of the 9th.
I thought of the barricade in the Prater, and remembered how I had pitied the brave fellows who had thrown away their lives in the attempt to carry it.
Now I was in a similar position, and my heart beat quickly as I stood there waiting for the word of command.
The men, for the most part, looked downcast, as if they did not enjoy the prospect, and indeed it was a terrible trial for young troops.
Rakoczy's handsome face lit up with his usual smile as he nodded to me pleasantly.
At length the artillery fire on our side ceased, the word rang out, the regiment moved forward.
The order was that no man should stop to fire; but our fellows were not veterans, and it was disregarded.
Still, considering that hardly one of us had been under fire before, we did not do so badly.
Görgei gave us a cheer as we passed the staff; Stephen waved his hand to me, and we were gone.
Into the mouth of the pass we rushed, so close to the great boulders that we could distinctly see the muzzles of the black guns.
"Forward!" cried the colonel, waving his sword.
"Forward!" echoed Rakoczy, still smiling; and we ran with such speed that the first discharge checked only those who fell.
The second threw us into some disorder. The colonel was killed outright by a cannon-ball, but Rakoczy took command and led us on gallantly.
We had, however, lost many men; and when, for the third time, the iron balls tore through our ranks, the survivors would have no more of it.
Back they went helter-skelter, tumbling over one another in their eagerness to seek shelter, Rakoczy's orders being unheeded in the stampede.
The attack had hopelessly failed, and it was plain to all that the bravest troops would only be thrown back crushed and bleeding from that lane of death.
The check was a serious one. To turn the position by another pass would cause a delay of several days, which might ruin the whole cause, for we did not know that Windischgratz was still in Pesth.
The artillery duel began again, while we re-formed our ranks and looked about us gloomily.
On our right and left huge precipices, covered with ice and snow, towered skyward.
If only it were practicable to scale them, we might yet drive the Austrians out.
I could not keep my eyes from the cliffs, nor dismiss the idea from my head.
Fifty good shots perched up there could pick off every artilleryman who stood by the enemy's guns.
There were numerous mountaineers in the regiment, and I myself had always been reckoned a good climber.
I had just escaped death; but unless some other plan was discovered, Görgei would fling us at that barrier until those who survived--if there were any--did get over. In fact, he could not help himself.
And if death came while I was scaling the cliff, why, the result was no worse than if it met me in the narrow path.
I went to Rakoczy and told him what was in my head.
Just for an instant he turned pale, and the smile left his face, but he soon recovered his composure.
"There are a hundred chances of death in fifty yards," he said, "and a thousand when the Austrians see the dodge."
"There are five thousand in front of us," I answered. "Still, that isn't the point. Will you give me an axe and leave to go?"
"I wouldn't order or even ask you to try; but if you're bent on it--"
"It may save hundreds of lives."
"Then I'll borrow you a hatchet, and call for volunteers."
He turned to the regiment. "I want twenty men fond of mountain-climbing to go on a little excursion with Lieutenant Botskay."
More than half the regiment stepped to the front, and, selecting a score, I told them what we were going to do.
The major sent for some hatchets, and then informed Görgei, who instantly dispatched a cloud of sharpshooters to distract the enemy's attention.
Unbuckling my sword, I gave it to Rakoczy, and, in case of accidents, wished him good-bye.
Stephen had been sent on an errand by the general, and I was rather pleased than otherwise by his absence; the knowledge that he was below, gazing up at me and trembling for my safety, might have preyed on my nerve.
My twenty men--all muscular, wiry fellows--laid aside their rifles, and, axe in hand, stood ready to mount.
Fifty of the finest marksmen waited beneath the cliff, ready to follow in our track if we should find or cut a path, and to protect us from the enemy's fire.
Meanwhile, the sharpshooters at the front, snugly sheltered behind rocks and boulders, discharged their rifles incessantly, and, without doing much damage, kept the Austrians well employed.
Our starting-point was a ledge, to which we were hoisted on men's shoulders, and which was so narrow that we could barely preserve a footing.
A hum of sympathy rose from the ranks as I cut the first notch; but for the fear of attracting attention it would have been a roar of cheering.
Rakoczy had said truly there were a hundred chances of death in fifty yards. The cold was so intense that several times the hatchet was within an ace of slipping from my fingers; and once, while attempting to hang on by a jutting ledge, I must have rolled over but for the man behind me. The first part of the journey we did in single file, and of course each climber made the way easier for the next one, so that it became possible for Rakoczy to send on the soldiers with rifles.
Up in the pass our light guns had been partly silenced; but the sharpshooters were busy firing as fast as they could load, and so making the Austrians believe that another assault was to be delivered.
To this end, also, the 9th Honveds had been drawn up and placed in position, but out of the line of fire, as if they were only awaiting the support of the next regiment in order to charge.
We had reached an immense wall of ice, perpendicular, smooth, and of almost unbroken surface, and I was regarding it with dismay, when the man behind me exclaimed, "To the right, lieutenant! There seems to be a tiny path; we can creep round."
There was a tiny path indeed, so narrow that we had to press against the wall like flies, and I doubted the wisdom of attempting to pass.
"It will get wider, sir; and once round, the rest will be easy."
I gave one last thought to my friends and put my foot on the ledge.
In spite of the ice and snow and the bitter, freezing wind I was hot enough now--so hot that my body was bathed in perspiration.
Placing the fingers of my left hand in a small crevice, I cut a little nick farther on, and thus, step by step, made my perilous way.
Half-way across I was seized by a fit of terror, and clung to the wall helplessly like a frightened child, not daring to move, hardly, indeed, to breathe.
Something had unnerved me; I scarcely knew what. There had been a rasping of ice, a sound as of slipping feet, a groan of anguish promptly suppressed, and I felt as if the angel of death had lightly brushed me with his spreading wings.
The sound of an unfamiliar voice brought me to my senses. A man was speaking, but it was not Szemere, the one who had up till now been my close attendant.
"Hold tight, sir. Szemere has gone over--missed his footing."
I shuddered to think of the poor fellow's awful fate, but, strangely enough, the knowledge of it restored my courage. I ceased to tremble, braced myself up, and cut another notch. Down below, the unequal fight was being waged in the pass. We could hear the roar of the heavy guns, the sharp, crisp rattle of the musketry, the shouts of the combatants, while we hung like a line of flies to the face of the cliffs.
At length, with every muscle strained, with aching limbs, with scratched face, and bleeding fingers, I cut the last notch, and stood in comparative safety.
The next man, a light, wiry fellow, he who had told me of Szemere's death, cut the notch deeper, and as he did so the axe slipped from his nerveless fingers and went clattering down the abyss.
The brown of his face turned to a greyish-white colour; his legs tottered; his teeth knocked together; his hold loosened; in another second he would be gone!
I never could clearly understand what happened then. I remember dimly that my arms were locked round the fellow's waist, that our bodies were swaying to and fro, that by force of instinct I used all my strength to swing backward.
In this I must have succeeded, for presently I found myself lying on the flat of my back, still hugging the soldier. A pull at my flask of silovitz set me right, and then I forced some of the liquor into the mouth of my companion. Directly the poor fellow recovered from his stupor he knelt and kissed my hands, saying gratefully,--
"My life is yours, sweet master. Mecsey Sándor is your servant for ever and ever."
We in Hungary adopt the plan of placing the surname first; English-speaking people would call the man Sándor or Alexander Mecsey.
Several of the others now joined us; and, as the dead Szemere had foretold, the most difficult part of the journey was past. We were no longer compelled to march in single file, but could spread out, and thus allow the riflemen to follow closely.
Now walking upright, now crawling on our hands and knees, we drew near to the Austrian position, when a volley from the enemy showed they had discovered us.
Bidding my men lie low, I drew a small flag from my pocket, and, standing proudly erect, waved the glorious red, white, and green colours to the breeze.
The men of the 9th greeted the flag with a tremendous shout, which went echoing and re-echoing up the mountain sides. The Austrians fired fast and furiously, but in their excitement they aimed badly.
We with the axes, of course, could do nothing more, but the riflemen, taking shelter, poured in a terrible fire, against which the enemy were powerless.
The men at the guns went down one after another; and every minute our fire became more severe, as Rakoczy continued to feed us with fresh volunteers.
The Austrian chief made a gallant effort to reach us, and we saw his white-coated infantry helping each other to scale the smooth walls.
The attempt proved vain, as it was bound to do. The men slipped and scrambled, fell, and rolled to the bottom--many to lie there for all time.
Those who climbed highest were greeted by the bullets of my hidden marksmen; and though the white-coats advanced with their wonted bravery, they struggled and died in vain.
So plain was this that the leader, while still maintaining a brave show against Görgei, began to draw off his troops, and from our vantage-place we watched them sullenly retire.
Very slowly and steadily they went, while we, springing to our feet, cheered again and again.
Down below, our comrades secured the abandoned post, leaving the next regiment, which had suffered hardly at all, to pursue the enemy.
It was a trying task to descend, especially as we had several wounded men to carry, but the knowledge of victory cheered our spirits; and at length, with the loss of only two or three men, we reached the pass.
How our regiment cheered as we ranged ourselves to receive the general! He stood fronting us, his head bent forward, his hands behind his back as usual.
"Gallant lads, one and all," he said; "yours is to-day's victory."
We answered with an "Elijen Görgei!" and when he departed, the men of the regiment crowded round to congratulate their comrades.
As for me, the "Well done!" of Rakoczy, who was now colonel, and Stephen's warm embrace, were sufficient reward; but Görgei thought otherwise, and I, who had entered the pass as a simple lieutenant, left it as a captain.
CHAPTER VIII.
A DRAWN BATTLE.
The taking of the pass, described in the preceding chapter, was the first really stubborn affair we had been engaged in, but during the remainder of the journey the enemy attacked us many times.
Soldiers have told me that, from a military point of view, the march was a brilliant one, and that it stamped our leader as a most accomplished general.
To us it was exceedingly wearisome and distressing. We had very little food, and that the coarsest. Our boots were dropping to pieces, our uniforms were in rags and tatters. Often we forced a passage through ice and snow knee-deep. Frequently the fog enveloped us so thickly that a man could not see his neighbour, and that in a place where a false step meant death.
At night our bivouac was the snow-covered ground, where, wrapping ourselves in our bundas, we tried to forget our misery for an hour or two in sleep.
In addition, the Austrians gave us plenty of employment in the fighting line, especially near the summit, where they occupied the passes in force.
However, as Görgei had resolved to reach Kaschau, to Kaschau we had to go; and by dint of climbing and fighting we at length forced the mountain barriers, and began the descent of the valleys.
During the march I saw Stephen scarcely at all, but Rakoczy and I were constantly together; and my friend more than ever justified his old name of "The Joyous."
The hardships of the journey had no terrors for him. He appeared warm in the bitterest cold, and when every one else was soaked through, he, to judge by his smiling face, was dry and comfortable.
He joked with the men on their troubles till the poor fellows almost began to believe they were grumbling about nothing.
"Cold?" he would say. "Nonsense! Why, you're glowing as if you'd just come from a vapour-bath. Footsore? I wouldn't like to challenge you to a race for a hundred gulden. Andras, how pleased you'll be when the war's ended to say, 'I went over the mountains with Görgei.' Your neighbours will never let you pay for a bottle of silovitz all the rest of your life. 'The cosiest seat in the inn for Andras,' everybody will say. 'He is a warrior, if you like.' Why, the maidens won't dance with another man in the room while you're there. Look at Janko," as a burly fellow shot head foremost into a snowdrift. "I'll warrant he expects to find something good in there. Lucky fellow, Janko!"
Sometimes he would start one of the fiery, soul-stirring, popular songs, when the whole regiment, joining in and forgetting all else, would swing along quite cheerfully.
At night, while we lay on the snow-covered ground, our teeth chattering with the cold, he would amuse the officers by his glowing descriptions of the mountains in the summer-time.
"The noblest mountains in the world!" he would say with enthusiasm. "It is a treat to saunter through the miles of beautiful pine forests, or to gather the lovely gentians and forget-me-nots, blue as if they had dropped from heaven, or to linger by the edge of some boulder-wrapped lake, and gaze into its clear green waters. In the early morning, when myriads of dewdrops sparkle and flash like countless diamonds, and the sun paints the cliffs with warm gold and crimson and purple hues, the place is like paradise. Then to stand on the summits and gaze over the fruitful plains, yellow with ripening grain--ah, I tell you it is a treat to wander amongst the Carpathians!"
Then some one would point out in a jesting spirit further delights to be enjoyed--the splendid mists, which drenched us to the bone, and prevented us from seeing the frightful chasms, down which we might tumble; the bitter cold, but for which we should not appreciate the comfort of our bundas; the slippery ice, which provided us with endless fun and a cracked head occasionally.
Gradually we would drop off into a restless sleep, and in the morning pinch ourselves hard, to discover if our limbs still had any feeling.
The march towards Kaschau was marked by a series of desperate fights with the troops under the Austrian general Schlick.
Sometimes they took up a favourable position, which it cost the lives of many brave men to capture; sometimes, creeping quietly through the darkness, they made an attack just when, wearied out by the toils of the day, we had fallen asleep.
The last of these assaults was of a very determined nature, and for a time had every chance of succeeding.
We were within a day's march of Kaschau, and had covered many weary miles since the morning.
A thick fog had come up with the night--so thick, indeed, it was that it closed us in like a curtain.
Most of the men fell asleep directly they lay down, and very soon there was not a sound to be heard in the camp.
Towards midnight I was awakened by a wild shouting, and springing to my feet, found that the Austrians were in the midst of us.
The fight that ensued was of the weirdest kind. In the darkness friend could not be distinguished from foe, and many a man lost his life by sword or bayonet thrust without seeing the hand that struck the blow.
Rakoczy's voice kept his regiment well together, and owing chiefly to the steadiness of the 9th Honveds the Austrians were finally repulsed.
Like ghosts they had come, like ghosts they vanished; and but for the groans of the wounded, we might have regarded the whole affair as a bad dream.
However, for the officers, at least, there was no further rest; and though the men went to sleep again, we were kept busy doubling the sentries, restoring order, and seeing after the poor fellows who had been hurt.
Very glad we were when morning came; and having eaten our breakfasts, which occupied little time, we set out for Kaschau.
I think Schlick's daring venture must have cost him dear; at any rate we saw no more of the enemy, and in the evening arrived, footsore and hungry, at Kaschau, where an army corps under General Klapka met us.
Rakoczy pointed out the general to me, and said that, next to Görgei, he was the finest soldier in the army.
In figure he was rather short, but exceedingly well shaped, and he had the oval face, black whiskers and moustache, and fiery, dark eyes of the true Magyar.
His features were refined, his manners those of a high-born gentleman, and his expression was so mild and gentle that in private dress he would hardly have been taken for a soldier.
Yet so brilliant was to be one, at least, of his exploits that his name will live for ever in the memories of his Magyar comrades.
At Kaschau we remained several days, both in order to recover from our fatigue and to obtain a fresh supply of ammunition, as the men had almost come to their last cartridge.
From Kaschau we proceeded to Mischkolz, where Dembinski joined us with another army; and here, to our disgust, we learned that the Polish leader had been made commander-in-chief.
"That's Kossuth's idea," said Rakoczy, "and very badly he'll find it work."
Stephen, who at last had found time to spare an hour with us, was very indignant.
"A Magyar army has no need of a Polish general," he exclaimed, "especially when it counts such men as Görgei and Klapka among its leaders."
"The Pole is a republican," I remarked, thinking of the talk at Vienna. "Görgei is a royalist."
"And his proclamation did him little good with the Kossuth party."
Rakoczy here referred to the address our general had published, in which he declared his army "would oppose itself to all those who may attempt by republican intrigues in the interior of the country to overthrow the constitutional monarchy."
"If Görgei held up his little finger, the army would sweep Kossuth and his Poles out of the country!" my brother cried warmly.
"But he won't, and I'm glad of it," said Rakoczy. "Let us settle with the Austrians first; 'twill be time enough then to fight one another. It's a good rule not to pick up more than you can hold."
What Görgei and Klapka thought of the matter I cannot say; but it took a good deal of enthusiasm out of the soldiers, who had learned to look on Görgei as their natural chief.
However, as Rakoczy well said, the Austrians must be dealt with first; and as Windischgratz was advancing, we broke up our camp, and marched, forty thousand strong, with two hundred and twenty-five guns, to Kapolna, on the road between Pesth and Debreczin.
Here we occupied a strong position on the heights near the town, each wing resting on a ruined village, with our splendid artillery and several squadrons of veteran hussars in the centre.
Daylight had scarcely broken on the morning of the twenty-sixth of February, when the sounds of heavy firing announced that the battle had begun.
My regiment was stationed on the left, and at first I had ample leisure to view the struggle in the centre and on the right.
Compared with this tremendous fight, our encounters with Schlick in the mountains were little more than playing at war.
In the centre, forty great guns on either side, served by skilful gunners, thundered away at each other. Farther along, the Austrian leader hurled battalion after battalion against our right wing.
By means of a field-glass I saw what happened to the first, and the fate of several others was like it.
A great, white-coated mass, looking grey, however, in the early morning, went forward slowly, it appeared to me, yet firmly. A few figures in the front formed a sort of spear-head, which should help the mass to pierce a way.
These greyish-white dots were officers. One carried what might have been a handkerchief; really it was the famous black and yellow colours.
The mass moved on slowly, steadily, firmly. On the right of it shot and shell flew screaming and hissing; flashes of fire burst from the guns; the earth shook with the discharges; a curtain of smoke shut out my view.
When it lifted I looked for the battalion. Yes, there it was, compact as ever, undisturbed by the terrible fight going on elsewhere, and marching steadily towards its destination.
Suddenly some tiny curls of whitish smoke were wafted from the heights. The battalion halted. There was a movement in the ranks--I could not tell what; then the mass advanced again. But as it moved away, I noticed that some parts of it had, so to speak, dropped off; and from this point there began a confused line of dots, thin in some places, thicker in others.
The column had become smaller, and each time the little puffs of curly smoke appeared, it seemed to quiver, as if with cold, and the line of dots was made longer.
The spear-head had done its share towards forming the track. The sides and base of it had vanished, but the apex remained. It was the man with the handkerchief, which he continued to wave without once looking back.
I watched him with intense fascination, till once again a thick black cloud drifted across my lens.
When the battalion next came into sight, it was considerably smaller, and it had left a heap much higher than any of the others about thirty yards in the rear; but the one remaining point of the spear-head still waved its black and yellow folds to and fro.
Suddenly the movement of the mass increased in speed, but it was still one body, save for that detached point in the van.
To it something--I could only guess what--at last happened.
The flag disappeared, the greyish-white figure sank to the ground. I choked back a sigh of regret, when flag and figure came into sight again, only the former had changed its position from right to left.
Now, too, the white puffs came out quicker from the heights; and as the pace of the column increased, so did these curly little clouds.
Then, as I looked, the battalion stopped dead; half of it sank to the ground; the rest, each part separated from its neighbour, fell to pieces; and the various atoms, without any appearance of order, ran back quickly along the track so recently made.
One figure alone moved slowly--it was the apex of the spear-head, the shaft of which had broken; and in spite of the yellow and black colours, I was downright glad to see the flag returning.
"Steady, my boys, steady! Don't fire till you get the word. Remember our general trusts to the 9th Honveds."
The words and the cheer that followed them brought me back with a rush to the reality of my own position.
That which had engaged my attention as a spectator I was about to take part in as an actor.
Two battalions were advancing at the double across the plain, and others had formed up in support.
We held one of the keys of the position, and Görgei himself, trusting to Rakoczy's influence, had placed us there.
If we retreated, the battle would be lost; and no subsequent victory could ever wipe out our disgrace.
Looking at the men's faces, I did not much fear the result. The time had gone by when the 9th would run away at the first shot, as this very battle was to prove.
Steadily the men waited, trusting implicitly in their colonel, while the two battalions crossed the plain and dashed at the heights.
"Fire!"
Sharp and clear the word rang out, and every trigger was pulled at the same instant, as if the regiment had been a machine.
Down below, the slaughter was terrible; but we had to deal with some of the best fighting men who had ever followed the Austrian eagle into the battlefield.
Only the dead stopped at the foot of the heights; all the others, even the wounded, pressed on, and the arrival of the second battalion more than made up for those who had fallen.
Up they came, scorning death, and contemptuous of the Hungarian peasants so recently converted into soldiers.
But "John the Joyous" led us, and we had learned many lessons during our march over the mountains with Görgei.
Standing our ground firmly, we poured volley after volley into the midst of the climbing Austrians.
Still the survivors advanced, and, fed from below, maintained their numbers, while many of our fellows began to drop.
The colonel was everywhere, and his cheery voice encouraged those under his command.
While most of the Austrians came on, climbing and firing in the open, many adopted the wiser course of seeking cover, whence they could pick us off without much risk.
Several men of my company lost their lives in this way; but the fight came at length to a hand-grip, and it was no longer a question of bullets, but of bayonets.
Twice by main force we flung our assailants back; but they returned to the charge, cheering loudly, as if bent upon turning us out or of losing every man in the attempt. We on our side would not give way, and so the stubborn fight continued.
The enemy were continually reinforced; our losses were not made good, and the longer the struggle lasted the more unequal it became.
For myself, I feared that the attack would prove too strong; and, as Rakoczy told me afterwards, he was of the same opinion.
One would not have thought so, however, at the time of the fight. His face was full of confidence; his voice had not lost an atom of its usual cheerfulness. To his troops his presence appeared everywhere as an omen of victory.
Still the position was growing desperate, and though we might have held our own for a while longer, the enemy must finally have captured the heights, as there would have been no one left to defend them.
The colonel had posted my company at a spot where the ascent was fairly easy, and, had the white-coats once broken through, they would have turned the position from the top.
"You must die where you stand," he had said, "for the honour of the Magyars," and we had answered with a cheer.
But the enemy were not at our throats then as they were now, cutting and stabbing, or, seizing us bodily, trying to hurl us over the cliffs.
Still we held our ground, though the company was sadly diminishing in numbers, and every fighting-man who survived was more or less seriously wounded.
I had twice escaped death myself, through the devotion of Mecsey Sándor, who, since the affair in the pass, had taken every opportunity to show his gratitude.
On the second occasion I was engaged hand to hand with an Austrian sergeant, sword against bayonet, when, my foot slipping, down, I went, completely at the fellow's mercy.
Sándor, who though hotly engaged evidently kept one eye on me, was at my side in a moment, and, parrying the sergeant's blow, dealt one himself.
My men cheered as I rose to my feet and again dashed into the thick of the fight.
Then it was that, in the very wreck of our fortunes, a cry rose from the rear--a cry that made our blood hot, and victory, at least in that particular corner of the field, certain.
"Görgei! Görgei! elijen Görgei!"
Louder and louder it grew, putting heart into every man; even the poor fellows on the ground, raising themselves with difficulty, helped to swell the chorus.
Riding along the heights, the general had seen how terribly we suffered, and springing from his horse without a moment's hesitation, had run to our help.
The staff, leaving their animals, followed; and I saw Stephen, his handsome face ablaze with passion, catch his leader, and side by side with him shoot forward into the press.
The reinforcement was few in numbers, but Görgei counted a host in himself, and the sight of his tall, spare frame and spectacled, weather-beaten countenance inspired us all with new courage.
The Austrians now gave way slowly, still fighting with sullen desperation; but we pushed them harder and harder, broke them up into little knots, forced them into a run, till, thoroughly disorganized, they reached the plain a beaten crowd.
Here their misfortunes were by no means at an end. A regiment of hussars, issuing from a wood on the right, scattered those who still kept together, and turned what was already a bad defeat into a total rout.
The cheers for Görgei rose again with tenfold vigour; but the general, taking Rakoczy by the hand, exclaimed, "Colonel, you and your brave lads have done to-day what I shall never forget. I trusted you to hold this position, and you have held it. Through me Hungary thanks the gallant 9th Honveds."
Then, amidst another wild outburst of cheering, he went back to the summit.
While his chief talked thus to Rakoczy, Stephen came to me.
In the struggle he had not received a scratch; but it was different with me, and my brother's face looked very grave.
"It's all right, old fellow," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Not one of these cuts is really dangerous. I'm only a little faint through loss of blood. A night's rest will put me straight."
He shook my hand warmly and followed his chief, but I noticed that more than once he turned and looked back sorrowfully.
The combat, which had lasted for six hours, now ceased on the two wings, but continued in the centre with unabated fury.
There the great guns were massed, and the veterans of both armies strove, the one party to oust its opponents, the other to maintain its position.
The guns roared, sheets of flame sprang from their muzzles, shot and shell tore, screaming, through the air. Occasionally what appeared a solid body of living fire shot skyward, accompanied by a loud report, as a powder-tumbrel was struck by one of the flying missiles.
Then for a time everything would be hidden by a dense bank of smoke, and we waited breathlessly to see it lift. But though human courage may be inexhaustible, there is a limit to human endurance; and at last, as if by common consent, both sides ceased to struggle.
"A drawn battle," said Rakoczy, "and I don't think we've had the worst of it. George, you'd better find a surgeon and have those wounds dressed. We shall have to fight again in the morning."
As I had told Stephen, my hurts were not dangerous, and directly the surgeon had bound them up I returned to the front.
The men lay on the hard ground with only their bundas to shelter them from the bitter, piercing cold that crept into their very marrows.
Rakoczy, with several officers and the least fatigued of the troops, was going about succouring the wounded; but he would not allow me to help, insisting that I needed rest. So, wrapped in my mantle, I lay down, and sad at heart watched the myriads of brilliant stars that shone in the unclouded sky.