In the Track of the Troops
Page 21
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
MORE OF THE RESULTS OF WAR.
I need not trouble the reader with an account of the meeting with myfaithful servant. While we were still engaged in questioning eachother, I noticed that the countenance of our friend the scout wore ananxious and almost impatient expression.
"Anything wrong, Dobri?" I inquired.
"God knows!" he replied in a solemn tone, which impressed me much. "Arumour has come that the Circassians or the Bashi-Bazouks--I know notwhich, but both are fiends and cowards--have been to Venilik, and--"
He stopped abruptly.
"But that village was in the hands of the Russians," I said, at onceunderstanding his anxiety.
"It may be so, but I go to see without delay," he replied, "and haveonly stopped thus long to know if you will go with me. These bruteskill and wound women and children as well as men. Perhaps your servicesmay--Will you go?"
He spoke so earnestly, and his face looked so deadly pale, that I feltit impossible to refuse him. I was much exhausted by the prolongedlabours of the day, but knew that I had reserve strength for anemergency.
"Give me a few minutes," said I,--"just to get leave, you know. I can'tgo without leave."
The scout nodded. In ten minutes I had returned. Meanwhile, Lancey hadprepared my horse and his own. Swallowing a can of water, I vaultedinto the saddle. It was very dark, but Petroff knew every foot of thecountry. For several hours we rode at a smart gallop, and then, as daywas breaking, drew near to Venilik. As we approached, I observed thatthe bold countenance of the scout became almost pinched-looking fromanxiety. Presently we observed smoke against the sky, and then saw thatthe village had undoubtedly been burned. I glanced at Petroffnervously. There was no longer a look of anxiety on his face, but adark vindictive frown.
He increased his pace to racing speed. As we followed close at hisheels, I observed that he drew a knife from his belt, and with that as aspur urged on his jaded steed. At last we reached the outskirts of thevillage, and dashed through. Blackened beams, ruined houses, dead menand women, met our horrified gaze on every side.
At the well-known turn of the road, where the bypath joined it, Dobrivaulted from his horse, and let the animal go, while he ran towards hisdwelling. We also dismounted and followed him. Then a great andterrible shout reached our ears. When we came to the cottage we foundthe scout standing motionless before his old home, with his handsclasped tightly, and his eyes riveted to the spot with a glare of horrorthat words cannot describe.
Before him all that had been his home was a heap of blackened ashes, butin the midst of these ashes were seen protruding and charred bones. Itdid not require more than one glance to show that recognition of theremains was impossible. Everything was reduced to cinders.
As we gazed an appalling cry rang in our ears, and next moment a youngwoman darted out from behind a piece of the blackened walls with a knifein her hand.
"Hah! are you come back, you devils?" she shrieked, and flew at Dobri,who would certainly have been stabbed, for he paid no attention to her,if I had not caught her wrist, and forced the knife from her grasp.Even then she sprang at him and fastened her fingers in his neck whileshe cried, "Give me back my child, I say! give me my child, you fiend!"
She stopped and looked earnestly in his face, then, springing back, andstanding before him with clenched hands, she screamed--
"Ha, haa! it is you, Dobri! why did you not come to help us? traitor--coward--to leave us at such a time! Did you not hear the shrieks ofMarika when they dragged her from your cottage? Did you not see theform of little Dobri quivering on the point of the Circassian's spear?Were you deaf when Ivanka's death-shriek pierced my ears like--. Oh!God forgive me, Dobri, I did not mean to--"
She stopped in the torrent of her wrath, stretched both armsconvulsively towards heaven, and, with a piercing cry for "Mercy!" felldead at our feet.
Still the scout did not move. He stood in the same half-shrinkingattitude of intense agony, glaring at the ruin around him.
"Dobri," said I at last, gently touching his arm, and endeavouring toarouse him.
He started like one waking out of a dream, hurled me aside with suchviolence that I fell heavily to the ground, and rushed from the spot atfull speed.
Lancey ran after him, but soon stopped. He might as well have chased amountain hare. We both, however, followed the track he had pursued,and, catching our horses, passed into the village.
"It's of no use to follow, sir," said Lancey, "we can't tell which way'e's gone."
I felt that pursuit would indeed be useless, and pulled up with theintention of searching among the ruins of the village for some one whomight have escaped the carnage, and could give me information.
The sights that met our eyes everywhere were indeed terrible. But Ipass over the sickening details with the simple remark, that no ordinaryimagination could conceive the deeds of torture and brutality of whichthese Turkish irregulars had been guilty. We searched carefully, butfor a long time could find no one.
Cattle were straying ownerless about the place, while dogs and pigs weredevouring the murdered inhabitants. Thinking it probable that some ofthe people might have taken refuge in the church, we went to it.Passing from the broad glare of day into the darkened porch, I stumbledover an object on the ground. It was the corpse of a young woman withthe head nearly hacked off, the clothes torn, and the body half burnt.But this was as nothing to the scene inside. About two hundredvillagers--chiefly women, children, aged, and sick--had sought refugethere, and been slaughtered indiscriminately. We found the dead anddying piled together in suffocating heaps. Little children werecrawling about looking for their mothers, wounded mothers werestruggling to move the ghastly heaps to find their little ones. Many ofthese latter were scarce recognisable, owing to the fearful sword-cutson their heads and faces. I observed in one corner an old man whosethin white hair was draggled with blood. He was struggling in the vainendeavour to release himself from a heap of dead bodies that had eitherfallen or been thrown upon him.
We hastened to his assistance. After freeing him, I gave him a littlebrandy from my flask. He seemed very grateful, and, on recovering alittle, told us, with many a sigh and pause for breath, that the villagehad been sacked by Turkish irregular troops, Circassians, who, aftercarrying off a large number of young girls, returned to the village, andslaughtered all who had not already fled to the woods for refuge.
While the old man was telling the mournful tale I observed a little girlrun out from behind a seat where she had probably been secretingherself, and gaze wildly at me. Blood-stained, dishevelled, haggardthough she was, I instantly recognised the pretty little face.
"Ivanka!" I exclaimed, holding out my arms.
With a scream of delight she rushed forward and sprang into them. Ohhow the dear child grasped me,--twined her thin little arms round me,and strained as if she would crush herself into my bosom, while sheburied her face in my neck and gave way to restful moans accompanied byan occasional convulsive sob!
Well did I understand the feelings of her poor heart. For hours pastshe had been shocked by the incomprehensible deeds of blood and violencearound her; had seen, as she afterwards told me, her brother murdered,and her mother chased into the woods and shot by a soldier; had soughtrefuge in the church with those who were too much taken up with theirown terrible griefs to care for her, and, after hours of prolonged agonyand terror, coupled with hunger and thirst, had at last found refuge ina kindly welcome embrace.
After a time I tried to disengage her arms, but found this to beimpossible without a degree of violence which I could not exert.Overcome by the strain, and probably by long want of rest, the poorchild soon fell into a profound slumber.
While I meditated in some perplexity as to how I should act, myattention was aroused by the sudden entrance of a number of men. Theirdress and badges at once told me that they formed a section of thatnoble band of men and women, who, following close on the
heels of the"dogs of war," do all that is possible to alleviate the sufferings ofhapless victims.--God's work going on side by side with that of thedevil! In a few minutes surgeons were tenderly binding up wounds, andambulance-men were bearing them out of the church from which the deadwere also removed for burial.
"Come, Lancey," said I, "our services here are happily no longerrequired. Let us go."
"Where to, sir?" said Lancey.
"To the nearest spot," I replied after a moment's thought, "where I canlie down and sleep. I am dead beat, Lancey, for want of rest, andreally feel unable for anything. If only I can snatch an hour or two,that will suffice. Meanwhile, you will go to the nearest station andfind out if the railway has been destroyed."
We hurried out of the dreadful slaughter-house, Ivanka still soundasleep on my shoulder, and soon discovered an outhouse in which was alittle straw. Rolling some of this into a bundle for a pillow, I laydown so as not to disturb the sleeping child. Another moment and I toowas steeped in that profound slumber which results from thoroughphysical and mental exhaustion.
Lancey went out, shut the door, fastened it, and left us.