CHAPTER XXI.

SERGEANT LINHAM TAKES COMMAND.

There was for the moment no means of telling what was befalling their

comrades; and the imprisoned Lancers pounded and thundered at the door

and sides of their prison, but without avail.

In a few minutes they desisted, when they heard a sputtering volley,

replied to by a sharper one. A ringing cheer, undeniably British,

followed; then a clatter of hoofs, a chorus of cries, and all was quiet

again. Some little time passed in anxious uncertainty.

‘I wish I had my hands on the rogue who locked us in,’ cried Will

savagely, battering upon the door.

‘Don’t do that!’ said the sergeant sharply. ‘We’re in rather a tight

fix, and we shall have to be very careful how we act. I take command,

and no man moves except by my orders.’

The ring of authority in the sergeant’s voice was unmistakable. Though

the trumpeters made fun of him, he was yet known as a brave soldier and

one who had seen much war-service; therefore, apart from the right which

his rank conveyed, all were ready to yield him unquestioning obedience.

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.

Blair of Balaclava · 第 21 / 48 章