CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A RUSSIAN VILLAIN.
The celebrated, the historical battle of the Alma was over almost assoon as Phil had been dragged away, for there was no stopping theBritish troops, and once the Russians had turned to retreat, our bravefellows pressed forward till the summit of the slopes was gained. Theyhad fought magnificently against desperate odds, and without ever havingneed to call upon their reserves. And while the infantry had been busy,other arms of the service had been by no means idle. The cavalryprotected the left, and the guns, after firing for some time across theriver, had limbered up, and while some crossed by the bridge whichcarried the post-road, others plunged through the water to its right,and ascending close to Telegraph Hill, raked the Russian batteries andstruggling infantry with their fire.
It was a sight to see--an example of the dogged pluck whichcharacterises our nation; and an example which the French, perched uponthe cliff on the right, did not fail to watch with admiration, and witha secret determination to emulate it on the first occasion.
And now that the enemy had retreated, the British guns still plied themwith shot. Lord Raglan longed to convert their retirement into a rout,but the French had discarded their knapsacks before fording the river,and on the plea, that without their kits it was impossible to pursue,the marshal refused to agree to the plan. Consequently a hard-wonvictory, which might easily, by energetic action, have been changed intoone of the greatest importance, proved of little use, and hardlyaffected the latter part of the campaign at all. It was a lamentablemistake, for had the Russian forces been driven pell-mell from thefield, Sebastopol might have surrendered, and thousands of brave andvaluable lives on both sides might have been saved. As it was, aglorious victory had been achieved at great cost to British and Russiansalike, and all that could be said was that the Crimean campaign hadopened favourably for the Allies.
The victorious army that defeats one portion of the enemy's troops, andthereby causes the whole force to retire, achieves a success which,brilliant though it may be, is as nothing compared with that obtainedwhen the whole of the opposing force is hopelessly crushed andafterwards captured or driven, a mere herd of terror-stricken beings,from the field. For the Allies the Alma was a glorious victory, but nomore. The fact that the general and his staff were isolated from theattacking army at the critical moment, and that in consequence thetroops advanced at wide intervals, while the reserves were never calledinto action, ruined all hopes of a really great and telling success.Had it been otherwise, had the British divisions been poured unceasinglyupon the Russians, they would have engaged the whole of Menschikoffsgreat army, and so severely handled it as to hopelessly mar its futureeffectiveness.
It was a sad, sad army that bivouacked that night near the river Alma.Comrades and dear friends were missing; while the flickering lightshovering over hill and valley showed that the search-parties were atwork, the doctors busy at their merciful and pain-relieving duties, andthe burial-parties delving to prepare huge trenches for the reception ofthe dead. It was a terrible ending indeed to a glorious day, but onethat ever follows the crash and turmoil of a battle. It is impossibleto realise its sadness, its awful horror, till you stand beside one ofthese trenches, and, with helmet in hand and the bright sun overhead,read the last rites over your comrades of a few hours ago, who have beencalled suddenly, and by the aid of your fellow-men, from beside you.
For two days the Allies remained here, and then, loading arabas, theyadvanced by easy stages on Sebastopol. To attack the town and fortressfrom the northern side was impossible, for the harbour intervened, andin consequence the march was resumed till finally the British leftapproached the harbour of Balaclava; the rest of the allied forcesextended along the slopes of the Chersonese heights surrounding thetown, and prepared to throw up earthworks in readiness for a giganticbombardment.
Meanwhile the Russians in Sebastopol were by no means idle. Allcivilians left the town and forts, and, under the great Todleben, theirengineer, thousands set to work with pick and spade to improve theirdefences on the south and mount extra guns, relying on their huge armyin the field to keep the allied enemy busy. Unlimited supplies pouredinto the town, and thus, though the Allies were besieging it on thesouthern side, and the harbour-mouth was blockaded by the opposingfleet, it was in a position to hold out for an indefinite period.
Meanwhile what had become of our hero?
A burly, grey-clad Cossack had charge of Phil, and noticing that he wasexhausted after the struggle in which he had been engaged, he turned andspoke kindly to him.
"We will go along easily till you have got your wind," he said. "Youmust be tired after such a fight. My word, what gluttons you Englishare for hard knocks and desperate battles! I watched from the summit ofthe hill and saw you and your comrade rush to the rescue of the flag.It was a mad act, Englishman, but bravely done. But come, I amforgetting. You are a comrade in distress. Take a sip from thisbottle. It is vodka with a little water added, and will put new lifeinto you."
Phil thanked him heartily, and as soon as they were out of range of theBritish batteries, sat down on a boulder and took a pull at theCossack's flask.
"Thank you, my friend!" he exclaimed earnestly. "A short rest here willdo me a world of good. Have we far to go to-night?"
"What! You speak our language, Englishman! Good!" and the Russian'sbroad and rugged face lit up with a kindly smile. "Yes," he continued,"we have a long way to go. But you are tired. Give me your word thatyou will not attempt to throw me, or get the better of me, and I willlet you mount behind on the crupper. Come, there is no one about, andbefore we join the squadron again you can dismount."
Phil readily gave the required promise, and, vaulting up behind thefriendly Cossack, they pushed on amongst the retreating infantry.
"What has become of my comrades?" asked Phil after a pause, for he wasterribly afraid that Tony and the officer were killed.
"Comfort yourself, Englishman, they too are prisoners, and you will meetthem at the camp; but I doubt whether they will reach there so easily asyou, for Alexoff has charge of your soldier friend, while the bravewounded officer walks by the side of our commander, who is not too kindto us, and hates all Englishmen bitterly. Yes, I fear it will go hardwith him, for we have lost heavily, and Stackanoff will not easilyforget it."
"And is Stackanoff your commander?" asked Phil.
"Yes, that is his name. His excellency rules us with a rod of iron.Ah! my English comrade, there is a little girl waiting for me about halfa verst from Moscow town, and I long to break from this life and returnto her. I have served my time, and should have been free long ago, butStackanoff keeps me. Ah, how I hate him! Some day, perhaps, I shallrepay him, and meanwhile I will fight for my country, for she has needof us all."
"Yes, it will be a big struggle," agreed Phil, "and if your comradesfight as pluckily as they did to-day, Russia will need many brave men tofill the gaps."
The Cossack gave a hearty grunt of satisfaction, for, though longing toreach Moscow, he was at heart a patriot, and liked to hear hisbrothers-in-arms well spoken of.
"We are friends from this day," he said, grasping Phil's hand. "Butprepare to get down. We are nearing our bivouac, and it would not do tolet Stackanoff see you mounted behind me. Wait, though, I will tell youwhen to jump off."
Putting his horse into a gentle trot the Cossack jogged towards acollection of tents and horsemen. Suddenly there was a shout frombehind them, and just as Phil and his captor joined a squadron ofCossacks, a small, fierce-looking man, with a bristling moustache and aface deeply pitted by smallpox, cantered up, dragging beside him anunhappy captive, who was scarcely able to retain his feet.
Phil's blood boiled, for he recognised in an instant that the prisonerwas the officer who had so bravely carried the colour.
Pulling his horse in with an angry jerk close alongside Phil's captor,Stackanoff--for it was none other than he--glared at him, and in a harshvoice, and with many an oath, s
narled: "How is this, Vilnoff! What doyou mean? Are these cursed prisoners then to ride upon his majesty'shorses? Come off, you Englishman!" and, dropping his reins, hestretched out his hand, and, clutching Phil by the shoulder, hurled himto the ground.
It was not very far to fall, but Phil came an undoubted cropper, and thesudden and unlooked-for jar, and a yell of derision which rose from theCossack ranks at the sight, set his blood aflame still more, for he hadnot yet shaken off the excitement of the recent battle. His eyesflashed angrily, and, picking himself up, he was within an ace ofthrowing himself upon the brutal Stackanoff when better counselsprevailed.
The Cossack commander eyed him suspiciously, and then, with a maliciousglance at Vilnoff and the remark, "You, beast that you are, I will dealwith you to-morrow," dug his spurs into his horse with such force thatthe animal sprang forward so suddenly as to upset the unhappy Englishofficer and drag him along the ground.
"Come, get up, you weak-kneed fool," cried Stackanoff, striking at thepoor fellow with his riding-whip.
It was a brutal act, and even the Cossack horsemen were ashamed of it.As for Phil, a blind and unreasoning rage seized him, and, dragging thelasso-noose over his head, he sprang at the Russian, and, lifting himlike a child from the saddle, threw him heavily on the ground and stoodover him, ready to knock him down if he should try to rise, or treat anyother in a similar manner who dared to interfere with him.
"Hurrah, well done, Phil, old boy!" came an excited bellow from theCossack ranks; and next moment Tony, who was there, a prisoner, had tornthe rope which held him from the hands of the man who was in charge ofhim, and, aiming blows right and left with his fists, rushed forward andjoined Phil.
To say that there was a clamour in the camp is to describe the scenemildly. For a moment the horsemen were too astonished to move; then,recovering from their surprise, they lowered their murderous-lookinglances, and would undoubtedly have run all three prisoners through, hadnot another officer ridden into the circle at that moment.
He was a tall, dark man, with heavy features and a settled look ofdepression on his face. Mounted on a magnificent horse, and bearing thebadges of a staff-officer, there was no doubt that he was a person of nolittle importance and authority.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, quietly looking round with acold and gleaming eye, which showed that though outwardly calm he wasmore than angry at the incident. "These are prisoners, by theiruniform, and one an officer too. Do we then murder captives taken inbattle? Does our august master, the Czar, will it that we should takethe lives of gallant Englishmen in cold blood? Answer me, dogs! Whosedoing is this?" And, slowly glancing round the circle, he fixed the menwith his eyes, each one trembling in his turn and feeling relieved whenhis scrutiny was finished.
Then Vilnoff, who had remained close beside Phil all the time, turned inhis saddle and humbly told the officer what had happened.
"Ah, is it so, man?" the latter replied thoughtfully. "Stackanoffcaptures prisoners, and leads them away in nooses, as he would drag anox. And one is wounded, too. Get down, man, and shake this commanderof yours."
Vilnoff obeyed, doing as his officer ordered him, and at the same timeadministering a sly kick. Stackanoff at length opened his eyes, and,struggling to his feet, stared at the new-comer. Meanwhile Phil andTony had relieved their wounded officer of his noose, and were holdinghim erect between them.
"Tell me," began the staff-officer, fixing the Cossack commander with apiercing look, "tell me, my good friend, why you would kill ourprisoners. Have not the enemy many of our brave comrades in theirhands? Do they drag them with ropes and fling the wounded ones to theground? Dog!--worse than dog!--your command is taken from you. Thisnight our sappers return to the fortress and you with them. Go nowbefore I do worse for you!"
Like a beaten cur the Cossack commander saluted, humbly bowed, callingthe staff-officer "Prince", and then retired.
Now was Phil's chance of asking for good treatment for the woundedofficer, and, leaving Tony to support the poor fellow, he advanced tothe Russian prince, and, standing politely at attention, begged that adoctor might be sent for.
"So it seems that besides doing your best to kill one of my officers,you are acquainted with our language," said the prince with a smile,"Yes, my man, your officer shall have good treatment, and so shall you.Here, you! your name? Ah--Vilnoff--then you will take charge of thesemen for to-night. Send this wounded gentleman into the fortress withany of our own that may be leaving. A column has been ordered to startsoon after daybreak."
Turning his horse, he nodded to Phil and cantered away.
"My word, but there will be trouble!" said Vilnoff after a few moments'silence. "That demon Stackanoff is disgraced, and he will never forget.He will learn that it was I--Vilnoff--who told the prince the wholetruth, and he will repay me. Ah, he will not forget! And you, too, youEnglishmen; he will take his revenge on you also. A Cossack neverforgives. But there will be time to talk of this. Come with me. Youcan be free and lie with me beneath my blankets if you will only promiseto stay and not give me the slip."
Phil held a few moments' hurried conversation with Tony before givingthe desired promise.
"We must remember that we are prisoners, Tony," he said, "and thoughthis good fellow, Vilnoff, is evidently inclined to be most friendly,and act differently from the majority of his comrades, thereby makingour lot easier, yet we have a duty to perform. We must escape at theearliest opportunity and try to rejoin our comrades."
"Should think so," Tony grunted. "If it hadn't been for this here chapthere's no saying what would have happened. Most like we should havebeen run through with their pig-stickers same as poor old Sam. ThoseCossacks gave me a taste of their gentle treatment on the way here.They trotted pretty nearly all the way, and if I dragged a bit on therope, the brute who was in charge of me just picked up the slack of hislasso and whopped me over the shoulders. I can feel the sting yet. Hewas a big black-bearded chap, and I shall know him and be able to talkto him in the proper way next time we meets, see if I sha'n't. Yes,Phil, we've got to get out of this as quick as we can. As for thepromise to Vilnoff, you do as you like."
"Very well," said Phil, turning to the Cossack. "How long are we likelyto be in your charge?" he asked.
"Only till to-morrow, Englishman. Then we Cossacks will leave the campand act as outposts and scouts, while you and your friend may be sentinto the fortress. In any case, you will be handed over to theinfantry. Do not fear. I will speak a word for you."
"Then we promise not to attempt to escape while in your charge,Vilnoff."
"Good!" exclaimed the Cossack. "You will promise, and that is enough,for we have heard that an Englishman prides himself upon his honour.After I have left you can do as you wish," he added, smiling in theirfaces. "And perhaps it were better that you should risk anything ratherthan Stackanoff's vengeance. Ah, that man is a brute! Now, follow me,and I will see what can be done in the way of food."
Following the friendly Russian, Phil and Tony at length entered theCossack lines, and, passing between the horses, reached the farther end,where Vilnoff rapidly removed his saddle and bridle, and, picketing hisshaggy animal, went in search of some grain.
"The sooner we are out of this the better," muttered Phil. "Just lookround without attracting attention, Tony. These Cossacks are scowlingat us as if they would like to cut our throats."
Tony drew an extremely black pipe from his pocket, and, holding a cakeof plug tobacco above the bowl, dexterously cut shavings with his knife,ramming them down with his finger till the pipe was filled. Then heplaced it in his mouth, and, calmly stepping over to a fire, which wasburning close at hand, he lifted a blazing stick and applied it to theweed, turning as he did so, and swiftly gazing round the Cossack lines.A crowd of the horsemen were standing a few yards away, scowling heavilyat their prisoners and muttering amongst themselves.
"Ugh! a bigger set of blackguards I never see," Tony remarked calmly.
"`Git', as the Yankees say, is the word for us, Phil. It'll be safeto-night with Vilnoff, but to-morrow, when he's gone, they'll pass ontheir tale to the other coves who've got to look after us, and aprecious poor time of it well have."
At this moment Vilnoff returned, and, beckoning to his prisoners, ledthem to where his blankets and saddle lay. The former were spread uponthe ground, and Phil and Tony sat down on them.
"The horse is fed and watered, and now we will look to ourselves," saidVilnoff, with a friendly smile. "I have managed to get an extraallowance of meat, and here is plenty of bread. Now we will have a fireto ourselves;" and stepping across he quickly returned with a blazingstake. Round this sticks from a bundle tied to his saddle were piled,and soon a cheerful fire was burning. Over the blaze was placed an irontripod, from which a small kettle full of water was suspended, and intothis the meat was thrown, after having been cut into small pieces.
For an hour the three sat gazing at the blazing embers, while Phil andVilnoff discussed the prospects of the campaign. At last the stew wasready. The Russian produced three tin plates and as many mugs, and soonthey were enjoying their meal. A small tot of vodka, diluted withwater, followed, and then, having smoked a last pipe, and beingthoroughly tired out, Phil and Tony lay full length on the rugs, whileVilnoff, producing an enormous kaross of sheep-skin, spread it overthem, crawled beneath it himself, and with a guttural "Good-night,Englishman!" placed his head on his saddle, and was quickly in the landof dreams. As for Phil and Tony, they were worn out, and scarcely hadthey turned over when they too were asleep, in blissful forgetfulness ofthe stirring events of the day, and of the dead and dying, who lay notten miles away on the blood-stained slopes of the Alma.
The next morning the Cossack lines were early astir, and horses and menwere fully ready to set out when two officers came towards them, onedressed as a Cossack, and leading his horse. The men were quickly drawnup, and having explained that he was their new commander, the Cossackofficer turned to his companion and formally handed over the twoprisoners.
"There, comrade," he said, "take them and look well after them. I heatthey have already done harm enough, though, indeed, I cannot say muchagainst them, for Stackanoff was too harsh with the wounded prisoner,and, besides, his dismissal has given me this command and a chance ofdistinguishing myself, and having my name brought before our master theCzar."
The infantry officer answered that he hoped the long-looked-foropportunity would not take long in coming, and beckoning to four men whohad followed him, ordered them to march the prisoners off.
Phil and Tony shook hands heartily with Vilnoff, and the former thankedhim for his kindness.
"If ever we meet again, Vilnoff," he said, "perhaps we shall be able todo as much for you, and in any case, when we get back to our friends, aswe mean to do, we shall tell them how good one of the Cossack horsemenhas been to us. Now, good-bye and good luck! I hope Stackanoff will doyou no harm, and that before long you will be seeking the girl you spokeof near Moscow."
"Ah!" the Russian grunted, while a broad grin overspread his usuallygrave features, "you give me hope, Englishman. Good-bye, and may theblessed Virgin see you safely to your friends!"
Phil and Tony were surrounded at this moment by their infantry guard,and marched smartly away to the rear of the camp. Here they wereordered to enter a large shed adjoining a farmhouse, and this they foundwas filled with other prisoners like themselves.
"Halloo, mates," voices sang out, "when were you taken? What's going tohappen to us?"
Phil hastily explained, and then suddenly seeing the wounded officer whohad borne the colour on the previous day, and who had been removed fromthe Cossack lines a few minutes after the brutal Stackanoff's dismissal,he walked over to him and asked him how he felt.
"Much better, thanks to you, Corporal," answered the young fellow. "Thedoctor dressed my wound, and then got this mattress for me. After all,it was only a flesh wound, and but for severe loss of blood I shouldhave been all right and the colour saved. It is sad to think that itwas captured."
"The colour is all right," answered Phil. "As I was dragged away I sawthat the Highlanders had rescued it."
"That's good news! Excellent news!" exclaimed the young officer intones of relief. "Look here, Corporal, my name is McNeil, and I amsending in an account of our little affair. The doctor here haspromised to have it taken over to our lines under a flag of truce. Whatis your name and your friend's? I am going to recommend you both fordistinguished gallantry."
Phil gave the required information, and after a few more words returnedto Tony flushed with happiness and pride that he and his friend had soearly won praise for their deeds.
Half an hour later four Russians entered, and, lifting the woundedofficer, carried him outside, and with great gentleness placed him in anaraba. The other prisoners were ordered to file out, and in a fewminutes they were marching, surrounded by guards, for the grim fortressof Sebastopol. Phil and Tony longed to escape, for once behind thestone walls of Sebastopol there would be little hope. But noopportunity occurred, and by nightfall they, with their comrades, weresafely under lock and key, the officer having been taken to separatequarters.
A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War Page 11
