CHAPTER TWENTY.
FROM THE MOUTH OF THE LION'S DEN.
Never before had our hero so much need of courage and quick resolutionas on that occasion, when, helpless to save himself, he slid like a sackdown the chimney, and plumped into the very presence of his bitterenemy. But he was the kind of lad to make the best of a difficultsituation. It was not for nothing that he had joined heart and soul incricket and football, and in every manly game. He had gone through aschooling indeed which no English lad should neglect, and which no oneever regrets; for even in later days, when the cares and duties of lifeprevent one from indulging in the old games, the quickness and surenessof eye and the presence of mind still remain, and may at any momentextricate one from danger or difficulty.
Phil was a young man whose muscles had been hardened in every game, andwhose judgment could be relied on to count the chances of victory ineach. Here was a game--one, indeed, of life and death--and instantlyrecovering from his surprise, and recognising that immediate action wasnecessary, he sprang to his feet and hurled himself upon the astonishedRussian before the latter could grasp his sword. Linked together in aclose embrace they swayed from side to side, but Phil had the advantageof size, and squeezing his adversary till the breath was driven from hisbody, he lifted him in his strong arms and dashed him to the floor.
"Great heavens! you've done for him," cried McNeil, kneeling by theRussian's side. "Look, his neck is broken."
"Then his death be on his own head," gasped Phil. "If I had not killedhim, he would soon have had me shot, and besides, my tumbling down thatchimney would have spoilt all our chances of escape. Now he's dead, andif we are to get away, it must be done to-night, for should the guardsdiscover what has happened it will mean little mercy. As likely as notwe should be taken out and shot before half an hour had passed."
"But what about the jailer?" asked McNeil. "We can be sure that he hasheard nothing suspicious or he would have been in here by this. He isaware, though, that Stackanoff is with me, and he will be waitingimpatiently for his return?"
"Yes, he will be getting impatient before long," mused Phil. "There isnothing else to be done at present. We will wait till his patience isexhausted, then my friend and I will knock, and as soon as he comes inwe will collar him."
"It seems desperately risky, but I suppose it is the only way, Western.If you get hold of him, though, it will save the trouble of climbingthrough the chimney, an acrobatic feat which, in my present condition, Ishall not be sorry to be spared."
"Quite so. I had not thought of that, McNeil," said Phil. "Now I willcall Tony. I shall only be gone a few minutes."
Slipping into the chimney, Phil soon regained his own cell.
"Did you hear anything, Tony?" he asked shortly.
"Nothing, mate; but what's been keeping yer so long. You look flurriedtoo. What's happened?"
Phil explained that Stackanoff was dead.
"We must get away to-night, Tony," he said, with decision, "and first ofall we must capture the jailer. He is to open the door at Stackanoffsknock, and I propose that we throw ourselves upon him. Now, listen.After knocking, I will stand behind the door so that he cannot see me,and will call to him to come in. You will crouch behind me, and bangthe door to. Then we will pull him down and gag him. Bring yourblanket with you."
Meanwhile Pierre had listened anxiously, his ferrety little eyesshifting from face to face.
"What is this that happens?" he asked eagerly. "Monsieur makes zedisappearance up ze chimney, then he come back again."
"We must get away to-night, do you understand?" Phil replied, lookingsearchingly at him. "Are you willing to come?"
"Vraiment, I will accompany you, monsieur," answered Pierrehesitatingly. "Mais--ah, what will ze Russian with ze face severe do tous? Surely he will make ze bang."
"Oh, you little coward!" murmured Phil bitterly, "you will spoileverything yet. I tell you, Pierre," he added, clutching him by bothshoulders, "if you wish to stay, do so; but you will probably be shot asa spy. That will be your bad luck in having been washed ashore with us.If you attempt the escape with us, beware how you behave, for shouldyou make a sound to betray us, I will kill you. Now, stay here, andprepare to accompany us. We shall be back in half an hour. Come, Tony,it is already dark, and we must capture that fellow."
"Then in a half of the hour you make ze return," said the littleFrenchman, looking as though he had smothered his fears. "Bien, I shallbe prepared.
"Aha, my good fellows!" he muttered in his own language a few momentslater, with quivering lips. "You have gone up the chimney, and will beback in half an hour. Why should I die for your foolishness? It wouldbe suicide."
Creeping to the chimney, the crafty little coward listened while Philand Tony slid into the other cell. Then he stepped to the door, andprepared to give the alarm, hoping thereby to escape the fate whichwould certainly befall the others if discovered. But, overcome byterror of the consequences, he remained irresolute for more than tenminutes ere he dared to shout, for he had a wholesome terror of thefair-haired young Englishman who had brought him back to consciousnesswhen lashed to the wreckage, and moreover there was an ominous look inTony's eyes as that burly young giant looked at him for the last timebefore entering the chimney.
Meanwhile Phil and Tony had entered the other cell.
"Now for it," said Phil. "McNeil, you are too lame to help us, so hadbetter lie down on your blankets. Tony, tear up the blanket and get thegag ready. You quite understand?" he went on, when all was finished."You crouch behind me, and slam the door as soon as the fellow comes in.Then we jump on him. It is dark enough now, so we'll knock."
Taking the precaution to drag Stackanoff's body into the corner behindthe door, Phil knocked loudly, and, hearing footsteps outside, cried outin a feigned voice and in the fierce manner in which the dead Russianseemed to have been in the habit of addressing his subordinates, "Hi,you, fool that you are! Why do you not listen, and let me out?"
A second later there was the sound of a key in the lock, and almost atthe same moment a most unearthly scream.
The escaping prisoners looked at one another with doubting eyes, butbefore a question could be asked the door was pushed open cautiously.Phil clutched its edge, so that it could not easily be closed, andwaited. Then again came the scream, this time more clearly heard, whilethe voice of Pierre could be distinguished crying at the top of hisvoice, and still in broken English, as if that would be betterunderstood by the Russians, "Help! help! Ze English prisonaire make zeescape!"
"Ah! treachery!" gasped the jailer, stepping back and attempting toclose the door.
Phil darted out and made a grab at the man, but with a cry of terror theRussian took to his heels, and raced up the steep flight of steps, wherehe turned towards the town.
Phil followed him to the top of the stairway, and then returnedhurriedly.
"He has got away, and has gone to call the nearest guard," he cried inhurried tones. "Tumble out, you fellows. They will be back here in aquarter of an hour or less, and if we are to give them the slip, it mustbe now. What are you doing, Tony? Come here, you idiot!"
Tony crept from the chimney, into which he was in the act of climbing,and slunk back to his friend's side abashed, and yet full ofindignation.
"Going to leave that cabbage-eating French monkey?" he asked angrily."What's he done? Why, just spoilt all our chances; that's all."
"It is the very thing you will be doing, old man," answered Phil. "Now,give me one of those bars, and keep one yourself. McNeil, I'm ready, ifyou are. Here is Stackanoff's sword for you. As for that littlecoward, he has done all the harm he can possibly do us, so we will leavehim to his own devices."
They grasped their weapons, and Phil and Tony, placing themselves oneither side of the wounded lieutenant to help him along, hurried out ofthe cell, up the stairs, and ran for a deep ditch which they had noticedas they were marched to prison. It seemed to be a trench constructed tocom
mand the rear of some of the fortifications, and for the moment wouldprove an excellent shelter.
"Listen, I hear the guard returning!" whispered McNeil, "and the bellthat is ringing must be a warning to announce that prisoners haveescaped. Whew! that was a nasty one!" he exclaimed a moment later, forthe guard had advanced with a blazing torch to assist in the search,and, the street being visible from the British trenches, and the rangeknown to a nicety, a shell had been pitched with precision just in frontof the group. The torch was instantly extinguished and all was darknessagain, but the sound of distant marching, and an occasional ordersharply given, proved that troops were being hastened from theirquarters to patrol the streets and cut off the escaping prisoners.
"They know that the harbour is our only chance," said Phil bitterly. "Ifear it looks like failure this time, McNeil."
"It does look bad," agreed the latter sadly. "What hard luck, when wehad all set our hearts so much upon it!"
"Are you game to try the other way?" asked Phil eagerly.
"Game!" answered McNeil enthusiastically; "just you try me. I've hadenough of Russian prisons for a lifetime, and I tell you I would ratherdie than go back."
"Then we go forward," said Phil shortly. "Keep close together and steerbetween the forts. If anyone challenges, leave me to answer."
Climbing from the ditch, they set their faces for the British camp andcrept forward cautiously till they recognised the Malakoff looming bigand shadowy in front. Phil led the way and attempted to make out theposition of the earthworks and trenches. "There--there they are, only afew yards in front of us!" he whispered eagerly. "Hush! down for yourlives!"
A figure suddenly rose up in front of them and listened. Evidently theman was a sentry, and had heard something suspicious, for next moment hechallenged loudly.
Long ere this Phil had learnt that polite words are not usually wastedon Russian privates, and he determined to take advantage of the fact.
"Idiot!" he answered roughly. "Cannot you see that I am your officer,and can I not give instructions to my lieutenant without yourchallenging?"
"My orders are to challenge everyone," the sentry answered humbly."Excellency, give the countersign and I shall know you better. Somedogs of prisoners have recently escaped, for I heard the bell, thereforeI must be cautious."
"My word, we're done again!" groaned Phil. Then taking the bull by thehorns, he advanced a pace and said roughly, "How can I remember the wordevery night after all these weeks? Wait, though--ah, was not the firstletter `N'?"
"That is right, excellency; and our master the Czar's name alsocommences with that letter," the sentry replied encouragingly.
"Nicolas!" cried Phil boldly.
"Excellency, your pardon on my insisting; pass whither you will. All iswell."
"That is good, fellow," Phil cried. "Come, comrades, we have businesswith the Malakoff."
Another fire minutes, and the sentry and trench were passed. Skirtingby the great fortress, they bore up for the British trenches, crossingas they did so several rows of ditches and earthworks. Then they laydown and listened. Close at hand there was a hum of voices, while awayon the left a sharp musketry fire was being maintained, the flicker ofthe exploding powder cutting the darkness at every second. In front allwas pitch blackness in the valley in which they stood, but higher up onthe elopes beyond fires were burning, and dark figures were occasionallysilhouetted against them as they passed.
"Now for it!" whispered Phil. "If there is any firing lie on yourfaces. We don't want to be killed by our own side."
Sneaking through the mud and mire on hands and knees the three creptforward in absolute silence. Soon the last trench was passed, and theBritish earthworks loomed in the distance. At last they were close toliberty and friends. Not more than sixty yards separated them, andalready the murmur of the men's voices could be heard, when, with asharp exclamation, Phil disappeared.
There was a scuffle, a startled cry of astonishment and fear, and theloud report of a musket.
"Quick, help me!" Phil cried from the rifle-pit into which he hadfallen. Then there was a choked cry, and all was silence for a fewmoments.
With a growl of rage Tony threw himself into the pit, almost smashingPhil as he fell.
"That you, Tony?" the latter asked coolly.
"Yes, it's me sure enough, mate. Are yer hurt, old man?"
"Not a bit, but it was a hard struggle. I fancy the Russian is dead,for I gave him a tremendous blow on the head with my iron bar. Now, letus push on, for the alarm has been given, and it will mean capture if westay."
But the Russian sharpshooters had taken the alarm. Occupying a row ofpits, each of which was sufficiently large to hold one man, they hadorders to worry the besiegers by their fire, and to be always on thelook-out for an assault. At the report of their comrade's weapon theyimagined that they were about to be attacked, and poured volley aftervolley at the British earthworks. Instantly the sharp crackle of Minierifles broke out, and Phil and his friends found themselves in theawkward position of receiving fire from their friends.
"Down in here for your lives," cried Phil; and within half a minute theywere wedged in the pit, while a perfect hail of bullets swept overhead.Both sides imagined that a sortie was taking place, and the alarmspreading, the guns on either side opened fire, and a perfect torrent ofshell hummed in the air and burst with deafening crashes in thedarkness. A loud scuffling was then heard in the British trenches,there was a sharp order, and a host of dark figures sprang over theearthworks and dashed at the Russians.
Phil and his friends lay flat upon their faces, while the Russians inthe other pits for the most part fled for their lives. Those who didnot were bayoneted.
"Hallo, come out of it, you skulkers!" a voice cried; and, looking up,Phil caught sight of the figures of English soldiers at the mouth of thepit.
"Don't fire," he shouted, "we are friends. We are escaping prisoners."
"Now, then, none of yer sauce," the same voice answered wrathfully."Most like you're deserters. Out yer come and let's take a look atyer."
In a trice they were dragged ignominiously from the pit.
"Why, what's this?" the sergeant, who had charge of the party,exclaimed. "The light's bad, but blow me if there ain't two Britishofficers here. Get round 'em, boys, and bring 'em along."
With a rush the group of soldiers returned, bearing Phil and his friendswith them.
"Now, send along that lamp," cried the sergeant, as soon as they weresafely sheltered by the earthworks. "Blow me, but I'm right. They'reBritishers or I'm a wrong 'un," he cried, lifting the lantern to theirfaces. "Hi, pass the word to Mr Ellis there."
A moment later an officer came hurrying along.
"What is all this commotion about?" he asked sharply. "The whole campis disturbed, and you seem to have made a sortie, Sergeant."
"Quite right, sir! There was a bit of a ruction over in themrifle-pits, and as I knew you was anxious to teach them Russians alesson, and the boys was mad to get at 'em, why, we did a rush andcleared 'em out like rats. We found these three there. They said theywere escaping prisoners, so we brought 'em along."
"Who are you, then?" asked the officer, examining them by the aid of hislantern.
"Why, bless my life if it isn't Western, reported drowned at sea!" heexclaimed with a start. "You're like a jack-in-the-box, Western. Whoare your friends?"
Phil mentioned their names.
"We had a near squeak for it," he said faintly. "By the way, Ellis, isthere a doctor near? McNeil is in need of dressing, and I fear I havegot a bullet in my ribs."
That was the case. At the first outburst of firing, a bullet had struckhim in the side like a sledge-hammer, but Phil kept his groans tohimself. Now, however, when all need for further silence and exertionhad passed, he sat down suddenly, and went off into a dead faint,frightening poor Tony almost out of his life. A few drops of brandywere forced between his teeth, and by the time he had been placed on
ablanket he was conscious again. Then he was carried with greatgentleness up to the field-hospital.
"Another bullet wound, my lad," said the surgeon kindly. "That makesthe fifth I have seen already to-night. Let me have a look at it;" andwith the greatest sympathy and gentleness he removed Phil's clothing andexamined the wound.
"Ah! a nasty one," he said gravely. "Two ribs badly smashed, and thelung injured. Not fatal, though. Oh, no! not by any means. We'lldress it carefully and get you out of this."
Phil gave an exclamation of disgust.
"It's awfully bad luck, doctor," he said testily. "Here I am, scarcelylanded on the Crimea, and already I have been captured twice. And now Iam to be sent away for the second time. Couldn't I possibly stay? I amvery anxious to serve to the end of the campaign with my regiment."
"Yes, I know you are, my lad, but Scutari is where you are going," thedoctor answered firmly. "Twice captured since you landed! Yes, but youforget to mention that in the short time that has elapsed, you haveescaped twice from the Russians, taken part in two pitched battles, andjoined in a famous cavalry charge, not to mention having been promotedto a commission for distinguished gallantry. Now, no more talking.To-morrow you go, and your friend too."
Expostulations were unavailing, and on the following day Phil andLieutenant McNeil were carried to Balaclava and hoisted on board a shipbound for the great hospital at Scutari, with her decks full of sick andwounded soldiers. As was only natural, Tony accompanied them.
Before the convoy set out from camp the news of their reappearance hadgot wind, and many officers of the 30th, besides friends from thebattalion of Grenadier Guards and Lieutenant McNeil's regiment, cameflocking to see them. Phil was scarcely in a condition to talk, andTony, who had, as it were, mounted guard over him, insisted that thedoctor's orders should be obeyed. But he himself was quite ready todilate on their adventures, and he did so in a manner which would havemade the bashful Phil blush. At length they were on the sea _en route_for Scutari, and within two days, thanks to the cold and bracing air,and an excellent constitution, Phil was able to lie in a hammock, ondeck, suspended between the mast and the top of the saloon skylight.
Douglas McNeil had taken the greatest liking for his young friend, andto the latter's secret astonishment, spent hours in gazing at himthoughtfully, as though he were trying to recollect something. Verysoon both were on the closest terms of intimacy.
"What are you troubling about?" asked Phil with a wan smile one day,noticing the look of perplexity on his friend's face.
Douglas was silent for a few minutes. "I will tell you," he said atlast. "From the very first there has been something about you that hasstruck me; some strong resemblance to my dear mother. Sometimes Ithink, too, that you and I have features much in common. You neverspeak of your parents, Phil, and I have never liked to ask you, but ifyou care to tell me I should be glad to hear."
"Parents!" said Phil, with a short and somewhat bitter laugh. "I neverknew my real father and mother. I was sold at the age of two, andthat's a good long time ago."
"Sold! Who sold you? Where did it take place, and who paid the money?"Douglas asked excitedly, coming closer to Phil.
"As far as I have been able to learn from my adopted father, a poorwoman, with many children, sold me. Where, though, I do not recollect Iwas sold to Mr Western, at one time an officer in the army, but formany years a clergyman."
Douglas McNeil stared at him with wide-open eyes, and seemed strangelyexcited.
"Listen, Phil," he said earnestly. "About twenty years ago my aunt, mymother's younger sister, fell in love with a poor officer in the navy.She married him against the wishes of her parents, and my grandfather,who was a stubborn hard-hearted man, refused to have anything more to dowith her, refused even to hear of her or help her in any way. A yearlater Frank Davidson, the husband, was drowned at sea, and my auntbrought a boy into the world. For five years her relatives heardnothing. But the old grandfather had already repented of his harshness,and enquiries were set on foot. It is an odd story, Phil, and is fullof sadness. That unhappy aunt of mine was friendless, and to obtain apost as governess was compelled to part with her child. You can imaginethe poor thing's grief and loneliness. She placed the child with acertain woman who kept a kind of baby-farm in the midlands. For a yearall went well, but my aunt died very suddenly of fever, and we learntafterwards, from people who lived near the baby-farm, that the boy wewere in search of was disposed of to a clergyman. The neighboursremembered having seen him. I suppose one cannot blame the woman incharge, though the thing sounds hateful and impossible in our freeEngland. But, finding there was no yearly instalment coming for thechild's keep, she answered an advertisement and handed him over to aclergyman. Unfortunately she herself died a few months before weinstituted the search, and although we advertised widely we neverobtained any more information. Tell me now, Phil, what you think ofthat?"
There was a long silence.
"Could it be possible that, after all, he was indeed the lost child?"Phil asked himself. "Was it possible that the story just narrated washis own, and referred to his father and mother. Was the vicar's test tobe a useless one, for he had trained an adopted son for one purposeonly? What joy it would be to have relations of his own?" The thoughtscrowded through his brain, and his lips trembled with hope andeagerness.
"Douglas," he said at last, in a voice that was weak and broken withemotion, "I believe I am your cousin I believe that that unhappy ladyyou have spoken of was my dear mother, the mother I never knew. Wecannot settle the question here, but my adopted father can do so as soonas we get back to England. Something tells me that you have helped meto discover the secret of my birth, and if so, then all I can say is,that I greet you as a cousin with all my heart. Providence has thrownus together, and let us hope that the same guiding hand will keep usgood friends till the last."
The lads shook hands silently, while Tony looked on with a grin ofpleasure on his face.
"Such a one as Phil is for making pals I never see," he muttered."Lor', if it was girls around he would be turning their heads, andgetting failed in love with by every one on 'em;" and with a loud guffawhe dived down the companion ladder. As for Phil and Douglas McNeil,they sat discussing the question of their relationship for more than anhour, and when they retired, it was with the mutual and hearty agreementthat it was one of the happiest days in their lives when the fortune ofwar brought them together to fight side by side for the honour ofEngland's flag.
A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War Page 20
