CHAPTER VIII
COMRADES IN ARMS
It was always a puzzle to George Fairburn that the Duke had sounexpectedly assigned him to a cavalry regiment, and his friendLieutenant Blackett could not help with the solution.
"I suppose it was just an accident," Matthew said with a laugh; "hesaw a horse-soldier before him in the person of your servant here, andso turned you over to me. I'm mighty delighted, anyhow, that we arethrown together. We shall have a good time of it, I feel sure."
"We shall, if there's plenty to do," George assented with a smile.
There was plenty to do. At the very moment when the boy and LieutenantFieldsend arrived, the Duke had given orders to prepare for anotherlong march, and within a couple of days George found himself one of alarge body of troops heading for the Rhine valley. A halt was calledbefore Landau, and the siege of this stronghold began. The affairproved to be a slow business, the attacking force being very short ofmilitary material. Days passed; the fortress stood firm, no apparentimpression being made at all.
"I dare wager the Duke won't stand cooling at this job," remarkedMatthew to George and Fieldsend one evening. The latter with hisregiment was assisting in the siege, and he had already taken a greatliking for Matthew Blackett, a liking Matthew was not slow toreciprocate.
The prophecy was not far wrong. Almost before dawn the very nextmorning Marlborough was marching, with twelve thousand men, largelycavalry, towards the Queich valley, across a bit of country that forbadness could hardly be matched even in the wilds of Connemara. On manand horse tramped, till the ancient city of Treves was reached. TheDuke prepared for a siege, but he was saved the trouble. The garrisonwas far too weak to hold the place, and the place fell into his handsalmost without a blow. George Fairburn grumbled at his luck, but wascheered by Matthew's laughing reply, "Don't seek to rush things tooquickly, my dear lad; your time is coming."
It was. After ordering the siege of Traerbach, Marlborough flew backwith a portion of his men to Landau, in his own breathless fashion,and before many hours were over Fairburn was as keenly interested inthe siege as if he had never scampered all the way to Treves and backagain. A week or two passed by, and still the place held out, thoughit was plain the end was near.
One day a sudden assault was planned on a weak spot in the defences, aspot where some earlier damages had been ineffectively repaired.George, with a troop of cavalry on foot, under the orders ofLieutenant Blackett, suddenly started off at the double, spurred bytheir officer's "Come along, lads! through or over!" With a roar ofdelight the men, mostly young fellows, dashed toward the spot,regardless of the whistling bullets that flew around. In a breach ofthe defences, a place not more than four or five feet wide, stood ahuge Frenchman, whirling his sword over his head. The attackers pulledup for a moment, all except George, who kept right on, till he wasclose upon the big fellow with the sword. The Frenchman lunged outfiercely at the lad, but the Englishman skipped out of the way like acat. Then before the man could use his weapon again George had chargedhim head first, like a bull, his body bent double. With a shock hishead came into contact with the fellow's knees, and in a moment theFrenchman had tumbled helplessly on his face. The rest of Blackett'slittle band dashed over the prostrate enemy and into the fortress. Thestronghold was taken.
"Send Cornet Fairburn to me, Mr. Blackett," said the colonel that sameevening, and much wondering the lieutenant obeyed.
"Cornet Fairburn sounds well," he remarked to George. "Wonder if theold colonel has made a mistake about it."
There was no mistake at all. When George Fairburn returned from hisinterview with his commanding officer, it was as Cornet, not asTrooper Fairburn. It was by the Duke's own order, it appeared. Thatnight the three friends, all with commissions in their pockets now,made merry in company. Sir George Rooke's desire had been speedilyrealized, and George had taken his first step upwards.
Marlborough marched to meet the King of Prussia, whom he persuaded tosend some eight thousand troops to the help of the Duke of Savoy, inItaly. Then he went home to receive his honours, and the memorablecampaign of 1704 came to an end.
Marlborough was a statesman as well as a brilliant commander, and hehad his work at home as well as abroad, a work the winters enabled himto deal with. He was now quite aware that his best friends, that is tosay, the chief supporters of his war schemes, were the Whigs, and hewas working more and more energetically to put their party in power.Harley and St. John took the place of more violent Tories, and in 1705a coalition of Whigs and Tories, called the Junto, managed publicaffairs, more or less under Marlborough's direction. The Duchess stillheld her sway over the Queen, and the two ladies addressed each otheras Mrs. Morley (the Queen) and Mrs. Freeman respectively. Alreadythere were influences at work to undermine the power of theMarlboroughs, but their political downfall was not yet.
Scottish matters were giving a good deal of trouble to the Englishgovernment. Two years before, in 1703, the Scotch Parliament hadpassed an Act of Security, the object of which was to proclaim adifferent sovereign from that of England, unless Scotland should beguaranteed her own religious establishment and her laws. Now thisyear, 1705, the Parliament in London placed severe restrictions on theScotch trade with England, and ordered the Border towns to befortified. The irritation between the two countries grew and grew, andwar seemed within sight. A commission was accordingly appointed toconsider the terms of an Act of Union, the greater portion ofScotland, however, being strongly opposed to any such union at all.
The spring of 1705 found the Allies active once more. The maininterest centres in the Netherlands and in Spain. The Earl ofPeterborough, who took the command in Spain, was one of the mostextraordinary men of his time. His energy and activity were amazing,and he would dash about the Continent in a fashion that oftenastounded his friends and confounded his enemies. No man knew wherePeterborough would next turn up. "In journeys he outrides the post,"Dean Swift wrote of him, and the Dean goes on to say,
So wonderful his expedition, When you have not the least suspicion, He's with you like an apparition.
Add to this that the Earl was a charming man, full of courage andenthusiasm, and able to command the unbounded affection of his troops,and you have the born leader of men. Of Peterborough's brilliantexploits in the Peninsula in 1705 a whole book might be written. Hischief attention was first given to the important town of Barcelona, aplace which had successfully withstood Rooke, and in the mostremarkable fashion he captured the strong fort of Monjuich, thecitadel of the town, with a force of only 1,200 foot and 200 horse.Barcelona itself fell for a time into the hands of Peterborough andthe Archduke Charles, now calling himself Charles III of Spain.Success followed upon success, and whole provinces, Catalonia andValencia, were won over. So marvellous was the story of his doings,indeed, that when, in the course of time, George Fairburn heard it, inthe distant Netherlands, he was disposed to wish he had remained inSpain. Yet he had done very well, in that same year 1705, as we shallsee.
Almost from his resumption of the command in the early spring of thatyear, Marlborough met with vexations and disappointments. He hadformed the great plan of invading France by way of the Moselle valley,and our two heroes, who had heard whispers as to the work being cutout for the Allies, were ready to dance with delight. They were stillfrisky boys out of school, one may say. But the plan was opposed intwo quarters. First, the Dutch, statesmen and generals alike, threwevery obstacle in the way. They would not hear of the project. ThenLouis of Baden was in one of his worst sulky fits, and for a timerefused his help. When he did consent to go, he demanded a delay,pleading that a wound he had received at the Schellenberg, in theprevious year, was not yet fully healed. The troops the Duke expecteddid not come in; instead of the 90,000 he wanted, but 30,000 mustered.
"It is no go," Blackett said to his friend with a groan.
At this juncture the Emperor Leopold died, and the Archduke's elderbrother Joseph succeeded him.
"Spain is bound in the long run to drop into
the hands of eitherFrance or Austria," the two young officers agreed. Already the ladswere beginning to take an interest in great matters of state, as wasnatural in the case of well-educated and intelligent youngsters. Andthey felt that when either event should happen it would be a bad dayfor the rest of Europe.
Baffled in his great scheme, Marlborough set his hand to anotherimportant work. Across the province of Brabant in Flanders the Frenchheld a wonderful belt of strongholds, stretching from Namur toAntwerp. No invasion of France could possibly be made from theNetherlands so long as Louis held this formidable line of defences.Moreover, the near presence of these fortresses to Holland was astanding threat to the Dutch, and, when Marlborough made known hisplans to them, they for once fell in with them.
Thus it happened that Lieutenant Blackett and his friend CornetFairburn found themselves once more in the thick of war. They had hada preliminary skirmish or two not long before--the retaking of Huy,the frightening of Villeroy from Liege, and what not--but nowsomething more serious was afoot. That the task the Duke had sethimself was a difficult one, every man in his service knew, but theyknew also that he was not a commander likely to be dismayed by meredifficulties. Villeroy, the leader of the French, had 70,000 troopswith him, a larger force than the Allies could get together.
It was near Tirlemont that Marlborough began his operations. The marchto the place went on till it was stopped by a small but awkward brook,the Little Gheet, on the farther side of which the French were verystrongly posted in great numbers. So formidable an affair did thecrossing appear that the Dutch generals objected to the attempt beingmade. Marlborough, usually the best-tempered of men, was in a rage,and determined to push the attack in spite of them. It was the morningof July 17, 1705.
"We are in for hard knocks to-day, if appearances go for anything,"Blackett said quietly to George, as their regiment prepared, with theother cavalry, to open the proceedings.
"So much the better," was George's laughing answer; "without hardknocks there is no promotion, eh?"
All was ready; the bugle rang out the signal for the attack. The longline of Marlborough's horse fronted the Gheet at no great distanceaway, the field-pieces were in position, the infantry and reservessomewhat to the rear. Beyond the stream, with the advantage of risingground, were planted the French guns, supported by a powerful host.
Away! The cavalry dashed onwards at a terrific pace. A sharp rattle ofmusketry rang out, and in a moment a sprinkling of the advancingtroopers fell from their saddles. George Fairburn was already warmingto the work, and he sat his steed firmly. Then a ball struck thegallant animal, and in an instant the rider was flung over its head.The young cornet narrowly escaped being trampled to pieces by hiscomrades as they swept by in full career. Up he sprang, however, atrifle stunned for the moment, but otherwise no worse. Quicklyrecovering his sword, which had flown from his grasp, he darted afterhis more fortunate companions, and arrived breathless on the scene.
A fierce struggle for the passage of the river was going on, anddesperate fighting was taking place in the very bed of the stream, atrifle lower down its course. For a time George endeavoured in vain tofind a way through the struggling mass of men and horses to the brinkof the Gheet; the press and the confusion were too great. Accordinglyhe ran on behind the lines of horse, to find a place where he mightthrust himself in. Where his own comrades were he could not tell.Bullets were flying thick around him as he ran, but he did not givethe matter a thought. It was characteristic of him all through hislife, indeed, that when his attention and interest were stronglyengaged on one matter he was all but oblivious to every otherconsideration.
At length his chance appeared, and an opening presented itself.Springing over the prostrate bodies of men and horses, he reached thebank. To his surprise the stream seemed to be very deep. As a matterof fact the waters were dammed lower down by the mass of fallen menand animals lying across their bed. Without hesitation he dashed intothe flood, his sole thought being to get himself across and so intothe enemy's lines. With his sword held tightly between his teeth, theboy officer swam, as many another lusty Peterite would have been ableto do. He reached mid stream.
Suddenly he became aware of a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Amoment later he grew faint. In vain he struggled to keep afloat; theworld grew dark to him, and he sank beneath the surface.
A tall fellow, fully six foot three in his stockings, if he was aninch, had just managed to wade through the stream, his nose above thesurface, a comical sight, if anybody had had the time to notice it.Looking back, this man saw George disappear, and without hesitation hedashed into the water again. Reaching the spot, he groped about, andthen, with both hands clutching an inanimate form, he dragged hisburden to the bank.
"George, by Heaven!" he cried, as soon as he could get a glimpse ofthe features. It was true; Matthew Blackett had saved his friend'slife at the risk of his own. And it had been a risk, for a dozenbullets had splashed around him as he had hauled his heavy load along.
"Blackett!" exclaimed Fairburn, a moment or two later, when,recovering, he opened his eyes. "Where's your horse?"
"Done for, poor wretch! And yours?"
"Shot under me, at the very first volley. And it was you who draggedme out! I shall remember it! But here we are on the right side; comeon!"
The lads gripped each other warmly by the hand, and side by sidedashed on into the thick of the _melee_. A large number of the alliedcavalry had by this time made good their passage across, in spite ofthe fiercest opposition on the part of the enemy. In vain Blacketturged his companion to withdraw and get himself away with his woundedarm. George would not budge an inch. It was only a flesh wound, itafterwards appeared. So the two North-country lads stood by eachother. For an hour or more they were hotly engaged, the enemy fallingback inch by inch.
Then came ringing cheers. The French had abandoned the position; thefamous and hitherto impregnable line of defences had been broken. Ourheroes breathed more freely when a short respite came. But theinterval of rest was short. Colonel Rhodes, their commanding officer,catching sight of the pair, as he was collecting his men again,joyfully hailed them, and a minute later George and Matthew, providedonce more with mounts, were cantering with the rest to the renewedattack. The enemy had made another stand some distance farther back.
Another struggle, and this second position was like wise carried, witha grand sweep. Victory was at hand.
Suddenly a startling report ran through the English lines. The Dukewas missing! Where was the mighty General? was the question on everylip. Somebody ran up and said a word to Colonel Rhodes. Instantly thegallant officer and his men were galloping off to a distant part ofthe field, the troopers wondering what was afoot. The explanation soonappeared. Marlborough had become separated from the main body of hisarmy, and now, with but a very few men around him, was in imminentdanger of capture by the French troops, who were pouring thick uponthe spot.
Colonel Rhodes charged at the head of his regiment straight upon theFrench, and a lane was cut through. It was a matter of a few minutes.The Duke was saved, and the enemy retired in woeful disappointment.The first to reach the Duke were Blackett and Fairburn, and the ladswere flushed with joy and pride when their distinguished leader,looking at them with a smile, said, with all his old pleasantness ofmanner, "Gentlemen, I thank you."
The Brabant line of strongholds was broken. Villeroy fell back, andMarlborough had his will on the defences. No inconsiderable section ofthe belt was rendered useless. No longer did an impassable barrierstretch between the Netherlands and France. The importance of thevictory could hardly be overstated. As one writer has well pointedout, "All Marlborough's operations had hitherto been carried on to theoutside of these lines; thenceforward they were all carried on withinthem."
A day or two later the Duke came to inspect the regiment to which ourboys belonged, just as he was inspecting others. The men with theirofficers were drawn up, and the General's eyes ran along the line.Presently he spoke a word to the colonel in com
mand of the regiment,and, to their no small confusion, Lieutenant Blackett and CornetFairburn were called out to the front.
"How old are you?" the Duke inquired, as the youths saluted.
"Nearly twenty, may it please your Grace." "Just turned nineteen, byyour Grace's leave." Such were the replies.
"Hum!" said the Duke thoughtfully, "you shall have your promotion indue course. You are young, and can afford to wait for it." This toMatthew. "As for you"--turning to George--"you have fairly earned yourlieutenancy." And he turned away.
With Marlborough to Malplaquet: A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne Page 8
