One of the Six Hundred: A Novel
to light the glancing bayonets of the advancing columns in our rear; and
now before us opened the vale of the Belbeck, with all its groves of
vine and olive, as we crowned an eminence, from whence we could see the
woody ravines of Khutor-Mackenzie, and, ten miles to the westward, the
gilded dome of Sebastopol shining like a huge inverted bowl. From this
point the road lay through woods so thick, that we found it impossible
to preserve much military order, and the utmost vigilance was necessary
on the part of our exploring squadron, as scattered troops of the enemy
were supposed to be in our vicinity.
Lord Raglan, with his staff, usually rode in advance of our main body;
but on this morning my little party was in advance of the whole. As we
defiled between the trees, that covered all the slope, by sections, by
subdivisions, and frequently by single files, struggling along at a slow
pace, but with our horses well in hand, I had repeatedly to address
Berkeley in a tone of reprimand, for the loose and unnecessary manner in
which he was permitting the men to straggle, and his mode of response
was rather sullen, defiant, and, on one occasion, jeering.
"Aw--the dooce! very easy for you to speak. I didn't make the road to
Belbeck," he would mutter. And once he added, "A demmed fool I not to
send in my papers long ago--aw--aw--doocid deal too good-looking to be
shot in a ditch."
Suddenly I called out--
"Front form troops at wheeling distance, and halt!" for now I perceived
that Sir Harry Scarlett, who was in advance with four lancers, halted
them, and sent back a corporal, who came along at a hand-gallop.
"Hullo, Travers, old fellow, what's up, do you think--aw--aw--what's the
row in front?" asked Berkeley, with haste and anxiety, as he stuck his
glass in his eye, and fidgeted in his saddle.
"The Russians, no doubt," said Travers, drily, as his handsome face
brightened with courage and excitement.
"Ah, I thought so," said I. "Are they in force, Corporal Jones?"
"We can't tell, sir; but lance-heads, and bayonets too, are visible
among the coppice in front."
By this time the two troops had formed, and halted in open column,
quietly and orderly, the leading three files of each having advanced for
three horses' lengths, and then reined in as if upon parade.
"We can't well use the lance here. Unsling carbines! Remain where you
are, Travers," said I. "Mr. Berkeley and two files from the right,
forward with me--trot!"
I drew my sword, cast loose my holster flaps, and rode on with the
little party, all of whom followed me willingly enough, save one.
On joining the advanced party, we made ten horsemen altogether.
Proceeding farther, to where the ground dipped somewhat suddenly down
towards the Belbeck river, we could see, about a mile distant, a body of
Russian cavalry, whose spiked leather helmets and lance-heads glittered
in the sun. They were drawn up in line, their flanks being covered by
thickets, which concealed their actual strength, so that we knew not
whether they were a mere squadron or an entire brigade.
Berkeley, who was nervously busy with his powerful racing-glass,
muttered--
"I see an officer on a white horse. By Jove! a doocid swell--aw,
aw--all over decorations."
After using my own telescope, I exclaimed--
"He is the same fellow we released in the evening after the Alma, when
Bolton came up with orders for the cavalry to fall back and abandon
prisoners. I know him by his grim visage and enormous white moustache."
"Aw--aw--a general officer, I take him to be."
"Now, lads," said I, "be steady. I think I saw the glitter of a bayonet
among that brushwood in front. There may be an ambush prepared
thereabout, and into that we must not fall."
I could not help thinking how useful a few hand-grenades would have been
on this occasion, as they would soon have solved our doubts.
To have fallen back would have served only to draw their fire upon us
instantly, if any men were concealed there.
"Follow me, lads!" I exclaimed. "Mr. Berkeley, keep the rear rank men
in their places."
"Captain Norcliff, asthore!" cried Lanty O'Regan, shaking his lance,
"lead the way, and, be me troth, we'll ride through the whole rookawn o'
them Roosians!"
Followed by my nine horsemen, I rode resolutely forward a few
lance-lengths, my heart beating wildly with excitement; but a climax was
soon put to that, for a hoarse voice in a strange language suddenly rang
among the underwood; fire flashed redly on both sides of us; I heard the
whistle of passing bullets, and amid the explosion of thirty Minie
rifles a double cry, as Berkeley and one of my men fell heavily on the
turf. The horse of the former was shot; but the poor lancer was
mortally wounded, and his charger galloped madly away.
"Good-bye, old nag. You will never carry Bill Jones again, I fear,"
cried the bleeding corporal, as he was hurrying to the rear with his
lance on his shoulder, when a second shot pierced his back, and finished
his career.
"Retire, Travers, retire!" I shouted at the fullest pitch of my voice;
"right about, lads, and away!"
The firing from the thicket was resumed, and another lancer fell dead
from his saddle.
"Aw--aw--for Heaven's sake, don't leave me here!" cried Berkeley,
piteously, while we heard the steel ramrods ringing, as the Russians
cast about and reloaded.
While the rest of my party retired at a gallop, I caught the fallen
lancer's horse by the bridle, and--in less time than I take to write
it--dragged up the pale and crestfallen Berkeley, who scrambled rather
than mounted into the blood-covered saddle, and we galloped off
together, another shot or two adding spurs to our speed, and strewing
the leaves about us. So close were we to this ambush that I heard many
of the percussion caps snapping, as the Russian muskets doubtless
remained foul since the Alma.
Berkeley's fresh horse carried him half its length before mine; he was
riding with wild despair in his heart; and bitter malice glittering in
his eye, for he felt that I had been heaping coals of fire upon his
head. I could read the double emotion in his pale face, as he glanced
fearfully back.
He had drawn a pistol from its holster, and, inspired by the spirit of
the devil, the unnatural wretch discharged it full into my horse's head!
Wildly it plunged into the air, and then fell forward on its head, and,
as its forelegs bent, I toppled heavily over, and fell beneath it.
The whole affair passed in a moment, and the next saw me surrounded by
fierce and exulting Russian riflemen, with muskets clubbed and bayonets
charged.
*CHAPTER XLIII.*
ALBANY. O save him! save him!
GONERIL. This is mere practice, Gloster:
By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquished,
But cozened and beguiled. SHAKSPEARE.
The prayer of Hezekiah for the prolongation of life flashed on my
memory, and rose to my lips, as with rage, and almost with despair at my
heart, I struggled to my feet, half-stunned, and groping blindly for my
sword-hilt, which hung from my wrist by its gold knot and tassel.
Just as I grasped it firmly, the nearest rifleman charged me with his
fixed bayonet, which ran through the left side of my full-dress jacket,
and came off. Clutching his weapon by the barrel, I closed in, and
plunged my sword twice into his breast. As he fell back, groaning
heavily, the bayonet of another struck me; but luckily, those fellows,
who belonged to the Kazan column, had blunted their weapons by broiling
beef on them over their wood fires.
A third rifleman fired full at my head; but, by a singular chance, the
nipple of his rifle was blown out by the explosion, and buried itself in
his forehead, just above the nose, severing the optic nerve, and nearly
forcing his eyes out. (In two hours after he died, raving mad.)
This incident created, for a moment or two, a diversion in my favour;
but a Cossack officer, armed with a great crooked sabre, assailed me.
Like one of Caesar's Legionaries of old, this fellow seemed bent on
cutting only at my face; and having some regard for my personal
appearance, I was not sorry when he fell backwards over my dead horse,
and in doing so, snapped his blade off near the hilt.
Could I have reached my holsters, in which were a pair of six-chambered
Colts, I might have escaped; but now I was hemmed in on all hands by a
band of fierce, ugly, beetle-browed, and snub-nosed Russians, in flat
caps and long great-coats.
In an instant my gold epaulettes, my rings--Louisa's miniature and her
ring, the treasured pearl in blue enamel--my purse and watch, were rent
from me as if I had been in the hands of common footpads; and one of
those who assisted in such work was the Cossack officer, whose name I
afterwards ascertained to be Lieutenant Adrian Trebitski of the
Tchernimoski corps.
In fact, he made himself very busy about the knees of my trousers in
search of my portmonnaie (as the Russians usually carry their purses
strapped to the knee), while his Corporal found it in my pocket; and
each acquisition was greeted by a torrent of uncouth sounds, expressive,
I presume, of great satisfaction.
My sabretache was torn away. It contained only my uncle's letter, which
I afterwards learned, was duly translated into choice French for any
secrets it might contain, and for the information of Princes Menschikoff
and Gortschikoff, who, I hope, were much edified by Sir Nigel's
description of Mr. Brassy Wheedleton, and of Scotch prigs in general.
Having stripped me of every article of value, and ripped all the gold
lace from my lancer jacket and blue pantaloons, I have no doubt those
savage wretches would soon have despatched me; but a wounded officer
rode up--the same personage with the many decorations and long grim
moustache. He ordered them to desist, striking those who were near him
with a whip that was attached to his bridle. He then placed me in charge
of his aide-de-camp, Captain Anitchoff, a fashionable-looking young
Muscovite, who wore the light blue and yellow-laced uniform of a hussar
corps (the Princess Maria Paulowna's), and who has since that time
published a work on the Crimean campaign. He courteously informed me,
in French, that he was on the general staff of the Russian army, and
that the name of my preserver was Lieutenant-General Karlovitch Baur.
He also desired me to remain close by his side, while we proceeded
quickly to the rear. By this time, every trace of Travers and my
squadron had disappeared.
And so I was actually a prisoner!
I was, perhaps, the sole trophy of the Russian army, so they were
disposed to make the most of me. I had a special escort of a corporal
and two well-bearded and ill-washed Cossacks, who rode one on each side
of me, and one in the rear, each trussed up among his forage plunder and
fleas--their shaggy little horses being so laden that little more than
their noses and tails were visible. If I lagged, the corporal used to
grin and shake his lance ominously; and when not occupied in scratching
themselves, they were very merry and not unpleasant, though totally
incomprehensible companions.
I knew not in what direction they were conveying me, and our mutual
ignorance of each other's language prevented me from discovering. I
could but trust to chance and patience.
Meanwhile, my friends were, I am pleased to say, under no small concern
on my account elsewhere.
The army halted at Belbeck, where five hundred sick--among whom were
many of my lancer comrades--were left behind, all ill with cholera.
Lord Raglan occupied the chateau of a fugitive Russian noble, and there
Travers rode to report that he had seen the Russians in strength among