The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  Three soldiers were engaged in examining the contents of a large coffer of jewels. As the door opened they turned round and, on seeing a solitary officer, sprang forward with terrible oaths. Fergus shot one of them as they did so, dropped the pistol, and seized his sword. Both men fired. Fergus felt a stinging sensation in his left arm, and the pistol held in that hand dropped to the ground.

  Confident in his swordsmanship, he awaited the onslaught of the two marauders. The swords clashed, and at the second pass one of them fell back, run through the body. The other, shouting for aid, stood on the defensive. Fergus heard the rush of heavy steps coming down the staircase and, just as three other men rushed into the room, he almost clove his opponent’s head in two, with a tremendous blow from his claymore.

  Two of the newcomers fired their pistols hastily—both missed—then rushed at him with their swords; and as he was hotly engaged with them the third, who was the sentry who had been placed over the women, advanced slowly, with his pistol pointed, with the intention of making sure of his aim. He paused close to the combatants, waiting for an opportunity to fire between the shifting figures of his comrades; when a white figure, after peering in at the door, ran swiftly forward and threw herself on his back, hurling him forward to the ground, his pistol exploding as he fell.

  One of the others started back at the sound, and as he did so Fergus ran him through the body. He then attacked his remaining opponent, and after a few passes laid him dead beside his comrade. Picking up his own fallen pistol, Fergus blew out the brains of the soldier, who was struggling to free himself from the girl’s weight, and then helped her to her feet.

  “Well done, my brave girl!” he said. “You have saved my life. Now run and tell those wenches to stop screaming, and to come and help their mistress. These scoundrels are all killed, and there is nothing more for them to be alarmed at.”

  Then he ran to the girl on the sofa, cut her cords with a dagger, and freed her from the gag. As he did so, she leapt up and ran to her mother’s side; while Fergus, kneeling by the gentleman who had fallen before he had entered, turned him over and, laying his ear over his heart, listened intently.

  “He is alive,” he said. “His heart beats, but faintly. Tell the maids to fetch some cordial.”

  The women were coming in now, some crying hysterically, some shrieking afresh at the sight of the bodies that were strewn about the room.

  “Silence!” Fergus shouted sternly. “Now, while one runs to fetch some cordial, do three others come here, and aid me to lift your master gently on to this couch.”

  The maid who had overthrown the soldier at once came forward to his assistance.

  “Now, Truchen and Lisa,” the young girl said, stamping her foot, “come at once.

  “Do you, Caroline, run and fetch the stand of cordials from the dining room.”

  The two women approached timidly.

  “Now,” Fergus said, “get your arm under his shoulders, on your side, and I will do the same. One of you others support his head when we lift, the other take his feet.”

  So, gently he was raised and laid on the couch. By the time this was done, the woman returned with a bottle of spirits.

  “Now,” he said, “water and a glass.”

  The young girl ran and fetched a carafe of water and a tumbler, standing on a table by the wall. Her hands shook as she handed it to Fergus.

  “Are you sure that he is not dead, sir?” she asked, in a hushed voice.

  “Quite sure. I fear that he is grievously wounded, but he certainly lives. Now, get another glass and put some spirits in and fill it up with water, and make your mother drink it, as soon as you have roused her from her faint.”

  Fergus now gave all his attention to the wounded man, poured two or three spoonfuls of strong spirits and water between his lips, and then proceeded to examine his wounds. He had three. One was a very severe cut upon the shoulder. His left arm had been broken by a pistol bullet, and he had a dangerous sword thrust in the body.

  Under Fergus’ direction the servant had cut off the doublet and, after pouring some more spirits down the wounded man’s throat, he bade one of the other women fetch him some soft linen, and a sheet. When these arrived he made a pad of the linen, and bound it over the wounded man’s shoulder with some strips torn from the sheet. Then he sent for some straight strips of wood, cut them to the right length, wrapped some linen round them and, straightening the arm, applied them to it and, with the assistance of the girl, bandaged it firmly. Then he placed a pad of linen over the wound in the body, and passed bandages round and round.

  “Well done!” he said to his assistant. “You are a stout girl, and a brave one.”

  Then he turned to the others, who were crowded round their mistress.

  “Stand back,” he said, “and throw open the window and let the air come to her. That will do.

  “The young lady and this girl will be enough, now. Do the rest of you run off and get some clothes on.”

  “She has opened her eyes once, sir.”

  “She will come round directly, young lady. Pour a spoonful or two from this glass between her lips. It is stronger than that you have in your hand. She has had a terrible shock, but as soon as she hears that your father is alive, it will do more for her than all our services.”

  “Will he live, sir?”

  “That I cannot say for certain, but I have great hopes that he will do so. However, I will send a surgeon out, as soon as I get to the city.”

  The lady was longer in her swoon than Fergus had expected, and the servants had returned before she opened her eyes.

  “Now,” he said, “do four of you lend me your assistance. It would be well to carry this sofa with your master into the next room; and then we will take your mistress in there, too, so that she will be spared seeing these ruffians scattered about, when she comes to herself.”

  The doors leading to the adjoining apartment were opened, candles lighted there, and the wounded man carried in on his sofa.

  “And now for your mistress. It will be easier to lift her out of the chair, and carry her in bodily.”

  This he did, with the assistance of two of the servants.

  “Now,” he said to the young girl, “do you stay by her, my brave maid. I think she will recover in a minute or two. Her eyelids moved as I brought her in. I will look round and see about things.

  “Were these the only two men in the house?” he asked the other women, as he joined them on the landing.

  “No, sir. There were six men. The other four have gone to bed, but the two outside always waited up till the count and countess retired.”

  “Where are their rooms?” he asked, taking a candle.

  One of the women led him upstairs. As he expected, he found the four men lying dead. One had apparently leapt up as the door was opened, and the other three had been killed in their beds.

  “Where can I get help from?”

  “There are the men at the stables. It is at the back of the house, three or four hundred yards away.”

  “Well, take one of the other women with you, and go and rouse them. Tell them to dress and come here, at once.”

  He now went down to the gate, undid the fastening, and then led his horse up to the house. In a few minutes the stablemen arrived. He ordered them to carry the bodies of the six marauders out, and lay them in front of the house. When they had done so, they were to take those of the servants and place them in an outhouse. Then he went upstairs again.

  “The countess has recovered, sir,” one of the women said.

  “Tell her that I will send one of the army surgeons down, at once. But first, bandage my arm. It is but a flesh wound, I know; but I am feeling faint, and am sure that it is keeping on bleeding.

  “Here, my girl,” he said to the one who had before assisted, “I can trust to you not to faint.”

  With her assistance he took off his coat, the arm of which was saturated with blood.

  “You had better cut off the s
leeve of the shirt,” he said.

  This was done, and the nature of the wound was seen. A ball had ploughed through the flesh three inches below the shoulder, inflicting a gaping but not serious wound.

  “It is lucky that it was not the inside of the arm,” he said to the girl, as she bandaged it up; “for had it been, I should have bled to death in a very few minutes.

  “Has the count opened his eyes yet?”

  “No, sir. He is lying just as he was.”

  “What is the gentleman’s name?”

  “Count Eulenfurst.”

  “You had better give me a draught of wine, before I start. I feel shaken, and it is possible that riding may set my wound bleeding again.”

  Having drunk a goblet of wine, Fergus went down and mounted his horse. As he did so, he said to one of the men:

  “Take a lantern, and go down to the spot where the road hither turns off from the main road. A surgeon will be here in half an hour, or perhaps in twenty minutes. He will be on the lookout for you and your lantern.”

  Events had passed quickly, and the church bell chimed a quarter to eleven as he rode through the streets of Dresden. In three minutes he drew up at the entrance to the royal quarters. As he dismounted, Karl came out.

  “Keep the horse here, Karl,” he said. “It may be wanted in a minute or two again.”

  “Are you hurt, sir?” the man asked as he dismounted, for he saw his face by the light of the torches on each side of the gateway.

  “It is only a flesh wound, and of no consequence; but I have lost a good deal of blood.”

  He made his way up the staircase to the marshal’s quarters. He was feeling dizzy and faint, now.

  “Is the marshal in his room?” he asked.

  “He is in, sir, but—”

  “I would speak to him immediately. ’Tis a most urgent matter.”

  The servant went in, a moment later held the door open, and said:

  “Will you enter, sir?”

  Fergus entered, and made the usual formal salute to the marshal. Two or three other officers were in the room, but he did not heed who they were, nor hear the exclamations of surprise that broke out at his appearance.

  “I beg to report, sir, that the house of the Count Eulenfurst has been attacked by marauders, belonging to one of the Pomeranian regiments. The count is desperately wounded, and I pray that a surgeon may be sent instantly to his aid. The house stands back from the road, about half a mile from the north gate. A man with a lantern will be standing in the road to guide him to it. My horse is at the door below, in readiness to take him. I pray you to allow me to retire.”

  He swayed and would have fallen, had not the marshal and one of the others present caught him, and laid him down on a couch.

  “He is wounded, marshal,” the other officer said. “This sleeve is saturated with blood.”

  The marshal raised his voice, and called an attendant:

  “Run to the quarters of staff surgeon Schmidt, and ask him to come here immediately, and to bring another of his staff with him, if there is one in.”

  In two minutes the king’s chief surgeon entered, followed by another of his staff.

  “First look to the wound of Cornet Drummond,” the marshal said. “It is in the arm, and I trust that he has only fainted from loss of blood.”

  The surgeons examined the wound.

  “It is in no way serious, marshal. As you say, he has fainted from loss of blood. He must have neglected it for some time. Had it been bandaged at once, it would only have had the consequence of disabling his arm for a fortnight or so.”

  The assistant had already hurried away to get lint and bandages. Another voice now spoke.

  “Surgeon Schmidt, you will please at once mount Mr. Drummond’s horse, which is standing at the door. Ride out through the north gate. When you have gone about half a mile you will see a man with a lantern. He will lead you to the house of Count Eulenfurst, who has been grievously wounded by some marauders. Surgeon Morfen will follow you, as soon as he has bandaged Mr. Drummond’s wounds. There may be more wounded there who may need your care.

  “Major Armfeldt, will you order a horse to be brought round at once for the surgeon, then hurry to the barracks. Order the colonel to turn out a troop of horse instantly, and let him scour the country between the north gate and the camp, and arrest every straggler he comes across.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Promotion

  As soon as the bandage was applied and the flow of blood ceased, a few spoonfuls of wine were poured down the patient’s throat. It was not long before he opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position.

  “I beg pardon, sir,” he said faintly, as his eyes fell on the marshal, who was standing just in front of him. “I am sorry that I came into your apartments in this state, but it seemed to me—”

  “You did quite right, sir,” said a sharp voice that he at once recognized, while the speaker put his hand upon his shoulder, to prevent him from trying to rise. “You were quite right to bring the news here at once of this outrage; which, by heavens, shall be punished as it deserves. Now drink a cup of wine, and then perhaps you will be able to tell us a little more about it. Now don’t be in a hurry, but obey my orders.”

  Fergus drank off the wine; then, after waiting a minute or two, said:

  “Count Eulenfurst is sorely wounded, sire, but I cannot say whether mortally or not. When I came away, he was still lying insensible. His wife and daughter are, happily, uninjured.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “Yes, sire, the six menservants who were sleeping in the house were all killed—four in their beds, two while hastening from below to assist their master.”

  The king gave an exclamation of fury.

  “You said these men belonged to a Pomeranian regiment. Had they left before you got there? But I suppose not, or else you would not have been wounded. How was it that you heard of the attack?”

  “I had carried a despatch from the marshal to the camp, sire, and was on my way back when I heard a pistol shot. The sound was faint, for it came from a house a quarter of a mile away, and was fired indoors; but the night was still, and fortunately some of the windows were open. Thinking that some evil work was being done, I rode straight for it, climbed the wall and, making my way on foot to the house, happily arrived in time.”

  “You saw the fellows, then? How was it that they suffered you to escape with your life? They must have known that your evidence would hang them all.”

  “There were but six of them, sire; and they will need no hanging, for they are all disposed of. Though had it not been for the assistance of a brave servant maid, who threw herself upon the back of one of them, my career would certainly have been terminated.”

  “But who had you with you to help you?” the king asked.

  “I had no one but the maid, sire.”

  “Do you mean to say, Mr. Drummond, that with your own hand you slew the whole of the six villains?”

  “That was so, sire; but in respect to the one thrown down by the girl, I had but to blow out his brains before he could gain his feet.”

  “Can you give us the particulars?” the king asked quietly. “If you do not feel equal to it, we will wait till morning.”

  “I can tell you now, sire. I am feeling better and stronger.”

  And he related the incidents of the fight.

  “One with his pistol, Keith,” the king said. “Four with his sword, after his left hand was disabled, to say nothing of the sixth.

  “That is not a bad beginning for this aide-de-camp, gentlemen.”

  “No, indeed, sire. It is a most gallant deed, though it was well for him that he was able to dispose of the first three before the others appeared on the scene.”

  “It was a most gallant action, indeed,” the king repeated; and a hearty assent was given by the general officers standing round.

  “I congratulate you on your aide-de-camp, Keith,” he went on. “A man capable of killi
ng, single handed, six of my Pomeranians is atreasure. Do you see that his commission as lieutenant is given me tomorrow to sign.

  “No, sit still, young sir. It is I who have to thank you, for so promptly punishing these marauders, who would have brought disgrace upon my army; and not you who have to thank me. Now, be off to your bed.”

  Two of the attendants were called in, and these assisted Fergus, who was almost too weak to stand, to the apartment that he shared with Lindsay. Keith himself accompanied them. Lindsay leapt out of bed as they entered.

  “Don’t ask any questions, Lindsay,” the marshal said. “Drummond has performed a very gallant action, and has been wounded and, as you see, can scarce stand from loss of blood. He will be asleep as soon as he lies down. You will hear all about it, in the morning.”

  The marshal then returned to his apartment. The king was on the point of leaving.

  “I have left orders,” he said, “that as soon as either of the surgeons returns, I am to be wakened and informed of the state of Count Eulenfurst. He is a nobleman of distinction and character; though, I believe, in no great favour at the court here since he resigned his seat on the council, because he disapproved of the resources of the state being wasted in extravagance, instead of being spent in maintaining the army in proper condition. Should he die, it will cause an extremely bad impression throughout Saxony.”

  At daybreak the next morning, finding that the surgeons had not returned, Keith despatched an officer to request them to furnish him, at once, with a written report of the state of the count. He returned in three-quarters of an hour, saying that the count had just recovered consciousness; that two of his wounds were serious, and the other very grave; but that having probed it, they were of opinion that it might not prove fatal. The countess was completely prostrated, and had gone from one fainting fit into another, and required more attention than her husband. The rest of the household were uninjured.

  Lindsay got up quietly and dressed without awaking Fergus. He was disappointed at a despatch being at once handed to him to carry to the Prince of Brunswick’s army, which was ten miles away; and was therefore obliged to mount and ride off, without obtaining any news whatever as to the nature of Drummond’s adventure. As he passed through the camp of the Pomeranians, he saw the bodies of six soldiers swinging from the bough of a tree, close to the camp. He rode a little out of his way to discover the cause of this strange spectacle. In front of them was erected a large placard of canvas, with the words painted upon it: