Next morning the preliminary investigation was held by the commandant.
He finished with all other work first, and then directed that I should
be brought before him. I knew this, because the others were taken away
to stand their trial, and I was left behind. When I was in his presence
I saluted, and the commandant said with soldierly directness:
"The adjutant is dead; you are charged with killing him; have you
anything to say?"
"Only this, sir," I replied, "he insulted me, then he insulted
Mademoiselle Julie, who is now my wife; I struck him, he drew his
sword, and I my bayonet. I was the quicker of the two, and wounded him;
then he raised his sword to cut me down, and I repeated the blow."
"But there were three wounds; is it not so?" he said to the surgeon.
"Yes, monsieur le commandant."
"How do you explain the third wound?"
"Two," I answered, "were in self-defence, the third, sir, in passion."
"Ah; and how in self-defence?"
"The first, sir, on the arm as he drew his sword; the second on the
body as he lifted it to strike; the third, sir, on the body in the
anger of the moment."
"That will do," said the officer; "as the general is arriving to-day
I will lay the matter before him. But I warn you, prepare for a
court-martial and its result."
I saluted, and was led away.
There is no need to go through the preliminaries. The general received
the same information from me as the commandant had got, and at once
ordered a board of officers to try me for the offence.
"They will not have much difficulty in deciding, as the accused
confesses his crime, so I will wait here to confirm the finding," he
said to the commandant.
I heard this as I was facing about with the escort to return to the
guard-house, and the last vestige of hope disappeared.
I gave no further evidence before the court-martial than I had already
given to the commandant. I did not like to speak of the adjutant's
animosity towards me, as that and its consequences would supply a
motive for my act, and that I did not wish to impress upon their minds.
Better let them think it was sudden, as, indeed, it was in one way,
than deliberate and led up to by his own fault, as it was in another.
One must understand that, but for my resentment and sense of wrong and
oft-thought desire of his death, I should not have killed him; and one
must also know that, were he passing quietly by, I should not have
rushed upon him with my bayonet. My feelings were due to the injuries
and insults he had heaped upon me; my sudden action to his threat about
my life to Giulia, repeated, as it was, to me.
The result of the court-martial was that I was acquitted of the
killing, as that was done in self-defence, but found guilty of striking
my superior officer, and for that sentenced to be shot. This was duly
confirmed, read out on general parade, and the execution was set for
the following morning at eight o'clock. As I heard the words read
out, standing bareheaded, without a belt, between two soldiers with
loaded rifles and fixed bayonets, I felt that my last sun would set
that night. Little I guessed of what would be accomplished by the
wit and courage of a loving woman, by the unselfish chivalry of two
legionaries, who had gone separately to Giulia, neither knowing of the
other's design, and offered to help her and her husband, even at the
risk of their lives. And yet both these men made light of their action
at the time, and, were they in the land of the living to-day, would
surely only claim the credit of having stood by a comrade in trouble
and a woman in distress. They were the English corporal, whom I have
already mentioned, and an Irishman--a simple soldier--let us call him
Mac. When Giulia thanked the corporal he told her that, as he had lost
his honour long ago, it did not matter if he lost his life now.
"Surely not your honour?" she queried.
"Well, I think not, indeed, but the world, unfortunately, does not
agree with me."
Mac said he could not do less than try to rescue me,--"il est mon
pays, n'est ce pas?"--and he, because he was an Irishman, could always
get what he wished in the canteen. I did not know this. I found out,
however, that Giulia often gave Mac, the only other Irishman in the
battalion, brandy and wine and tobacco without payment, as he was my
countryman, and I do not blame the poor devil for accepting, for he was
always in trouble, his pay was constantly stopped, and a soldier can do
easily without his dinner, but is ripe for mischief if he is deprived
of his glass and of his pipe. Well, she did not lose in the end, as he
said--but that must come in its own place.
Now the Englishman was corporal of the guard that night. I did not know
anything definite about the plan for my escape, for when Giulia visited
me at about six o'clock in the evening all she could tell me was to
hope, to watch, and to be ready. I needed little advice about the last
two matters; as for hoping, that was almost impossible. About eight
o'clock the corporal visited me, as a matter of duty, to see that all
was right. He ordered me, in a loud, rough voice, to get up from where
I lay. As I stood in front of him he whispered: "After midnight," and
departed.
At about twenty minutes past twelve I heard a low voice calling to me
at the window. This I had left open, so that there might be a means
of communication if anyone could get to the other side. I had not
much expectation of this, as a sentry was posted just there, and no
legionary, I thought, would be such a fool as to risk punishment by
permitting even Giulia to speak to me. When I went to the window I
found Mac outside.
"Hurry, hurry," he said; "we must get these bars out quickly. We can
lose no time if we are to succeed."
Now there were two iron bars fixed vertically in the mud of which the
wall was built, and Mac, giving me a bayonet, told me to clear the
lower end of one, while he cleared the lower end of the other. We
said nothing more. We worked with a will. In a short time the ends
were free, and then Mac, a powerful man, pulled the bars out, so that
I could just squeeze my body through. I had, however, to take off my
tunic to do so, and I passed this out first. When I got out I saw a
body on the ground.
"You have his bayonet," said Mac, "take his rifle and belt as well."
The man lay quite motionless. I took his belt and put it on and then
possessed myself of the rifle. I felt happy enough now. Now they could
not shoot me like a dog; I could at least die fighting.
"Wait a moment," said Mac.
In a few minutes we heard the door of the guard-house opening, and then
the voice of the corporal telling the sentinel in front that he would
return in a quarter of an hour. The corporal came round to where we
stood. He had his rifle, bayonet, and ammunition. He said:
"Is it all right?"
"Yes."
"Are you armed?"
"Yes, both; he has the sentry's weapons."
"Very good; let us go. When we are at a safe distance from the
guard-house we shall pretend to be a visiting patrol."
In this way we passed the sentries at a distance from the main-guard
and marched boldly along till we came to where a native cavalryman was
on duty near the horses. He challenged, and received a satisfactory
reply. As we passed him the corporal halted us, and ordered me to hold
his rifle for a moment. I took it, and before I or the cavalry-guard
could understand the Englishman had the latter by the throat. Mac laid
down his rifle and seized the unfortunate fellow's arms, and in a few
moments he was a corpse.
"Now," said the corporal to me, "you get the woman, we will get ready
the horses."
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Some place over there." And he pointed with his hand.
I went in the direction pointed out and soon met Giulia. She had been
easily able to follow us, for our steady tramp could be heard at some
distance. We made no attempt to conceal our movements; we were to all
appearance a visiting patrol. As I came to her side I whispered: "It
goes very well, carissima. The others are getting out the horses."
Giulia flung herself into my arms. I snatched a kiss and led her to
where Mac and the Englishman were busy. They had two horses already
out, and were saddling them with all despatch. One must understand that
the saddles and bridles are always kept near the chargers, especially
in a place where at any moment a raid from the desert may have to be
repelled. Soon four horses were ready, and then we all mounted and rode
slowly towards a gate at the rear of the camp, where a single sentinel
was posted. This man, luckily for us, was a Turco. When the corporal
replied to his challenge and told him that we were officers he believed
the story. Then the Englishman and I dismounted, taking only our
bayonets, and approached the gate. The sentry protested against our
opening this, but I got behind him and flung my hands about his neck.
At the same moment the corporal wrenched away the rifle and bayonet and
buried his own steel in the Turco's heart.
We opened the gate as quickly and quietly as possible and went out. For
ten minutes we walked our horses slowly and almost noiselessly away
from the camp. Then we headed due south after a short consultation--the
corporal leading, Giulia and I following, Mac bringing up the rear.
We were now going straight for the Great Desert, where alone there
was hope of safety. Had we gone north towards the Mediterranean, our
freedom would not be worth twenty-four hours' purchase. As it was, we
had a good chance of getting safely away from French pursuit, for our
post lay at the extreme south of French territory in that part. But in
the desert what were we to do? We did not know--we did not think about
that. All our energies and thoughts were directed to getting clear
away from the French and native cavalry. We knew that the escape would
be soon discovered, but we fancied that no pursuit would be attempted
until dawn, and it was our business to travel as far as we could from
the cantonment in the short time that we had at our disposal. Moreover,
if we could only put a fair distance between ourselves and our pursuers
there was every likelihood that they would never catch up with us,
because the native horsemen would not care to go too far into the
desert, for they would get little quarter from the Arabs who infest it.
Why, they would be killed for the sake of their horses, equipments,
and arms, and the wild Arab does not fear the native levies as he does
the Frenchmen, for two reasons--in the first place, the Arab is quite
as good a fighting man, and he knows it, as the other African; in the
second, it is only the white soldiers whose weapons kill from afar. As
for us, we had to venture into the desert, as I have already said. We
wanted, to use another phrase of mine, to get from the fire to the
frying-pan--_du feu à la poêle_.
We kept steadily forward until the sun came up in the east with
his usual suddenness. Then we halted, and began to consider our
position. At best it was a bad one. We were four, with four horses;
for ourselves, we had only a haversack of food and a flask of brandy
that Giulia had been thoughtful enough to bring, for our horses we had
nothing. As far as fighting power went we were better off, as we had
three good rifles--_fusils Gras_ we called them--and eighty rounds of
ball cartridge per man. We had bayonets as well, and Giulia had a pair
of revolvers and a stiletto, so that, given a fair chance, we were good
enough for a dozen enemies. One must remember that we were desperate;
nothing could be gained by surrendering to Frenchmen, since our lives
were now forfeit; with a woman in the party we could not surrender to
Arabs.
The English corporal, Mac and I, spoke in English.
"I want you to promise one thing," I said to them: "if two go down, let
the third kill my wife."
"Oh, that's understood," said the Englishman.
"I hope it may not be my lot," said Mac, "but I'll do it all the same."
"Now," said the corporal, "we must go farther south and chance meeting
with the Arabs. I don't know," he went on, "whether I am anxious to
meet any or not. If we don't meet any we shall probably miss the wells;
if we do meet them there will be a fight."
"It is better to fight," said Mac, "than to die of thirst in the
desert."
"I think so too," I said.
"Well," asked the corporal, "shall we go straight on at top speed or
rest?"
"Let us go on," I advised; "let us press on as far as we can, then if
we meet any Arabs, or if the spahis ride up to us, we can halt and
fight. Remember, without food or water for our horses we cannot run,
we cannot make even a running fight; it must be a standing fight to a
finish."
The Englishman and Mac agreed with me, and before we started again I
said to Giulia in their hearing:
"N'aie pas peur, ma bien chère, tu ne seras pas prisonnière, plutôt tu
seras tuée par le dernier protecteur."
"Je suis bien content," she replied, and, bowing prettily to the
others, she murmured a word of thanks.
We rode on for about two hours, and then halted to rest our horses and
to eat a little of Giulia's provisions. We did not drink, as brandy
is not a good thing when one has nothing else. If we could only get
our usual morning coffee we should have had a nip apiece, but we who
had soldiered in Algeria and other hot climates were too sensible to
touch fire-water without anything to qualify it and with the certainty
of a hot day's march before us. After eating and smoking we got back
into our saddles and rode on until the heat of the sun made us again
halt for our own sakes as well as on account of our animals. In spite
of our discomfort we felt fairly happy; we had made a good morning's
march since the sun appeared, and though we had done very little in the
darkness, yet we believed ourselves to be safe enough from pursuit.
After a couple of hours' rest we resolved, in spite of the heat, to
press on again, and, going rather slowly, we and our horses were not
too hard pressed. About four o'clock in the afternoon we again halted,
this time for about an hour, and then, as our horses did not seem to
suffer overmuch from the want of food and water--they were desert
horses, one must remember--we again mounted and continued our journey
to the south.
It was, I should say, a little past five o'clock in the afternoon when
Mac, who had halted for a moment to look to the north, shouted to
us that the spahis were coming. We turned, and saw, a long distance
away, for the atmosphere was very clear, a party of mounted soldiers
advancing on our tracks. There was no use in tiring our horses and
ourselves by an attempted flight; we understood quite plainly that the
native cavalrymen were certain to overtake us, and it was just as well
to await them where we stood. We dismounted, hobbled our horses, and
came together for consultation. The corporal said:
"We must stand at least ten paces apart from one another, unless they
charge; in that case we must stand back to back."
"Give your orders, corporal," I said, "and we will obey."
"Yes," assented Mac; "there must be a commanding officer in every
battle."
"Very good," said the corporal. "You, Mac, go ten paces to the right;
you stay here, mademoiselle; you"--this to me--"go ten paces farther to
the left; and I place myself at the extreme left, so we shall offer bad
targets, especially for cavalry."
When we had ranged ourselves as ordered our enemies were close enough
for us to note their numbers; they were a dozen in all.
"Why," shouted Mac, "it's only a corporal's squad; we're a corporal's
squad ourselves, boys, and we're whites."
"As soon as you think you can hit a man or horse fire," commanded the
corporal.
In a moment or two I heard a report on the right. Mac, one of the best
shots in our old battalion, had fired, and the result was of good omen.
A horse fell heavily in the advance, pitching his rider forward, a
second stumbled over the first, staggered to the left, and brought down
a third. We cheered as we saw this, and the rest of the little troop
pulled up for a moment. As they did so the corporal and I fired. A man
tumbled out of his saddle on their right; in the centre a horse, mad
with the sudden shock and the pain of the bullet, suddenly ran away
with its rider. They passed not more than fifty yards to our right,
and Mac's rifle spoke again: the spahi flung up his hands and fell
forward on his horse's neck.
"Well done, Mac," I shouted out, "we can easily whip them now."
As I spoke I dropped on one knee and levelled my rifle at the little
knot of men and horses. The corporal and I fired almost together, and
though no man or horse fell, yet we felt certain that some damage was
done. We knew quite well, as every soldier knows, that a wounded horse
will not always fall and that an Arab will sit in his saddle with more
than one bullet in his body. One result our fire had, it caused the
spahis to withdraw out of range, and this gave us a respite. One will
ask: Why did not the cavalry return our fire? Well, it would do them no
good. Our weapons killed at a much longer range than theirs; for two
reasons--first, the rifle always carries farther than the carbine; and,
second, our weapons were of later pattern and, therefore, better than
theirs.
We could now reckon up our successes. To Mac's first shot three horses
and three men had fallen; of these two horses and one man remained
on the ground. My first shot had sent a horse careering madly over
the desert, and Mac's second had put his rider out of the fight. The
corporal had also brought down a man, but this fellow had been carried
away by his comrades. As for the last shots, there was no apparent
result, but we believed that some damage had been done by them. Anyway
three men and three horses were accounted for, and we who had driven
back a dozen spahis had no fear of only nine, though we were not
such fools as to imagine that these hot-blooded Arabs were more than
temporarily discomfited by our success.
Very soon the Arabs again advanced, but in a different fashion. Instead
of now coming forward in a bunch they separated widely over the plain,
so as to form a great half-circle in our front and our flanks.
"Don't throw away a shot," commanded the corporal. And then, hesitating
for a moment, he continued: "Let us draw closer together--this is the
grand attack--if they don't come home now in their charge, they will
never do it."
We all closed in on Giulia; we formed a lozenge or diamond in array.
I looked straight towards the north, the corporal to the west, Mac to
the east, and Giulia was just at my back, but looking past me at the
quickly-moving spahis. Our bayonets were fixed. Suddenly one of the
spahis, the corporal, I suppose, uttered a loud cry and charged. All
the rest followed his example, and in a moment the nine were within
long range. We fired and loaded, fired again and loaded again. I cannot
say how often this occurred, but I saw a horse fall in my front to my
second bullet, and soon afterwards I knew that two men at least were
charging home. As they came with levelled lances I heard the corporal
say:
"Mine are settled; I'm with you; Mac's all right; come out and meet
them."
We went out together; as we did the corporal commanded:
"Go to the right; shoot your man if you can, if not, use your bayonet."
I fired and missed. I met the lowered lance with my bayonet, and, like
a fool, turned it up; the spahi let it go and swung the heavy butt
downwards and to his right rear. I could not avoid the blow; it took
me fairly on the breast, sending me to the ground. As he pulled at
the reins to get his charger back I heard a sharp report, followed by
another: my enemy collapsed and fell. As I rose painfully to my feet,
feeling as if a ton weight were laid upon my chest, Giulia caught me in
her arms and asked with anxiety if I were hurt. "Not much," I answered:
"but where are the others?" I saw Mac a few paces away aiming at a
retiring spahi; turning round I saw the English corporal wiping his
bayonet; near him lay a dead soldier. On the plain at various distances
lay men and horses; farther off than these the remains of the spahis
had assembled--one mounted and three dismounted men.
"What happened to you, mon camarade?" said the corporal.
"Oh," I replied, "like a fool I turned the lance up instead of down; he
then struck me with the butt, and Giulia shot him just in time to save
me."
"It seems to me," said the corporal, speaking in French, "that Madame
Julie is always saving your life."
"Yes," I replied, smiling; "and I would rather owe it to her than to
anyone else."
We were now quite satisfied. It was absolutely impossible for the four
survivors to attack us with any hope of success owing to our weapons.
They were quite aware of this; in fact, they were in difficulties now,
for the question arose for them: How were they to get back to the
cantonment? Their horses were dead or wounded, for all we knew the men
might be wounded as well, and the spahis could not by any chance like
the prospect of meeting in the desert any of their co-religionists who
had remained unsubdued.
One thing we had to do, and do quickly. This was to get away as far
as possible from the remnants of the spahis. If we remained in their
vicinity until darkness came we should lose all the advantage of our
superior weapons, and we were well aware that the native troops are
daring and skilful fighters with cold steel. Moreover, it is the Arab
nature to lust for vengeance, especially on Christians, though our
Christianity was of a rather shadowy nature, more than to love even
his life, and these men had sufficient reason to hate us. Accordingly
we mounted and turned our weary horses' heads again towards the south,
going at an easy pace, and now and again looking back to see if there
were new pursuers on our track. When we had gone some distance and
had lost sight of the defeated spahis, the corporal said: "Let us turn
to the right; if new men have come up to the others, they will go due
south." The advice seemed good, so we went westwards for about two
hours, and then halted to rest ourselves and our horses. We were very
thirsty now, but Mac told us to our great delight that he had taken two
water bottles from dead spahis.
"Why did you not tell us before?" asked the corporal.
"I thought it best to wait, and, besides," he answered, "I was thinking
more about pursuit than about even the water."
We very soon half emptied one, Giulia getting the first and largest
drink, and then we poured into this bottle the contents of the spirit
flask that Giulia had brought.
"Now, madame," said the corporal, "you shall have the bottle of water
for yourself, we will be satisfied with the other."
This was a very good arrangement. Giulia did not like _eau-de-vie_ and
we did; moreover, Giulia wanted more liquid in the desert than three
veteran campaigners.
At about two o'clock in the morning we set out again, and travelled
very slowly in a south-westerly direction. Our horses were beginning
to show signs of failing, and we eagerly scanned the desert all around
us after the sun had risen to try to discover signs of an oasis or
even of a caravan. Our steeds would soon give up the struggle, that we
knew, and we could scarcely hope to keep it up on foot for more than
twenty-four hours. Now one must not imagine that we were hopeless.
On the contrary, we felt that fortune, having befriended us so long,
would not now abandon us. We thought of the difficulties surmounted
in the escape and of the good fight which we had made against our
pursuers, and with such recent memories our spirits could not be cast
down. We had a little food, a little drink, good weapons, and enough of
ammunition. We knew that every man could trust his comrades, and so,
while our horses lasted, and for at least a day afterwards, we could
laugh at Fate.
So we jogged along for some time after dawn, rested for an hour, and
then pushed on again. About midway between sunrise and noon Mac, whose
eyes were as keen as a vulture's, cried out:
"At last, boys, at last; look yonder."
We looked, and saw a slowly-moving object. There was no doubt about
what it was, our path would soon intersect that of a caravan. When
the parties met one of two things would be our portion--safety or
death--for, if we could not get water and food in hospitable fashion,
we had no resource but to fight for them, and desert fights are
serious.