One of the Six Hundred: A Novel
constable of Scotland; as such, first subject in the kingdom, and of old
leader of the feudal cavalry. Now he was a simply major in the Rifle
Brigade, and was after severely wounded at the Alma. Undeterred by the
miseries which he saw the soldiers' wives enduring, Sergeant Stapylton,
of my troop, had the courage to take unto himself a wife in this land of
the Prophet; but the fate which threw her in his way was somewhat
remarkable, and made some noise at the time. It came about thus:--The
wife of a soldier of the 28th Regiment, when proceeding through the
corn-fields from our camp to market in Varna, and perhaps considering
how far her little stock of money might go in the purchase of dainty
soochook sausages and cabaubs of herbs, for the delectation of herself
and Private John Smith, was surprised to find herself addressed in
tolerable English by a Greek female slave, who was at work among the
corn, weeding it of the brilliant poppies.
Though fairer skinned than the women of that country, she had the
appearance of a woman of Bulgaria. On her head a cylindrical bonnet, of
harlequin pattern, was tied by a white handkerchief under her chin. She
wore a short black gown, with a deep scarlet flounce, on which were sewn
ornamental pieces of variously-coloured stuffs: a broad scarlet sash,
elaborately needleworked, girt her waist; a few coins, of small value,
were woven into her hair, which was of a rich brown hue, and hung in
profusion over her shoulders, and on her wrists were bracelets of
crystal. She wore the costume of a peasant girl, and her features were
soft and pleasing--even pretty, though very much sunburnt.
In English she begged the soldier's wife to give her a mouthful of water
from a vessel she carried, saying that she "was sorely athirst, and
weary with her work in the field."
Now, Mrs. John Smith, of the 28th Foot, was greatly surprised on hearing
this humble and gentle request made in the language of her native
England, by one who seemed to all intents and purposes a Bulgarian. She
entered into conversation with the stranger, and discovered that she was
actually English by birth and blood, and a native of Essex!
She related that her father had been a merchant captain of London, who,
after her mother's death, had taken her with him in a vessel on a voyage
to the Levant, where they were captured by a Greek pirate. She was then
a mere child. Her father and his crew were put to death, their vessel
plundered, and then set on fire, in the Gulf of Sidra, and destroyed.
Her captor, a thoroughpaced old rascal, had now settled, with all his
ill-gotten gains, as a small landowner, on the shore of the Bay of
Varna, where she was still his bondswoman--his slave.
The soldier's wife begged the girl to follow her, and take refuge in the
British camp, and she was about to comply, when the appearance of her
master or owner, a fierce-looking old fellow, clad in a jacket and cap,
both of brown sheepskin, his sash bristling with knives, yataghans, and
pistols, altered her feeble resolution; and though the wife of Private
Smith shook her gingham umbrella with vigour, and threatened him with
the "p'leece," and the main-guard to boot, he, nothing daunted, replied
only by a contemptuous scowl, and dragging the slave girl into his
house, secured the door.
It chanced luckily, however, that Sergeant Stapylton, of ours, with a
mounted party of ten lancers, was returning along the Silistria
road--where he had been sent in search of forage--and to him the
soldier's wife appealed, and detailed what had taken place. He at once
surrounded the house, and demanded the girl, in what fashion or language
I know not; but he made the proprietor aware that fire or sword hung
over him if she was not surrendered instantly.
Armed to the teeth, the Greek appeared at the door, and threatened him
with the _vaivode_ of the district, and the _kaimakan_, or deputy of the
Pasha of Roumelia, and of various other dignitaries; but Stapylton put
the point of his lance to the throat of the old pirate, who found in it
an argument so irresistible, that he at once gave up the girl, whom our
fellows brought with them in triumph to the camp, where a subscription
was made for her, and she was a nine days' wonder; and that this little
bit of romance might not be without its _finale_, she ultimately became
the wife of Sergeant Stapylton.
Our regiment was encamped eighteen miles distant from Varna, in the
lovely vale of Aladyn, surrounded by forests of the finest timber, where
the springs of water were numerous and pure, and where the grass and
verdure were of the richest description; yet there it was that
disease--the fell cholera and dysentery--broke out among us, and
decimated our ranks more surely and more severely than the Russian
bullets could have done. But amid their horrors folly ever found its
way; and several of our people, French and British, got into scrapes
with the Bulgarian and Turkish damsels, especially the latter, who are
rather prone to intrigue, notwithstanding the dangers attendant on it,
in such a land of jealousy and the prompt use of arms. Perhaps the
_yashmac_, and the mystery it gave to their faces, of which the ever
brilliant eyes alone were visible, and the mouth--usually its worst
feature--was hidden, had much to do with this.
By the Koran, aged women alone are permitted to "lay aside their outer
garments, and go unveiled." A very old history of
Constantinople--Delamay's, I think--relates that a pasha, remarkable for
the size and ugliness of his nose, married, before the kadi, a lady who,
on being unveiled, proved to his great disgust to be exceedingly plain.
"To whom, of all your friends," she asked, with her most winning smile,
"am I to show my face?"
"To all the world," said he; "but hide it from me!"
"My lord, patience," she whispered, humbly.
"Patience have I none!" he exclaimed, wrathfully.
"_Allah kerim!_ you must have a great deal of it to have borne that
great nose so long about you," she retorted, as she hurled her slipper
at his head.
A pair of dark and brilliant eyes, sparkling through the folds of a fine
white muslin _yashmac_, were very nearly the means of ridding me of
Berkeley, and the impending duel, while we lay at Varna.
He and Frank Jocelyn, of my troop, a smart and handsome young fellow,
whilom the prime bowler and stroke oar at Oxford, as good-hearted and
open-handed a lad as any in the service, began an intrigue with two
Turkish damsels, whom they found at prayer before an _aekie_, or
Mahommedan wayside chapel, and whom they followed home to a kiosk in the
vale of Aladyn.
Their love affair did not make much progress, being simply maintained by
tossing oranges in the dusk over a high wall, which was furnished with a
row of vicious-looking iron spikes. The oranges of Jocelyn and Berkeley
contained notes written in French and Italian, of which the girls could
make nothing, of course, the language of the educated Turks being a
mixture of Turkish, Persian, and Arabic, the former being spoken by the
peasantry alone; so the ladies responded by oranges, in which flowers
were stuck, till on the fourth or fifth night, in reply to a very
amatory epistle, souse came over the garden wall an iron six-inch shell,
with its fuse burning!
Our Lotharios had only time to throw themselves flat on the ground, when
it exploded in the dark with a dreadful crash; but without hurting
either of them, and they retired, somewhat crestfallen, while hearing
much loud laughter and clapping of hands within the garden wall. After
this rough hint, they went no more near the ladies, who proved to be the
wife of a _yuse bashi_, or captain of Turkish artillery, and her female
slave.
While the months we wasted so fruitlessly at Varna crept slowly away,
there occurred to me a singular adventure--in fact, one so remarkable in
its import, and in reference to the future, that it still makes a deep
impression upon me; and this episode I shall detail in the following
chapter.
*CHAPTER XXXI.*
So gaze met gaze,
And heart saw heart, translucid through the rays,
One same harmonious universal law,
Atom to atom, star to star can draw,
And heart to heart. Swift darts, as from the sun,
The strong attraction, and the charm is done.
THE NEW TIMON.
To the letter I wrote Louisa from Gallipoli no answer was ever returned.
Had it reached her, or been intercepted, and by whom?
I began to associate Berkeley--groundlessly, certainly--with her
singular silence. All my former animosity to him returned; but, for the
personal safety of the survivor, our strangely deferred meeting could
not take place till we found ourselves in the vicinity of the enemy. I
feared, too, that he might discover how completely she had ignored--or,
to all appearance, forgotten--my existence. To me there was pure gall
in the idea that he should have cause for triumph in suspecting it.
I constantly wore her engagement ring--the pearl with the blue enamel.
Did she gaze on my Rangoon diamond as frequently as I did on the tiny
gold hoop which once encircled her finger, and had hence become a holy
thing to me? I was now beginning to fear that she did not.
The past had but one feature, one which every thought and memory seemed
metaphorically to hinge; and the future but one object--the same--around
which every hope was centred--Louisa. Via the Bosphorus, the mail
steamers came puffing regularly into Varna Bay. They seemed to bring
letters to all but me, and gradually my heart became filled by anxiety
and fear.
Louisa might be ill--_dead_! I thrust aside that thought as impossible;
I must have heard of so terrible a calamity from Cora, or from Wilford,
who was in constant correspondence with his sister.
Her answer to my Gallipoli letter might have miscarried. Why her letter
alone? Those of my uncle and of cousin Cora came at the requisite time,
and in course of post. Could it actually be that Louisa was forgetting
me? Her last look--her eyes so full of grief--her last kiss, so full of
tremulous tenderness, forbade this fear, and yet it was passing strange
that neither Cora nor Sir Nigel ever mentioned her in their
correspondence with me.
I frequently prayed that her love might be as lasting in her as it
proved agonizing to me.
Studhome knew my secret. To conceal from him that I was miserable was
impossible, but honest Jack's advice "to take heart of grace--to
remember that there were as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it,
that--
"'There were maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
Who would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar,'"
and a great deal more to the same effect and purpose, proved but sorry
comfort and counsel.
On a Saturday evening I had tiffed with him in his tent. We had no
second parade or anything to do. He vowed that he was tired of his
studies, which generally consisted of the _Racing Calendar_, Hart's
"Annual Army List," "White's Farriery," and the "Field Exercise and
Evolutions for the Cavalry," varied by _Punch_ and _Bell's Life_, so we
ordered our horses, and rode to Varna, the variety and unwonted bustle
of which afforded the means of amusement and relief, after the quiet and
monotony of our camp in the green wooded vale of Aladyn.
We put up our horses at an old rickety Turkish khan, which an
enterprising French sutler had turned into a species of hotel, for over
the door a gay signboard, painted in tricolour, informed us that it was
"_Le restaurant de l'Armee d'Orient, pour messieurs les officiers et
sous-officiers_."
There we had a bottle of excellent Greek wine, in a large whitewashed
room, full of French officers, of every branch of the service and of all