AN ADVENTURE IN BULGARIA.
Ever since the affair of the Greek firing into the camp at Varna no
soldiers had been allowed to leave the camp without arms, and the
cavalry always carried their swords. The three trumpeters, then, when
they left the camp for their day’s ramble in the country, were thus
armed.
They skirted the hills, and then went for some distance through a plain
covered with corn. Reaching a wood, they entered, then crossed a small
stream by a rough bridge, arriving at a village, situated on the side of
a hill. The cottages were all miserable-looking hovels made of mud and
thatched with rushes, and the inhabitants were a spiritless-looking lot.
Breakfast of goat’s flesh and milk was obtained, and then the three went
on again through beautiful wooded valleys and past some fine
river-scenery. The natives seemed to look upon the three young soldiers
with a certain amount of suspicion; but they continued their journey,
and midday found them in a village of some importance, in which half a
company of Turkish soldiers were quartered. All feeling hungry, Jack
suggested dinner, and they entered the house of one of the principal
villagers in the hope of getting something to eat. In this they were not
disappointed; but Jack noticed that their host, a fine-looking, oldish
man, who carried a knife stuck in his girdle, seemed half-afraid of his
guests, and appeared in great trouble into the bargain.
The boys remarked about the Bulgarian’s sad demeanour; and Jack, who
spoke French fluently and had a smattering of German, said he would try
his host in both languages to see if he could discover the reason of his
trouble.
To Jack’s questions in French the man answered, but with a large
admixture of Bulgarian words. By constant questioning and repetition,
however, Jack learnt the trouble of their host. It appeared that early
in the morning a band of Bashi-Bazouks, unscrupulous ruffians of all
nationalities who had been enlisted by the Turks, had ridden up to the
village, seized all they wanted, beaten the headman, insulted several of
the villagers, and then seized their host’s two sons and the daughter of
another villager, demanding a large ransom for their release. The
villagers being unable to pay, the Bashi-Bazouks had carried off their
prisoners, and were then supposed to be in a wood some mile or two away.
The poor Bulgarian said that such outrages were often committed, and
that the Turkish soldiers, far from trying to prevent these deeds,
winked at them, if they did not indeed lend active assistance. Unless
the ransoms were paid the rule was for the captors to send in to the
parents the hands, ears, or perhaps toes of their prisoners; and this
failing, their heads would be thrown into their houses at night, and the
marauders would move on to commit further depredations somewhere else.
‘And these are the hounds we’re going to fight for!’ said Will. ‘Why, it
makes one’s blood boil to hear of such things!’
‘Begorra, bhoys, we ought to have a worrd or two to say in this matter,’
cried Larry, jumping up. ‘Who’ll follow me to find out these skulking
cowards?’ and drawing his sword, he flourished it round his head.
‘Steady, Larry, or you’ll frighten our host; he’ll think we’re
thirsting for his blood,’ said Jack.
‘But we must do something!’ cried the excitable Larry, slamming his
sabre back into its scabbard.
‘Yes, but what?’ said Jack. ‘Let’s consult.’
They were starting to do so when a loud English voice outside was heard
exclaiming, ‘Hi, Tom! let’s pull up here and see if we can get a drink;
I’m parched.’
‘Hurroo!’ cried Larry; ‘friends.’
They all ran to the door and saw a party of men of the 23rd Regiment and
some artillerymen who, also enjoying a day’s leave, had wandered as far
as the village.
Jack soon explained to the sergeant of the 23rd what had happened, and
the little Welshman’s face grew red.
‘Py St David!’ he said, ‘Englishmans, are we going to stand this? The
Royal Welsh Fusiliers will soon put this to rights, I shall tell you;’
and he said a few rapid words in Welsh to his men, when those of the
23rd who were his countrymen gave a loud yell.
‘Ye needna mak’ sic a screech,’ said a brawny Scotch artilleryman; ‘but
if ye’ll gi’e me a drink and show me whaur these reevin’ deevils ha’
hidden theirsels, Andrew M’Farlane’ll see whether their heids are harder
than his fists;’ and he clenched a hand that would have felled an ox.
‘England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales,’ cried Jack delightedly; ‘horse,
foot, and artillery. It’s a regular union army, and if we can’t bring a
troop of marauding cut-throats to book we’ve no right to call ourselves
British soldiers.’
Jack told the old Bulgarian what they intended doing, and he fell on his
knees in gratitude. The new-comers were given drink and food, and then,
under the leadership of the little Welsh sergeant, and guided by the
Bulgarian, began their march.
The wood in which the marauders had taken refuge was of great extent and
very dense, and the little party extended themselves and proceeded to
beat for their game. They soon found traces, and these they followed;
but it was getting dusk before they came in sight of some score of
ruffians lying sprawling about, mostly asleep, while two men stood as
sentries over the three prisoners.
The Welsh sergeant no sooner saw his enemy than he gave a wild yell and
dashed upon them, sword-bayonet in hand. A couple of shots whistled
above the heads of the little party who went in after the sergeant. The
Bashi-Bazouks sprang to their feet, and seizing every description of
arms--rifles, pistols, swords, lances, yataghans, and knives--prepared
to offer a stout resistance.
The British soldiers closed with them, and soon a very babel of sounds
arose--yells, shrieks, the snap of pistols and clash of steel, together
with the fighting cries of half-a-dozen nationalities. The British,
after their long inactivity, seemed positively to revel in the fight,
and M’Farlane, Larry, and the Welsh sergeant laid about them in high
glee.
While the British soldiers were fighting, the Bulgarians crept round to
a spot where they had seen the prisoners tied to trees, and liberated
them. The Bashi-Bazouks, seeing this, and knowing they had nothing to
gain by further fighting, soon made a rush for their horses, mounted,
and rode off, firing their pistols as they went. A few flesh-wounds was
all the damage done to the British, and in high jubilation they returned
to the village.
It was far too late to think of returning to camp that night, and so
they slept at the grateful Bulgarian’s house. Next morning, after a good
meal had been given the soldiers, the elders of the village and the
rescued prisoners thanked them very heartily for their services, and
then, laden with presents, they started for their camp. This they duly
reached without further adventure, and immediately went to their
respective regiments to report themselves and account for their absence.
Jack and Will met Sergeant Linham as they were crossing their own lines,
and that worthy looked sternly at them.
‘Ha, hum, you toads!’ he said, ‘where have you been? Corporal Napper
gave information that you had deserted, and an order for your arrest is
out.’
‘And if it isn’t desertion it’s absence without leave,’ said a
disagreeable voice; and, turning, the trumpeters saw Corporal Napper
regarding them evilly. ‘They’re to be put under arrest, sergeant,’ he
said; and in two minutes Jack and Will found themselves prisoners,
charged with a grave crime.