Meanwhile Jacob Lancey, impressed with the belief that the Turkish
detachment had taken to the mountains, travelled as rapidly as possible
in that direction.
Next morning at daybreak he found himself so thoroughly exhausted as to
be unable to proceed. With difficulty he climbed a neighbouring
eminence, which, being clear of bushes, gave him a view of the country
around. There was a small village, or hamlet, within a stone's throw of
him. The sight revived his drooping spirits. He descended to it at
once, but found no one stirring--not even a dog. Perceiving a small
outhouse with its door ajar, he went to it and peeped in. There were a
few bundles of straw in a corner. The temptation was irresistible. He
entered, flung himself on the straw, and fell sound asleep almost
immediately.
The sun was shining high in the heavens when he was awakened by a rude
shake. He started up and found himself in the rough grasp of a
Bulgarian peasant.
Lancey, although mentally and morally a man of peace, was physically
pugnacious. He grappled at once with the Bulgarian, and being, as we
have said, a powerful fellow, soon had him on his back with a hand
compressing his windpipe, and a knee thrust into his stomach. It would
certainly have fared ill with the Bulgarian that day if a villager had
not been attracted to the hut by the noise of the scuffle. Seeing how
matters stood, he uttered a shout which brought on the scene three more
villagers, who at once overwhelmed Lancey, bound him, and led him before
the chief man of the place.
This chief man was a Turk with a very black beard. Lancey of course
expected to receive severe punishment without trial. But, on hearing
that he had merely attacked a Bulgarian, the Turk seemed rather inclined
to favour the prisoner than otherwise. At all events, after
ascertaining that he could not communicate with him by any known
language, he sent him to his kitchen to obtain a meal, and afterwards
allowed him to depart, to the evident indignation of the Bulgarian and
his friends, who did not, however, dare to show their feelings.
For some time Lancey wandered about endeavouring to make friends with
the people, but without success. As the day advanced, the men, and most
of the women, went to work in the fields. Feeling that he had not
obtained nearly enough of sleep, our wanderer took an opportunity of
slipping into another outhouse, where he climbed into an empty loft.
There was a small hole in the loft near the floor. As he lay down and
pillowed his head on a beam, he found that he could see the greater part
of the village through the hole, but this fact had barely reached his
brain, when he had again fallen into the heavy slumber of an exhausted
man.
His next awakening was caused by shouts and cries. He raised himself on
one elbow and looked out of his hole. A large body of Russian soldiers
had entered the village, and were welcomed with wild joy by the
Bulgarians, while the Turkish inhabitants--those of them who had not
been able or willing to leave--remained quiet, but polite. The column
halted. The men swarmed about the place and "requisitioned," as the
phrase goes, whatever they wanted--that is, they took what they chose
from the people, whether they were willing or not. To do them justice,
they paid for it, though in most cases the payment was too little.
There was a good deal of noisy demonstration, and some rough treatment
of the inhabitants on the part of those who had come to deliver them,
but beyond being "cleaned out," and an insufficient equivalent left in
money, they were not greatly the worse of this visit from the regulars.
The loft where Lancey had ensconced himself did not attract attention.
He felt, therefore, comparatively safe, and, while he watched the doings
of the soldiery, opened his wallet and made a hearty meal on the debris
of his rations.
Before he had finished it the trumpets sounded, the troops fell in, and
the column left the place.
Then occurred a scene which astonished him not a little. No sooner were
the troops out of sight than the Bulgarian population, rising _en
masse_, fell upon their Turkish brethren and maltreated them terribly.
They did not, indeed, murder them, but they pillaged and burned some of
their houses, and behaved altogether in a wild and savage manner.
Lancey could not understand it. Perhaps if he had known that these
Bulgarians had, for many years, suffered horrible oppression and
contemptuous treatment from the Turks under whose misrule they lay, he
might have felt less surprise, though he might not have justified the
act of revenge. If it be true that the worm turns on the foot that
crushes it, surely it is no matter of wonder that human beings, who have
long been debased, defrauded, and demoralised, should turn and bite
somewhat savagely when opportunity offers!
It had occurred to Lancey, when the Russians had arrived, that it would
be well for him to descend and join these troops, so as to get out of
his present predicament; but, remembering that he had actually accepted
service with the Turks, and that, being clothed in a semi-Turkish
costume, he might be taken for a spy, he resolved to remain where he
was. The riot in the village after the Russian column had left
confirmed him in his intention to remain quiet.
"Your wisest plan, Jacob," he soliloquised, "is to 'old on and bide your
time. Don't 'urry yourself on any account."
Scarcely had he made this resolve when, looking through his hole of
observation, he observed a body of spearmen galloping along the road
that led to the village. The inhabitants also observed them with some
anxiety, for by that time they had come to know the difference between
regular and irregular troops.
The horsemen proved to be Cossacks. The Bulgarians, of course, regarded
them as friends. They formed a portion of the army of deliverers from
Turkish misrule. As such they were received with cheers. The cheers
were returned heartily--in some cases mingled with laughter--by the gay
cavaliers, who had also come to make "requisitions." Their mode of
proceeding, however, was quite different from that of their "regular"
brethren. Leaping from their saddles, they set about the business
without delay. Some went to the fields and cut grain for fodder.
Others entered the houses and carried off victuals and wine, while many
chased and caught pigs and poultry.
They were evidently in a hurry. So much so, that they had no time to
put off in making payment! It was obviously to be regarded as an
outstanding debt against them by the villagers. As the rear-guard
passed out of the place, the corporal in command observed a fat young
pig in the middle of a by-road. He turned aside sharply, charged,
picked the pig neatly up on the point of his lance, and galloped after
his friends, accompanied by a tune that would have done credit to a
Scotch bagpipe.
All this did Lancey see from his secret point of observation, and deeply
did his philosophic mind moralise on what he saw.
The village in which he had sought shelter was in the very heart of the
district swept by the wave of war. The panorama of incidents commenced
to move again at an early hour.
When morning light had just begun to conquer night, Lancey was once more
awakened from a refreshing sleep by a noise in the room below. He
looked down and saw an old, old woman, with bent form, tottering step,
and wrinkled brow. She was searching for something which, evidently,
she could not find. Scraping various things, however, and tasting the
ends of her thin fingers, suggested that she was in search of food.
Lancey was a sympathetic soul. The old woman's visage reminded him of
his own mother--dead and gone for many a day, but fresh and beautiful as
ever in the memory of her son.
He descended at once. The old woman had flung herself down in despair
in a corner of the hovel. Lancey quickly emptied the remnants of food
in his wallet into her lap.
It would have saddened you, reader, to have seen the way in which that
poor old thing hungrily munched a mouthful of the broken victuals
without asking questions, though she glanced her gratitude out of a pair
of large black eyes, while she tied up the remainder in a kerchief with
trembling haste.
"No doubt," soliloquised Lancey, as he sat on a stool and watched her,
"you were a pretty gal once, an' somebody loved you."
It did not occur to Lancey, for his philosophy was not deep, that she
might have been loved more than "once," even although she had _not_ been
a "pretty gal;" neither did it occur to him--for he did not know--that
she was loved still by an old, old man in a neighbouring hut, whose
supper had been carried off by the Cossacks, and whose welfare had
induced her to go out in search of food.
While the two were thus engaged their attention was attracted by a noise
outside. Hastening to the door Lancey peeped out and beheld a band of
Bashi-Bazouks galloping up the road. The Turks of the village began to
hold up their heads again, for they regarded these as friends, but scant
was the courtesy they received from them. To dismount and pillage, and
to slay where the smallest opposition was offered, seemed the order of
the day with these miscreants. For some time none of them came near to
the hut where Lancey and the old woman were concealed, as it stood in an
out-of-the-way corner and escaped notice.
While the robbers were busy, a wild cheer, accompanied by shots and
cries, was heard some distance along the road. The Bashi-Bazouks heard
it and fled. A few minutes later Lancey saw Turkish soldiers running
into the village in scattered groups, but stopping to fire as they ran,
like men who fight while they retreat. Immediately after there was a
rush of men, and a column of Turkish infantry occupied the village in
force. They were evidently hard pressed, for the men ran and acted with
that quick nervous energy which denotes imminent danger.
They swarmed into the houses, dashed open the windows, knocked out
loop-holes in the walls, and kept up a furious fusillade, while
whistling balls came back in reply, and laid many of them low.
One party of Turks at last made a rush to the hut where Lancey sat with
the old woman. There was no weapon of any sort in the hut, and as
Lancey's arms had been taken from him when he was captured, he deemed it
the wisest policy to sit still.
Leaping in with a rush, the Turks shut and barred the door. They saw
Lancey, but had evidently no time to waste on him. The window-frame was
dashed out with rifle-butts, and quick firing was commenced by some,
while others made loop-holes in the mud walls with their bayonets.
Bullets came pinging through the window and brought down masses of
plaster from the walls. Suddenly a terrible yell rang in the little
room, and the commander of the party, raising both hands above him,
dropped his sword and fell with a terrible crash. He put a hand to his
side and writhed on the floor in agony, while blood flowed copiously
from his wound. The poor fellow's pain lasted but a moment or two. His
head fell back suddenly, and the face became ashy pale, while his
glaring eyeballs were transfixed in death.
No notice was taken of this except by a man who sat down on the floor
beside his dead commander, to bandage his own wounded arm. Before he
had finished his task, a shout from his comrades told that danger
approached. Immediately the whole party rushed out of the hut by a back
door. At the same instant the front door was burst open, and a soldier
leaped in.
It was evident to Lancey that, in the midst of smoke and turmoil, a
mistake had been made, for the man who appeared was not a Russian but a
Turk. He was followed by several companions.
Casting a savage piercing look on Lancey, and apparently not feeling
sure, from his appearance, whether he was friend or foe, the man
presented his rifle and fired. The ball grazed Lancey's chest, and
entering the forehead of the old woman scattered her brains on the wall.
For one moment Lancey stood horror-struck, then uttered a roar of rage,
rose like a giant in his wrath, and seized a rifle which had been
dropped by one of the fugitive soldiers. In an instant the bayonet was
deep in the chest of his adversary. Wrenching it out, he swung the rile
round and brought the butt down on the skull of the man behind, which it
crushed in like an egg-shell. Staggered by the fury of the onslaught,
those in rear shrank back. Lancey charged them, and drove them out
pell-mell. Finding the bayonet in his way, he wrenched it off, and,
clubbing the rifle, laid about him with it as if it had been a
walking-cane.
There can be no question that insanity bestows temporary and almost
supernatural power. Lancey was for the time insane. Every sweep of the
rifle stretched a man on the ground. There was a wavering band of Turks
around him. The cheers of victorious Russians were ringing in their
ears. Bullets were whizzing, and men were falling. Shelter was
urgently needful. Little wonder, then, that one tall sturdy madman
should drive a whole company before him. The Russians saw him as they
came on, and cheered encouragingly. He replied with savage laughter and
in another moment the Turks were flying before him in all directions.
Then Lancey stopped, let the butt of his rifle drop, leaned against the
corner of a burning house, and drew his left hand across his brow. Some
passing Russians clapped him on the back and cheered as they ran on to
continue the bloody work of ameliorating the condition of the Bulgarian
Christians.
Nearly the whole village was in flames by that time. From the windows
of every house that could yet be held, a continuous fire was kept up.
The Russians replied to it from the streets, rushing, in little bands,
from point to point, where shelter could be found, so as to escape from
the withering shower of lead. Daring men, with apparently charmed
lives, ran straight up in the face of the enemy, sending death in
advance of them as they ran. Others, piling brushwood on a cart, pushed
the mass before them, for the double purpose of sheltering themselves
and of conveying combustibles to the door of the chief house of the
town, to which most of the inhabitants, with a company of Turks, had
retired.
But the brushwood proved a poor defence, for many of those who stooped
behind it, as they ran, suddenly collapsed and dropped, as men are wont
to do when hit in the brain. Still, a few were left to push the cart
forward. Smoke disconcerted the aim of the defenders to some extent,
and terror helped to make the firing wild and non-effective.
Against the town-house of the village some of the Russians had already
drawn themselves up so flat and close that the defenders at the windows
could not cover them with their rifles. These ran out ever and anon to
fire a shot, and returned to reload. Meanwhile the brushwood was
applied to the door and set on fire, amid yells of fiendish joy.
Lancey had followed the crowd almost mechanically. He had no enemy--no
object. The Turk, as it happened, was, for the time being, his friend.
The Muscovite was not, and never had been, his foe. After the first
deadly burst of his fury on seeing the innocent old woman massacred had
passed, his rage lost all point. But he could not calm his quivering
nerves or check the fierce flow of his boiling blood. Onward he went
with the shouting, cheering, yelling, and cursing crowd of soldiery, his
clothes cut in many places with bullets, though flesh and bone were
spared.
Close to the town-house stood the dwelling of the Turk who had released
him, and shown him hospitality when he was seized by the inhabitants.
The door of the house was being burst open by clubbed rifles. The
memory of a "helping hand," however slight, was sufficient to give
direction to the rage of the madman, for such he still undoubtedly was
at the moment--like many another man who had become sane enough the
following day when the muster-roll was called.
Up to that moment he had been drifting before the gale. He now seized
the helm of his rage, and, upsetting two or three of the men who stood
in his way, soon drew near to the front. As he came forward the door
gave way. A tremendous discharge of fire-arms laid low every man in
advance; but of what avail is it to slay hundreds when thousands press
on in rear?
Lancey sprang over the dead and was met by the points of half a dozen
bayonets,--the foremost man being his deliverer with the black beard.
Grounding his rifle with a crash, and holding up his left hand, he
shouted--"A friend!"
At the same moment he was thrown down and leaped over by the soldiers
behind, who were stabbed by the Turks and fell on him. But Lancey
staggered again to his feet, and using his superior strength to push
aside and crush through those in front, he gained an empty passage
before the others did, and rushed along towards a door at the end of it.
Opening the door and entering he was arrested by the sight of a
beautiful Turkish girl, who stood gazing at him in horror. Before he
had time to speak or act, a door at the other end of the room opened,
and the Turk with the black beard entered sword in hand. The girl
rushed into his arms, with a cry of joy. But this was changed into
alarm as the Turk flung her off and ran at Lancey.
There was no time for explanation. The Russians were already heard
coming along the passage by which he had reached the apartment. Lancey
felt intuitively that a brave man would not stab him in the back.
Instead of defending himself he dropped his rifle, turned, and hastily
shut and bolted the door, then, turning towards the Turk, held aloft his
unarmed hands. The Turk was quick to understand. He nodded, and
assisted his ally to barricade the door with furniture, so that no one
could force a passage for a considerable time. Then they ran to the
other door, which had not yet been menaced. They were almost too late,
for shouts and tramping feet were heard approaching.
Lancey caught up his rifle, stepped out of the room, shut the door, and,
locking it on the Turk and his daughter, commenced to pace calmly up and
down in front of it like a sentinel. Another moment and the Russians
rushed up, but halted and looked surprised on beholding a sentinel
there, who did not even condescend to stop in his slow measured march,
or to bring his arms to the charge to stop them.
One of them advanced to the door, but Lancey grasped his waist with one
hand, gently, almost remonstratively, and shook his head. As the man
persisted, Lancey gave him a throw which was peculiarly Cornish in its
character--he slewed his hip round under the Russian's groin and hurled
him back heels over head amongst his comrades, after which feat he
resumed the sedate march of a sentinel.
By this time he had been recognised as the man who had routed a whole
Turkish company, and was greeted with a laugh and a loud cheer, as the
men turned away and ran to effect some other work of destruction.
"Now, my fine fellow," said Lancey, opening the door and entering.
"You'll 'ave to defend yourself, for I'm neither a friend o' the Turk
nor the Rooshian. They're fools, if not worse, both of 'em, in my
opinion; but one good turn desarves another, so now you an' I are quits.
Adoo!"
Hurrying out of the house, Lancey picked up a Russian cap and greatcoat
as he ran, and put them on, having a vague perception that they might
help to prevent his being made prisoner.
He was right. At all events, in the confusion of the moment, he passed
through the village, and escaped unnoticed into a neighbouring thicket,
whence he succeeded in retiring altogether beyond the range of the
assailed position.