Blair of Balaclava

CHAPTER XX.

CAUGHT IN A TRAP.

Jack and Will were both engaged making coffee at a big fire, round which some score of sun-tanned troopers were sitting or lying, when the regimental sergeant-major came up to them; and, seeing Sergeant Barrymore, said the adjutant wanted him at once. He was not away long.

‘Boys,’ he said on his return, ‘our troop and A, with two troops of the 8th and 11th, parade at three in the morning to feel our way towards the enemy and to bring in forage. See to your arms and saddlery, for we shall very likely find some work to do.’

‘Hurrah!’ cried Will, ‘I shall get my chance of being under fire, Jack. I envy you the distinction of being first.’

‘Hum!’ snorted Sergeant Linham, taking his well-used pipe from his mouth, ‘those who are most eager to get under fire are often most eager to get under cover. Don’t run after danger, youngster; before you see England again you’ll have had a bellyful, I dare say.’

‘Well, I may funk it,’ said Will; ‘but if you see me trying to bolt, Jack, put a bullet in my brain. Don’t let me disgrace the regiment.’

‘I dare say I shall be too busy trying to find a hole for myself to crawl into,’ said Jack.

Sergeant Barrymore interrupted them by saying, ‘What’s all this talk of being afraid? If you’re anything like Blair, Hodson, we shall have something to do to keep you back. He’s a regular firebrand is Jack.’

At this there was a laugh, and Brandon, a well-educated young fellow, who had been an actor before he enlisted, and who always had an apt quotation ready, said, ‘England, I love thee well!

Fear nothing, comrades; for as Will Shakespeare truly says:

‘Which is sound logic,’ said Sergeant Linham. ‘Now, however, let’s eat.’

The men, after having finished their supper, lit their pipes, wrapped themselves in their blankets, and slept soundly till the trumpets of the cavalry division, all too early, were heard ringing out the reveille. By three o’clock the troops taking part in the reconnaissance were mounted and ready, and, the 8th Hussars leading, moved out of the camp. Both the colonel and major of Jack’s regiment were ill, and the two troops were commanded by Captain Norreys, a man who had seen much service.

The advance was pretty slow till it began to get light, and then Captain Norreys eagerly scanned the country with his glasses. No sign of an enemy was to be seen, and the little column, less than a hundred and fifty in all, proceeded for some miles through a country almost destitute of tree or shrub, till they reached some hillocks, which they crossed and then entered a more fertile country. A halt was made for breakfast; then the Hussars and Lancers divided up, and each under its own commander was instructed to gather what forage it could.

Jack’s regiment went away to the extreme right and was successful in finding plenty of forage, which was loaded on the horses. So plentiful was the supply that first a large quantity of it was collected; then the different troops were assembled, and one-half the Hussars and Lancers loaded up and went back to camp, after a corporal and two men had been previously despatched at a trot to ask for another two troops to come out and collect what remained. Captain Norreys, leaving a score of men to guard the forage left behind and to wait till their companions should return from the camp, then led the rest of his mixed force on an extended reconnaissance, being very anxious to see more of the country, and if possible to discover traces of the enemy.

Once or twice a fur-capped Cossack, sitting hunched up on his shaggy pony, the head of his lance glittering in the sun, was observed upon the heights in front; but at first sight of the gaily accoutred English light-horsemen he vanished as if by magic.

‘Why don’t the beggars stop and show a bold face?’ said Will to Jack, both the trumpeters and Sergeant Linham being with Captain Norreys.

‘I should like to get close enough to some of them to ask them,’ replied Jack.

‘Mind you don’t get too close to ’em,’ growled Sergeant Linham with a near approach to a smile.

They reached a good-sized village, around which were a number of cattle, and Captain Norreys halted his force and sought out the headman to open negotiations for the purchase of the cattle, for fresh beef was much in demand. The headman was one who never did things in a hurry, and who, moreover, had heard that the Allies were actually paying, and paying well too, for all they took. So he determined to make the most of his opportunity.

Captain Norreys and the commander of the Hussars were invited into the headman’s house to take tea while terms were discussed, and the men were told they could dismount and procure what food the villagers liked to give them, but that they were to use no violence. Several men were ordered to remain mounted and to keep a sharp lookout around to see they were not surprised.

Larry O’Callaghan, who was with the small party of the 8th Hussars, was left with the mounted sentries to sound the alarm in case of necessity.

Jack and Will, with Sergeant Linham and Private Pearson, dismounted, and, tying their horses to the trees in a small orchard, made for a fair-sized house in the hope of getting something to eat. The master, a short, stout, disagreeable-looking Tartar, met them on the doorstep, and in very voluble language, of which of course not one of the four could understand a word, opposed their entrance.

On this Sergeant Linham drew himself up to his full height, and twirling his heavy moustache said, ‘Ha, hum! you ugly, snub-nosed, cross-eyed son of a gun, we’re British soldiers representing Queen Victoria. Stand aside and allow us to enter, or we shall exercise the right of soldiers in an enemy’s country and help ourselves.’

The grandiloquent fashion in which these words were uttered seemed to have some effect upon the Tartar; possibly the sergeant’s piercing eyes and beak-like nose, together with the medals on his breast and the gold chevrons on his arms, had more, for the Tartar’s next words sounded less harsh. He did not, however, move from the door.

The worthy sergeant, tapping the hilt of his sabre, continued, ‘You thieving old rogue, do you dare to stand there still, barring our progress? Don’t you understand that by doing so you’re defying me, and through me the whole army, and through the army Britain itself? You putty-faced rat, you’re dealing with a man who’s fought in two campaigns and knows the usages of war—ha, hum!’ and the sergeant gave a terrific snort.

The snort completely overcame the Tartar, who, bowing low, stood aside, and Sergeant Linham, carrying himself with the air of a general at least, entered the house, while the other three followed behind, almost bursting themselves in their efforts to restrain their laughter.

They went into a large, stone-flagged room, and Sergeant Linham, pointing to the table, then made signs that he and his companions were hungry and that they wanted food. The man shook his head violently; but Sergeant Linham was not to be denied.

‘Look round the place, boys,’ he said, ‘and see if you can find any prog. We are willing to pay for it; but something to eat we must have. We’re soldiers in the enemy’s country, and we’ve a right to what we can find; at least we had in India, and what was good enough there is good enough here—ha, hum!’

In a hen-roost behind the farm the two trumpeters found a lot of eggs, and these they promptly annexed. Pearson, who had joined them, noticed a large barn, and he suggested they should put their horses in there, which they proceeded to do. Then they went into the house with their eggs, which Sergeant Linham made signs to the man that he should have fried. Some bacon was produced, and a sullen-looking Tartar maid set about cooking the same. Coffee was made, and the meal was being rapidly prepared when a tremendous uproar was heard outside, and a little, thin, horribly ugly woman, who was clearly the mistress of the house, bounced in. Her husband had seemed voluble, but he was as nothing compared with his gentle spouse. She stormed, roared, jumped, shook her skinny fists in the faces of the Lancers, and finally attempted to snatch the pan from the fire; but this Sergeant Linham positively refused to let her do.

He caught hold of her to prevent her, when she turned on him like a fury and scored his face with her nails.

‘For Heaven’s sake, boys, take this she-demon away,’ he yelled; but the woman held on, scratching and clawing and calling out apparently to her husband to assist her. He, however, kept in the background, until the woman, from sheer exhaustion, left off fighting and talking, and bounced out of the room.

The sergeant’s dislike of women was well known, and the trumpeters could not conceal their amusement at the scene, though they were sorry for poor Linham.

‘The old toad, the old vixen,’ he grunted; ‘faugh, she was like a mad monkey!’ He then advanced towards the master of the house, and said solemnly, pointing towards the door, ‘Go, you candle-faced barbarian, and keep that iron-clawed virago away till we’ve fed, or by all the saints in the Russian calendar I’ll cut off your ears,’ and he whipped out his sword as he spoke.

The man fled, and, the food being then placed upon the table, the four sat down and ate a hearty meal. While they were eating, Jack noticed a cunning-eyed lad, in a sheep’s-wool hat and wearing an orange-coloured sash, who came in and peeped at them and then slunk away. This boy went off to the stable, mounted a little pony, and trotted off towards the hills in the rear of the house. Meanwhile the Lancers, enjoying the good cheer, laughed and joked gaily.

Sergeant Linham and Pearson then lit up their pipes and passed a comfortable half-hour, while Jack and Will explored the house, seeing no one about. The upper rooms were either bed or store rooms, and passing one Jack heard voices talking in low tones.

‘I wonder what they’re hatching in there?’ he said. ‘They seem to be talking in dead earnest.’

‘Pity we don’t understand the language,’ said Will.

The trumpeters’ voices had probably been heard inside, for all was silent till a footstep was heard crossing the room.

‘Hist!’ said Jack, holding up one finger; ‘I’m a Dutchman if there wasn’t a spur attached to the heel of that boot. I distinctly heard a jingle.’

The door was slightly open, and Will, peeping through the crack between the hinges, said, ‘There is a man in uniform in there; I can see him.’

‘Slip off down and bring up the sergeant,’ said Jack, drawing his sword. ‘I’ll see the beggar doesn’t escape.’

In a few seconds Sergeant Linham, with Pearson, appeared, and without any hesitation they all entered the room.

It seemed at first as if it were empty; at least, no one was to be seen. Then Jack perceived that a man was lying in bed, and a uniform and sword were on a chair beside it. He gazed at the red hair, snub-nose, and pale face of the man in bed, and in a way it seemed familiar. Will’s voice was then heard from the window.

‘Here’s the fellow I saw, he’s dropped out of the window;’ and, running over, they saw a man in a green uniform, embroidered with coarse orange-coloured cord, running across the yard in front of the house as fast as his legs would carry him.

‘Shall I fire at him?’ said Pearson, who had brought up his pistol.

‘No,’ said the sergeant; ‘let the miserable toad go, he’ll probably be captured by some of our fellows.’

They all turned to the bed, and saw the occupant thereof had reached his sword and drawn it, as if he feared some violence from the British soldiers.

‘You poor, deluded Russian monkey,’ said Linham in grandiloquent tones, ‘don’t you understand the laws of civilised warfare better than to think we should hurt a wounded man, for I judge by your face you are wounded? You must be an ignorant beast not to know us English better—ha, hum!’

The Russian seemed to construe these words into a sort of threat, for he made a point with his sword, of which the sergeant, disapproving of such conduct, promptly deprived him. In so doing he saw the man’s shoulder and chest were bound in a bandage, confirming his suspicion that he was wounded.

Jack, who had been looking at the uniform on the chair, suddenly exclaimed, ‘It’s the very dress worn by those fellows who were escorting the convoy we took just after we landed.’

‘That’s it,’ cried Pearson; ‘I thought I knew that squab face. Why, this is the chap who tried to blow your brains out, and whom I ran through.’

The Lancers and the Russian stared at one another, and it was clear the recognition was mutual. The wounded Cossack captain, for that was his rank, scowled most evilly at the four soldiers, and there was fear, too, in his eyes, for he clearly expected to be either dragged off a prisoner or killed on the spot.

At that moment the lady of the house bounced into the room, and in very high, piercing tones, gesticulating madly all the while, attacked the Lancers.

‘For Heaven’s sake let us clear out of this,’ said Linham; ‘that old beldam would drive a stone image mad.’

They all made for the kitchen just as the cunning-eyed lad, whom Jack had noticed before, re-entered.

‘That’s a treacherous-looking young gentleman,’ said Pearson. ’ I’——

‘Hark! what’s that?’ cried Jack, placing his hand to his ear. ‘It’s a trumpet-call.’

Tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan tarum! rang out the notes.

‘The alarm!’ cried all four at once. ‘Mount!’

They ran to the barn, and were all busy tightening girths when the door was banged-to behind them and the key turned in the lock. In the semi-darkness they threw themselves against the door. No good, it held fast.

‘Trapped!’ cried Jack angrily; ‘and our comrades, what of them?’

CHAPTER XXI.

SERGEANT LINHAM TAKES COMMAND.

The interior of the place was examined; it was well and solidly built, partly of bricks, partly of timber. The door fitted well and was securely fastened. There was a small window perched high up, and several places that would serve well either as peep or loopholes. In the door, just above the lock, was a round hole, cut so that any one on the outside could put his hand through and raise the latch on the inside.

Sergeant Linham took up his position at the little window, the others at various peep-holes, all on the alert. They had not long to wait. The sly-looking boy with the orange-coloured sash came cautiously creeping into the yard, followed by about twenty dismounted Cossacks and some Hussars wearing the same green-and-orange uniform as the man who had escaped from the wounded Cossack captain’s room. The Russians all carried carbines, and appeared to be waiting a signal to open fire.

‘Boys,’ said Sergeant Linham, ‘have your pistols ready. Remember the motto of the regiment, “Death or Glory!” These fellows may have our dead bodies; they mustn’t have our live ones. Ha, hum!’

The Russians with their carbines fired a few volleys at the door, the bullets coming through it. Then one fellow advanced with the key of the barn in his hand, his comrades, having drawn their swords, coming close behind him as though they intended rushing in as soon as the door was opened and slaying all within.

‘When I give the word fire,’ said Sergeant Linham, ‘let each cover a man.’

The trumpeters placed the muzzles of their pistols through chinks in the walls. Pearson aimed through the hole in the door. Sergeant Linham allowed the Russians to get quite close; then he said calmly, ‘Fire!’

Four reports rang out, and when the smoke had cleared off the Lancers saw the Russians dragging away three wounded comrades. In another minute they made a second attempt. Four more reports, and then a second retreat took place.

‘They will unlock the door in a few minutes,’ said the sergeant. ‘I observed that there were two staples and a cross-bar inside. Let us put that up; it will keep them out a bit longer.’

This was done, and then returning to their positions the four saw that the men outside had been reinforced till they numbered quite fifty. These, pushed on from behind by an officer, rushed up to the door, which they unlocked and tried to throw open. The beam prevented them, when with their sword-hilts and carbines they hammered on the wood.

‘Fire as quickly as you can!’ cried Linham; and the pistols rang out.

Then Pearson, seized with an idea, took up his lance, and, rolling the flag round the shaft, placed the point through the hole in the door and lunged out twice with terrible effect. The screams of the two men he wounded, in ordinary times, would have made the blood of the defenders run cold; but their fighting spirit was now aroused, and they gave a wild hurrah.

‘Well done, boys,’ cried the sergeant; ‘they’ve got a bit more than they can stomach I think. I never heard of a foreigner yet who liked British steel.’

The Russians, in fact, fell back, having so far got much the worst of the encounter. The four in the barn were wondering what would be the next move, when the Russians again opened a sharp carbine-fire on the barn. Many of the bullets penetrated and pinged uncomfortably close to the Lancers.

‘Throw yourselves on the ground,’ said Sergeant Linham; and there they remained until the firing was over. They then returned to their posts, as another attack on the door was made; but their four shots proving they had not been killed or disabled, the Russians drew off out of sight. It grew dark, and for a long time the Lancers were silent. Then Sergeant Linham burst into a grim chuckle.

‘What are you laughing at, sergeant?’ asked Pearson.

‘The toads! we’ve got them in a corner,’ he said; ‘they have no field-piece, or they could blow the place to bits in ten minutes. Then they might burn us out; but the wind is blowing towards the house, which would most likely catch fire and burn their precious wounded captain. They’re in a fix.’

‘Sooner or later, though, they must have us if we remain here!’ cried Jack. ‘If we could undo the door we might mount, charge out, and cut our way free.’

Jack went to the door, and without any particular idea pushed his hand through the round hole. He gave an involuntary exclamation of joy. The key was in the lock where the Russians had left it, though they had turned it before retreating. In an instant he had communicated the fact to his friends and their plans were laid. The horses were still saddled, so girths were tightened and bits adjusted. Jack put through his hand and gently turned the key in the lock; the bar was then removed, and all four mounted when the door was noiselessly opened, and they prepared to gallop out. Sergeant Linham and Pearson were to go first, Jack and Will last.

At a word from the sergeant they trotted out and had got to the gate of the yard ere the noise of their escape was heard. Half-a-dozen dismounted Cossacks ran towards them. There was a shout, a sputtering of shots, then the Lancers were galloping for life down the village street. A clump of mounted Hussars barred their way.

‘Knee to knee, boys!’ cried Sergeant Linham. ‘Death or glory!’ and with a crash the Lancers met the Russians.

The charge was so sudden and unexpected that they went through like a knife through butter.

‘Hurrah for Old England!’ shouted Pearson, waving his lance, and they galloped on, several shots being fired at them.

Sergeant Linham got a ball through his lance-cap, another struck the shaft of Pearson’s lance; but on they went till they were clear of the village. When some distance from it Will’s horse suddenly sank to the ground.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Jack as they all drew rein.

A hasty examination showed the poor beast had received a bullet in its chest.

‘Gallant friend,’ said Will,’ you’ve borne me well and done your best. Had you fallen in the village I should have been killed or captured.’

There was nothing to be done, so Jack drew his pistol and put Will’s horse out of its misery, after which Will mounted behind Jack, and, unpursued, they went on, guided by Sergeant Linham, who, old campaigner as he was, could tell his way by the stars.

Presently, away on their left, the glimmer of a line of camp-fires took their attention.

‘Our chaps,’ said Pearson. ‘I wonder at their bivouacking so far from the camp.’

‘It can’t be our outlying pickets at this distance,’ said the sergeant. ‘Yet, I don’t know. Perhaps we’ve come farther than we think.’

‘At any rate, we’d best advance cautiously,’ said Jack; ‘when we’re nearer we’ll go and reconnoitre.’

They advanced as close as they thought wise; then they halted. They were on rising ground, and on the road below them, which led through a valley, men, and what looked like a long line of wagons, could be dimly seen; but in the darkness nothing could be distinguished for certain.

‘Let Will and I creep forward and see who and what they are,’ said Jack; ‘we’re lighter and smaller than you or Pearson, and can move more easily.’

The sergeant demurred at first, but Jack pressed his point. He and Will divested themselves of swords, spurs, caps, trumpets, and bugles; then, having nothing on them that would glitter or jingle, and armed only with their pistols, they started off.

Quite noiselessly they moved forward until, as they got closer to the camp-fires, they could distinctly make out figures in uniforms, clearly Russians by their caps, moving about between the fires. They advanced still closer, and then they could see long lines of wagons—scores, nay, hundreds it seemed—drawn up beside the road. The native drivers were seated together in groups, eating their supper. It was clearly a convoy, and a large one too.

The trumpeters rejoined their companions and reported.

‘If we could only capture the lot,’ said Jack, ‘it would be glorious.’

‘We can do nothing against hundreds,’ muttered Linham.

‘But if we could find the rest of our troop and bring them along?’ suggested Jack.

‘Just what I was thinking,’ said Linham. ‘On with your things, boys; we’ll have a try.’

In a couple of minutes they were on their way again, and Sergeant Linham guided them so truly that they went straight on until suddenly, from the shadow of some trees in front, two mounted figures appeared. Instantly the cold moonbeams fell on the barrel of a carbine, and a stern voice cried, ‘Who goes there? Halt, or I fire.’

‘Friends!’ cried Sergeant Linham joyfully.

‘Stand, friends, and give the countersign,’ came the sharp response, as the carbines of the two Hussar vedettes were pointed straight at them.

‘We don’t know the word. We’re four of the 17th Lancers left behind in the village we halted at this afternoon.’

‘Stay where you are,’ came the reply; ‘the sergeant of the picket will examine you.’

‘Bedad, we don’t want no sargint,’ cried a rich voice; and Larry O’Callaghan came running forward. ‘It’s old Hooky-beak and my two chums of the 17th. I can see ’em.—The saints be praised, ye’ve cheated thim divils of Russians, bhoys,’ he cried, ‘for I’ve been breaking me heart to think as ye was done for. Hurroo! come on!’ and in a few minutes the four Lancers found themselves standing before a fire in one of the cottages of the deserted village in which the detachment had halted for the night.

CHAPTER XXII.

A BRILLIANT LITTLE AFFAIR.

Linham and Barrymore presently came into the cottage, and after the latter had congratulated Jack on his escape, he said, ‘This news about the convoy is most important. Captain Norreys learnt something of it from a prisoner we took, and that is why we remained here. Our captain wanted to go in search of it, but the captain of the 11th, who was senior officer, would not agree. He, poor chap, has just died of the cholera, so Captain Norreys is now in command. Jimmy and I are going to wake him up and tell him what you’ve seen.’

Captain Norreys was delighted with the news. ‘We ‘ll have that convoy,’ he said; and summoned all the officers at once to consult with him.

Half-an-hour later, the little body of cavalry, picking up their vedettes as they went along, were on the move. Captain Norreys, having Linham with him as guide, led the way with his own troop; the Hussars followed. Silence was imposed on all; there was to be no talking or smoking in the ranks, and on no account were any bugle-calls to be sounded.

Progress, of course, was slow, and it was fully a couple of hours before word was passed along for the party to halt. Then part of the Lancers were ordered to dismount. Leaving their lances behind, and taking only their pistols and swords, they then began to advance stealthily on foot, Captain Norreys leading them. The other troops were for the present to remain halted.

Jack and his companions were with the captain, and they went on and on; but no sign of the convoy did they see.

‘I hope we haven’t lost our way,’ whispered Cornet Leland to Jack. ‘It would be a feather in our cap to take in a string of wagons. The cavalry don’t get much chance, and the infantry are always sneering at us as “do-nothing popinjays.”’

‘We’ll prove to them if ever we get the chance that a man in a laced jacket can do as much as one in a red coat, sir,’ replied Jack; and the day was not far distant when the prophecy was to be fulfilled by the immortal ‘Six Hundred.’

Presently they reached the road and marched silently along beside it till there came a stern whisper for caution; then the thirty odd Lancers heard faintly on the still night air a rumble getting rapidly louder.

Captain Norreys halted his party and said, ‘Take Sergeant Barrymore and half the men, Mr Leland, cross the road, advance about a hundred yards, and line the roadway. When the convoy comes in sight, wait till I have delivered a volley, then let fly at them. Directly you’ve fired, run in and prevent the drivers getting off with the wagons; but do not hurt any of them if you can possibly avoid it. Disable only the escort.’

Cornet Leland told off fourteen men, and marched away in the darkness.

‘Trumpeter,’ said the captain to Jack, ‘get off as fast as your legs will carry you towards our main body. Directly you hear firing, sound the regimental call and the rally. When the men arrive tell the officer in command of the Hussars to charge down on the convoy.’

‘Right, sir,’ said Jack, saluting, bitterly disappointed that he was not to be allowed to ‘see the fun.’

The sounds of wheels and trampling hoofs could now be distinguished, and Jack went off. He judged he had gone some five hundred yards when, loath to go farther for fear he might not be able to take part in the capture, he halted on the summit of a small eminence.

The minutes went by slowly, and it seemed hours to Jack, who was listening intently to the increasing noise of wheels, before—Crash! rattle! bang! bang! bang! B-r-r-r-r—crash!—two volleys rang out.

Then ensued a terrible babel of shouts and cries.

Tan-ta-rara! tan-ta-rara! tan-ta-rara-ra! rang out Jack’s trumpet in the regimental call of the ‘Death or Glory Boys.’ Tum-ta-rara! tum-te-rara, tum-te! followed the rally.

The sounds of conflict grew louder; over and over again Jack rang out his calls. A thunder of horses’ hoofs sounded behind him.

‘Hallo,’ thought Jack, ‘that can’t be our fellows yet.’ He turned just in time to see two mounted men galloping up the rise towards him. He paused for a moment, uncertain who the new-comers were. Then he saw the stumpy figures and levelled lance-points. Heavens, they were Cossacks!

Jack let his bugle fall to his side; next moment he had his pistol in his left hand and his sword in his right. Aiming blindly, he fired at the two Russians. The foremost came to the ground, man and horse, with a crash. For a moment the other drew rein; then, with a sort of grunt, he charged.

Jack dashed across his front, making the pony swerve, and, getting on the Cossack’s left side, with a mighty sweep of his sword he cut him right out of his saddle.

The first man, whose horse had been badly wounded, got to his feet and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.

Jack sounded again, and in a few seconds the thud of hoofs and jingle of accoutrements fell on his ear as the rest of the little cavalry force came up at a sharp pace.

‘This way! this way!’ yelled Jack.

The square-topped caps of his own corps and the flying pelisses of the Hussars came in sight. Sir William Lennox pulled in his panting charger close to Jack.

‘Where are they?’ he cried.

‘Straight in front, sir. You and the Hussars are to charge down at once.’

‘What are these?’ asked the officer, pointing with his sword to the bodies of the man and horse on the ground.

‘Two Cossacks attacked me, sir,’ replied Jack.

‘Gallant lad; I will see the fact is known.—By your right, trot march!’ and the troop swung by.

On foot Jack raced after them; but did not arrive till all opposition was over and the convoy was captured.

The drivers of the wagons seemed quite contented to be captured, and before the flying Russians were out of sight had signified to the English their willingness to drive the convoy to the English camp.

The wagons were counted, two hundred of them, laden with provisions for Sebastopol. Besides which nearly three hundred head of cattle were in the rear. A number of men were told off as escort, and the wagons headed for the English camp.

‘A glorious capture!’ cried Captain Norreys, wild with delight. ‘Lord Raglan will be pleased with this night’s work.’

It took some time, though, to get all under way again, and dawn was breaking as they moved off.

Captain Norreys remained behind as rear-guard with about sixty men, amongst whom were Jack, Will, and Larry.

‘Bedad, this bates Donnybrook into a cocked hat,’ said Larry to Jack as he rode by. ‘If the Rooshians would only stand their ground the Crimea would be the finest place in the wurrld.’

They had travelled some distance when, just as the sun was rising, Jack noticed, topping a ridge on their left front, a whole forest of lance-heads.

‘Look there, sir,’ he cried to the captain.

‘Form column of troops!’ cried that officer, and Lancers and Hussars swung forward to get between the Russians and the convoy.

Carbines were loaded and swords loosened in their scabbards as fully five hundred Cossacks and Hussars came sweeping over the crest.

‘One volley, then charge,’ said Captain Norreys coolly.

The enemy came on at a slow trot till they were about a hundred yards distant, when the British delivered their fire.

A score of Russian saddles were emptied; then Captain Norreys, well to the front, drew his sword. ‘Forward men!’ he cried; ‘take your pace from me, and charge home!’

At a gallop they rushed forward. Jack drew his sword and was in amongst the foe only a horse’s length behind his captain. Lance and sabre went to work, and in thirty seconds the Russians were flying.

Instantly Captain Norreys held up his sword and Jack sounded the halt.

‘Let us go on, sir; we can cut ’em to pieces,’ growled Sergeant Barrymore.

‘No, no, sergeant; it may be a trap,’ said Captain Norreys. ‘Pick up those three wounded men of ours and get them to the wagons.’

This was done, and then the English formed up again in rear of the convoy, which had not stopped.

The Russians reformed and hung upon the rear of the column; but they seemed to have no stomach for further fighting.

Followed by the enemy, the column held on its way till a cheer burst out in front.

‘Hurrah!’ shouted Pearson. ‘It’s all over; here are the Cherrypickers!’[2]

The remaining troops of the 11th Hussars, which had been sent out from the English camp as reinforcements, came sweeping by, their sword-blades flashing in the sunlight. With a cheer they advanced towards the still visible Russians, who turned and literally galloped away.

That was the last seen of the enemy. The captured convoy got safely into camp, the cavalrymen receiving a great ovation when they arrived. Captain Norreys was duly thanked in orders; and in his report to Lord Raglan he made mention of Sergeant Linham’s defence of the barn, and Jack’s part in bringing up the reserves and the gallant way in which he had fought and defeated two Cossacks. But long before the report was written Jack was sound asleep, dreaming he was once more at home, taking tea with his mother and sisters in the little garden at Kew.

CHAPTER XXIII.

JACK SHOWS HIS METTLE.

The British army moved in such a formation that it could array itself for battle in a very few minutes, and it presented a magnificent sight to the beholder.

Jack and his regiment marched in rear of the left flank, and on crossing a slight ridge a splendid view of the whole army was obtained.

On the extreme right was the sea, sparkling and dancing in the sunlight. Riding on its waters and advancing majestically, keeping just abreast of the allied army, were the French and English fleets.

Beside the shore marched the French divisions in column, their weapons sparkling and colours waving. Behind them came the Turks. On their left, in the post of danger, their front and flank open to attack, came the British army in battle array. The advance-guard was formed of the 11th Hussars and 13th Light Dragoons, with an infantry battalion. A long line of nimble, green-clad Riflemen in skirmishing order followed. Four grand divisions of scarlet-coated infantry, massed in close columns, with their accompanying batteries of artillery, formed the main body, the baggage and cattle being in rear.

On the left flank there was another line of skirmishers of the Rifles, two hundred yards from the main body; outside them again came the 8th Hussars on the left front; the 17th, as already stated, on the left rear; while the 4th Light Dragoons formed the rear-guard.

The sun sparkled on arms and accoutrements, colours waved in the air, uniforms of every colour met the eye as far as it would reach; the whole, while the bands pealed forth their brazen music, forming such a picture of martial glory as few men are privileged to behold.

The march continued. Soon the bands ceased playing. Then stragglers began to fall out of the ranks. Poor fellows, worn with sickness and privation, they were absolutely unable to stand the strain of a march of a few miles.

Many of Jack’s comrades tried to urge the stragglers to keep up. Alas! it was but too clearly evident by the blackened, swollen faces of many of those who fell out that they were in the last throes of cholera. They had to be left where they fell, for nothing could be done for them. Others of the stragglers fell out from sheer weakness and exhaustion, and these were told that the Cossacks would overtake and spear them did they not keep up. Not a man, however, gave up until he could go no longer, and then no threats were of any avail.

The ground became littered with arms and accoutrements—bearskins, shakos, belts, knapsacks, and rifles; with that, and the figures of the men who had fallen from the ranks, the country over which the troops had passed resembled a field on which a pitched battle had been fought. The spirits of the men drooped, their faces took on a dogged look; but their enthusiasm was gone. The glory of the morning was over.

As the hours dragged on another terrible hardship afflicted the poor soldiers. A maddening, burning thirst consumed them, yet not a drop of water was to be had.

Sergeant Linham, who had suffered all the horrors of thirst in India, chewed a bullet grimly. ‘It’s the first taste of real war the youngsters have had,’ he said. ‘It isn’t the fighting—that’s nothing. It’s the starving and marching, lying on the ground all night in pouring rain or snow, the freezing and the burning—that’s war. Fighting, pah! that’s the only pleasant part of war.’

The advance became slower, the numbers falling from the ranks larger, till in the afternoon a great shout went up in front, and the column halted.

The advance-guard had reached the river Bulganak, their halting-place; and, heedless of discipline, the thirst-maddened soldiers rushed forward and buried their faces in the cool, clear waters running between fertile, grassy banks.

In due course Jack’s regiment arrived at the water, and both men and horses drank their fill.

The Hussars and Light Dragoons, who had formed the advance-guard, had, at the orders of Lord Raglan, crossed the river. Some of the enemy’s cavalry had been seen, and the commander-in-chief, determined to satisfy himself that his army could rest in comparative safety, had gone forward with the cavalry to reconnoitre the position.

Jack’s regiment, having assuaged their thirst, ate part of the ration which had been served out to them; then flung themselves on the ground, under the shadow of the trees, to enjoy a nap or a smoke.

Jack, having drunk his fill, carrying his lance-cap in his hand, joined a group of trumpeters.

‘Hallo, Jack,’ cried Tom Gallon, ‘who’s been ducking your head?’

“I ducked myself, Tom,’ answered Jack, ‘to cool my mighty brain. Phew, it’s hot!’

Bill Parkes laughed. ‘I remember the first time you ever put on a lance-cap,’ he said, ‘you thought you looked mighty fine.’

‘And I remember what you said at the time, Bill:

“Wait till you’ve worn one for six hours on a broiling hot day.”’

‘Well, you’ve had your chance to-day,’ laughed Parkes.

Jack threw off the heaviest part of his accoutrements and seated himself with his comrades. A group of officers sat just by them, and Jack could not help being struck by the change the campaign had already made in their appearance. The gay uniforms, sodden with rain, stained with mud, and often torn, were tarnished and frayed. Their scabbards and spurs were rusty, and their faces disfigured by beards of many days’ growth. Worse than all, however, was the fact that not one of them had enjoyed a change of linen for a week, for every man had landed in what he stood up in and no more, even the pelisses of the 8th Hussars being left behind on shipboard; nor did the regiment ever see them again, for they went down in Balaclava harbour during the great storm of 14th November.

As Jack was looking he observed a staff-officer gallop up to the little group. He spoke hurriedly for a few moments; then Major Willett, commanding the 17th, jumping to his feet, looked over towards the trumpeters, and beckoned to Jack. Seizing his bugle, Jack ran over, buttoning up his jacket on the way.

‘Sound the alarm at once!’ the major cried.

Jack rang out the call.

‘What’s up?’ asked Will.

‘Goodness knows!’ replied Jack as he buckled on his sword and ran towards Dainty; ‘but from the haste with which those Hussar officers are making for their own men it’s something pretty urgent, I should think.’

At that moment the trumpets of the 8th rang out, and in less than three minutes the two regiments were mounted. The Lancers leading, at a trot they made for the bridge, across which they clattered just as the bugles of the infantry Light Division behind them were heard sounding the fall-in.

The ground on the other side of the river rose in a succession of ridges right up to the heights looking down on the Bulganak. The Lancers rapidly mounted the first ridge, and as they did so Russian vedettes were seen upon the heights in front. On mounting the second ridge a curious sight met their gaze. On the level ground before them were the 11th Hussars and 13th Light Dragoons drawn up in beautiful lines, their officers in front, all sitting as perfectly still as though on parade at home. Facing them, on the hill above, was a vast body of Russian horse, Hussars, Dragoons, and Cossacks, some thousands strong. They were throwing out skirmishers, who, as the Lancers came up, opened fire with their carbines but apparently did no damage. The British cavalry took no more notice of being fired at than though the Russians had been blowing peas at them.

On the northern side of the hollow sat Lord Raglan and his staff. The 8th Hussars and 17th Lancers were ordered to form up in rear of the two regiments already in position, and this they did as quietly and orderly as though at Hounslow or Canterbury.

The officers dressed the ranks. ‘Eyes left!’ ‘Up a little, Private Jones!’ ‘Back, Thompson—rein back a little. That’s better. Halt! Eyes front! Slope lances!’ And all this under a smart fire!

The Russians began manœuvring, but seemed more inclined to draw the British cavalry from their position than to charge down upon them.

‘I wonder what we’re going to do?’ said Jack excitedly to Pearson. ‘Why don’t they let us charge? The ground’s lovely, and I’ll bet we should roll those fellows up like fun.’

‘We’d have a good try,’ said Pearson, biting his fair moustache in his excitement as he fixed the chain of his headdress tightly on the point of his chin.

After a little time the Light Division of infantry came marching into the plain, their white-slashed scarlet coats making a brilliant patch of colour. The infantry were formed into line behind the cavalry, and presently, at a smart trot, a nine-pounder battery came swinging along and took post on the right of the infantry, while a six-pounder battery took ground beside the cavalry.

All this while the Russians remained inactive, like interested spectators.

Excitement rose to a high pitch amongst the British, who expected every moment to hear the artillery open fire; but when the whole force had been posted a General came galloping up from Lord Raglan, and seemed to be holding an animated discussion with Lord Lucan, commanding the cavalry. This lasted some time, and then Lord Lucan was seen to give an order to his brigadier, Lord Cardigan.

‘The ball’s going to commence,’ said Pearson to Jack, ‘and we’ll teach these Russians a new dance if I’m not much mistaken.’

Words of command rang out in front, and the 11th Hussars were seen to be on the move, but not towards the enemy. By successive squadrons they moved, slowly and ceremoniously, and reformed behind the supporting squadrons, always leaving two squadrons facing the enemy. The Light Dragoons followed suit, and it became evident that retreat was the order of the day. An exclamation of regret burst from the Lancers, which was instantly repressed by the officers.

No sooner, however, did the Russians see that the English cavalry was not going to advance than a rapid movement began. Their squadrons opened right and left and wheeled away, when two batteries of artillery came bounding up to the top of the ridge facing the British, hurriedly unlimbered, and opened fire. At the same time clouds of Riflemen topped the hills and began a hot fusillade.

‘By George, we’re in for it, after all!’ said Jack to Pearson as a round-shot came whizzing over his head and struck the ground just behind him.

Mixed with the hum of round-shot came the vicious scream of shells, and presently one or two men and horses went down.

All this while Jack’s regiment and the 8th were kept perfectly still, while the regiments which had been in their front retired by squadrons behind them.

The 11th Hussars were just wheeling by Jack’s troop when a shell came screaming by and entered the body of a horse of the Hussars. It struck with a sickening squelch and then exploded, a horrible heap on the ground being all that remained of what a moment before had been a smart cavalryman. A second later a round-shot caught another Hussar on the foot, which it carried clean away. The gallant soldier glanced down and shifted himself in the saddle so as to retain his balance.

‘It’s only my foot,’ he said calmly; ‘the doctor’ll soon put that right;’ and he went on with his squadron.

Jack’s regiment was then in front, and round-shot and shell, to say nothing of musket-balls, began to whiz about them. The round-shot could be distinctly seen coming, and the men ducked as though to avoid them, though they often went twenty feet above their heads.

‘Don’t duck, boys—don’t duck,’ said Sergeant Linham, who sat apparently quite unconcerned, looking about him. ‘If a shot’s coming for you no amount of ducking will make it miss you, and in India it wasn’t considered the thing for men to bob about. Remember the motto of the regiment. Ha, hum!’

Not another man moved, and presently a round-shot came plump in among them.

‘Hallo!’ cried a dozen voices, ‘Benson’s down! he’s killed! No, he’s up! Hallo, Fred! are you hurt?’

‘Shook up a bit,’ said the Lancer in a dazed voice; ‘but the nag’s done for, I’m afraid;’ and that was true, for the poor animal’s head had been completely smashed by the shot.

The fire under which the cavalry still sat was getting very hot, when a trumpet rang out and the six-pounder battery with them opened fire. This seemed, however, to have little effect; then the nine-pounder battery opened, and their shells were seen to be exploding among the Russian cavalry and doing much damage. Presently a shell struck the limber of one of the Russian guns, which it exploded, just as another shell struck one of the guns, overturning it and killing several of the gunners.

By that time Jack’s regiment was the only one under fire, being left as a support to the nine-pounder battery.

Suddenly a move was made by the Russians. Several squadrons of sky-blue coated Hussars came rapidly down and made straight for the English guns.

‘By Jingo, they’re going to try and capture the battery!’ said Cornet Leland.

Hardly were the words out of his mouth than the orderly trumpeter sounded, and the regiment moved off at a trot to take ground on its right, so as to cover the threatened guns.

The Russians, contrary to their usual rule, came on boldly, and it was soon evident they meant to charge.

Instantly the officer commanding the Lancers took in the situation. The Russians must be held in check or they would in a few minutes overtake the slow-moving artillery. A few sharp orders were given; then the Lancers advanced at a trot. At a hundred yards’ distance the pace was increased, and Major Willett shouted, ‘Come on, boys! Charge!’

Then, with knees well-pressed in, bodies eagerly bent forward, and lances levelled, the English squadrons rode down upon the enemy.

With a crash they met the sky-blue Hussars, and for an instant they glared into one another’s faces. The Russians had a curiously set expression on theirs as though of pain; but it was probably only intense excitement. The Lancers had but little time to note their enemies’ faces, however. Heavier men and better mounted, the immense superiority of the lance over the sword in shock-tactics showed itself, and the Russians were hurled back. The Lancers would have pursued; but at that instant Captain Norreys saw a battalion of infantry marching down upon his flank. At the same time the recall was being constantly sounded, so Captain Norreys gave the word to his squadron.

No sooner had they turned their backs to the enemy than the guns on the ridge opened on them, and shells began to plump amongst them; several casualties occurred, and Captain Norreys ground his teeth.

‘I’d like to go in at those fellows,’ he cried, turning in his saddle and shaking his sword savagely at the guns; but the recall was still being sounded, and so he gave the word to his men to trot.

Hardly had they started when two shells burst in amongst them, and Tommy Gallon, who had been riding in the rear near his captain, was seen lying on the ground. The squadron went on; but Jack, seeing his friend down, galloped his horse towards him, and, though under a heavy fire of both artillery and musketry, dismounted and raised his friend’s head.

‘Tommy, old boy, where are you hurt?’ asked Jack.

For answer, poor Tom Gallon pointed to his left arm. It seemed to be smashed. He had been struck by a splinter of shell, which had first killed his horse, then smashed his left forearm.

‘You must get on my horse, Tom,’ said Jack desperately.

‘No, no; leave me, Jack,’ said the wounded trumpeter. ‘See, the troop is retreating, and, ah—look! the Russians are on us.’

This was the case, for the Russian Hussars had hung on to the rear of the Lancers. Seeing the two trumpeters, several of them were trotting up, brandishing their swords.

‘I’ll save you or die with you, Tom,’ said Jack grimly; and he grasped his sword firmly.

The Russians came circling round, making a curious hissing noise, some slashing at Jack, while others bent over in their saddles and tried to reach the wounded trumpeter with their points.

‘Cowards! brutes!’ cried Jack furiously, ‘to try and kill a wounded man!’

But the Russians, supremely ignorant of what he said, continued their attack, Jack keeping them off by performing the moulinet with his sabre. He felt himself slightly wounded once or twice; but he had determined to be cut to pieces rather than desert his fellow-trumpeter.

A very stout, dark-visaged Russian, getting behind Gallon, made a point with his sword and thrust it into his back; and, hearing his comrade’s moan, Jack, mad with fury, was just in time to see the coward withdraw his weapon. Jack seized the Hussar’s bridle; but the fellow cut him down over the head, then spurred his horse and dragged Jack off his feet. Another moment would have settled his fate for ever; but a thunder of hoofs sounded, and Pearson, returning to the rescue of the trumpeters, caught the cowardly Russian just between the shoulder-blades with his lance and completely transfixed him. It was of no use trying to withdraw the weapon, so the gallant trooper let go and drew his sword, with which he cut another foe from his saddle.

Williams, Brandon, and several others, seeing the danger of their comrades, came galloping back, and the Russians immediately retired. Jack and Tom