THE BLACK LANDING
From that time on there was no lack of work. The spirits of the me,
went up fifty per cent, and the general health improved in like ratio.
Hard work proved the best of tonics.
And, of a truth, a tonic was needed. It took the Guards--the flower of
the British army--two days march from Aladyn to the sea at Varna, a
distance of ten miles. So reduced were they by sickness, that five
miles a day was all they could manage, and even then their packs were
carried for them.
For those in charge there was no rest, by day or Light, until the
embarkation was complete. When Jim Carron followed his last horse on
board the _Himalaya_, he tumbled into a bath and then into a bunk, and
slept for twenty-four hours without moving a finger.
But he had ample time, when he woke up, fresh and hungry, to admire
that most wonderful sight of close on seven hundred ships, of all
shapes and sizes--from the stately _Agamemnon_, flying the Admiral's
flag, to the steam-tug _Pigmy_, wrestling valiantly with a transport
twenty times her size--as they crept slowly across the Black Sea, with
80,000 men on board for the chastisement of the Russian Bear. A sight
for a lifetime, indeed, but one which no man who remembers or thinks
of would ever wish to set eyes on again.
Jim and his fellows, however, rejoiced in it, for without doubt it
meant business at last, and they had almost begun to despair.
So, in due time, they came in sight of the tented mountains and the
coast; and after what seemed to the ardent ones still more vacillation
and delays, the launches and flat-boats got to work, and the long
strip of shingle which lay between the sea and a great lake behind
became black with men.
All was eagerness and anticipation. The voyage had had a good effect
on bodies sorely weakened by disease, and the prospect of active
employment at last a still better effect on hearts that had grown
heavy with disappointment.
But ten days of life-giving sea cannot entirely undo the mischief of
the sickly months ashore. Numbers died on the voyage. Of those who
landed, few indeed were the men they had been when they left England
six months before, but hearts ran high if bodies were worn and weak.
That was the busiest day those regions had seen since time began. To
the few bewildered inhabitants it seemed as though the whole unknown
world was emptying itself on their shores.
Before sunset over 60,000 men were landed, and still there were more
to come. All that coast, from Eupatoria to Old Fort, was like an
ant-hill dropped suddenly on to a strange place, over which its tiny
occupants swarmed tumultuously in the endeavour to accommodate
themselves to the new conditions.
The weather, which had held up during the day, broke towards evening.
The surf reared viciously up the shingle beach, and the rain came down
in torrents. The tents were still aboard ship; men and officers alike
sat and soaked throughout the dreary night in extremest misery. Jack
among them. He had been sent on in advance of his corps to make
observations and dispositions for the accommodation of the ordnance,
and carried--according to instructions--nothing but his great-coat
rolled up lengthwise and slung over his shoulder, a canteen of water,
and three days' provision of cooked salt meat and biscuit in a
haversack. The men had their blankets in addition, and their rifles
and bayonets and ammunition.
When the deluge broke on them, and the spray came flying up the beach
in sheets, drenching them alike above and below, the men huddled
together and tried to improvise shelters with their great-coats and
blankets. But Nature was pitiless and seemed to bend her direst
energies to the task of damping their spirits. With their bodies she
had her will, but their spirits were beyond her, for they were on
Russian territory at last, and that meant business.
Jack sat on the wet shingle, back to back with one of his fellows, and
the rain soaked through him, till his very marrow felt cold.
Some of the men near him, crouching under their sopping blankets,
started singing, and "God save the Queen" and "Rule Britannia" rolled
brokenly along the lines for a time. But by degrees the singing died
away, the wet blankets exerted their proverbial influence, and silent
misery prevailed.
The weather had broken before the cavalry got ashore, so Jim spent
that night very gratefully in the comfort of his bunk on the
_Himalaya_, and wondered how they were faring on land.
He was up before sunrise, however, and hard at work, though the waves
were still high, and landing horses would be no easy matter.
And worse [end of line is blank]
He came on Jack prowling anxiously among the black masses just
wakening into life again.
"Hello, Jim!" he said hoarsely. "Where were you? Did you get damp?"
"We're not landed yet. Too rough for the horses."
"Lucky beggars! I never had such a night in my life. It was ghastly.
Why the deuce couldn't they let us have some tents? Those French
beggars had theirs, and the beastly Turks too. We're the worst-managed
lot I ever heard of."
"What's this?" asked Jim, staring open-mouthed at a muffled figure at
his feet--stiff and stark, though all around were stirring. "Why
doesn't he get up?"
"He's got up," said Jack through his teeth. "He's dead, and there's a
score or more like him. Dead of the cold and want of everything. Hang
it! why aren't we Frenchmen or Turks!" A sore speech, born of great
bitterness.
And Jim felt it almost an insult be so warm and hearty and well-fed,
with that dumb witness of the dreadful misery of the night lying
silent at his feet.
And the thought of it all bore sorely on him and brought the lump into
his throat. To pull through the bad times at Varna; to come all that
way across the sea, indomitable spirit overcoming all the weaknesses
of the flesh; to land at last in the high flush of hope,--and then to
die like dogs of cold and misery, on the wet shingle, before their
hope had smallest chance of realisation! Oh, it was hard! It was
bitter hard!
When he reported on board it was decided to make for Eupatoria, where
there was a pier, but before they got under way the weather showed
signs of improvement, and presently the landing began, and for the
next two days both the boys had so much on their hands that they had
no time to think of anything but the contrarinesses of horses and
guns, and the disconcerting effects of high seas on things unused to
them.
In spite of all they lacked, however, the men's spirits rose as soon
as the sun shone out and warmed them. They were on Russian soil at
last, and that made up for everything. All they wanted now was
Russians to come to grips with--Russians in quantity and of a fighting
stomach.
Sebastopol was thirty miles to the south, and between them and it lay
rivers, and almost certainly armies; and on the third day they set off
resolutely to find them. And that day Jim had his first trying
experience of playing target to a distant enemy in deadly sober
earnest.
He had wondered much what it would feel like, and how his inner man
would take it. As for the outer, he had promised himself that that
should show no sign, no matter what happened.
The Hussars were feeling the way in advance, when a bunch of Cossacks
appeared on the hills in front, and representatives of Britain and
Russia took eager stock of one another. They were rough-looking
fellows on sturdy horses, and carried long lances. They rode down the
hill as though to offer battle, and the Englishmen were keen to try
conclusions with them. But behind them, in the hollows, were
discovered dense masses of cavalry waiting for the game to walk into
the net. And when the wary game declined, the cavalry opened out and
disclosed hidden guns, and the game of long bowls began.
The first shots went wide, and Jim watched them go hopping along the
plain with much curiosity. Then came the vicious spurt of white smoke
again, and the man and horse alongside him collapsed in a heap; the
horse with a most dolorous groan, the man--Saxelby, a fine young
fellow of his own troop--with a gasping cry, his leg shorn clean off
at the knee.
Jim's heart went right down into his stomach for a moment as the blood
spirted over him, and he felt deadly sick.
His first impulse was to jump down and help poor Saxelby, but he
feared for himself if he did so--feared he would fall in a heap
alongside him and perhaps not be able to get up, for he felt as weak
as water.
He clenched his teeth till they ached. He dropped his bridle hand on
to his holster to keep it from shaking, and clasped his horse so
tightly with his knees that he resented it and began to fret and
curvet. Jim bent over and patted him on the neck, and two troopers got
down and carried Saxelby away. The horse stopped jerking its legs and
lay still, with its eyes wide and white, and its nostrils all bloody,
and its teeth clenched and its lips drawn back in a horrid grin.
The guns had found their range and were spitting venomously now. Half
a dozen more of his men were down. He was quite sure he would be next.
He thought in a whirl for a moment,--of Gracie; she would marry Jack,
and all that matter would be smoothed out;--and of Mr. Eager, the dear
fellow!--and his father, and he wished they had seen more of one
another;--and Sir Denzil, he was not such a bad old chap after
all. He thought they would be sorry for him. And Mme Beteta, he
wondered---- Well, maybe he would know all about it in a minute or
two.
Then his heart rose suddenly right up into his head, and he was filled
with a vast blazing anger at this being shot at with never a chance of
a stroke in reply. If they would only let them go for those d----d
Russians he would not feel so bad about it! But to be shot down like
pheasants! It was not business! It was all d----d nonsense! He began
to get very angry indeed.
His quickened ear had caught the rattle of artillery coming up behind.
But it had stopped. Why the deuce had it stopped? Why couldn't someone
do something before they were all bowled over?
Then at last there came a roar on their flank, and some of the newer
horses kicked and danced, and Jim, staring hard at the Russians, saw a
lane cleft through them where the shot had gone.
He clenched his teeth now to keep in a wild hurrah. It was an odd
feeling. He knew nothing about those fellows under the hill, but he
hated them like sin and rejoiced in their destruction. He would have
liked to slaughter every man of them with his own hand. If he had been
able to get at them he would have hacked and slashed till there wasn't
one left.
No more balls came their way now. The guns turned on one another, and
presently the Russians limbered up and retired--and it was over, and
he was still alive. And then he was thankful.
Jim went off in search of Saxelby and the other half-dozen wounded
men, as soon as he came in, and found them trimmed up and bandaged,
just starting in litters for the ships, and all very angry at being
knocked out before they had had a chance.
Then they crossed the Bulganak and bivouacked for the night, in
grievous discomfort still from lack of tents and shortage of
provisions, but strung to cheerfulness by the fact that they were
really in touch with the enemy at last--triumph surely of mind over
matter. Notwithstanding which, the morning disclosed another pitiful
tale of deaths from cold and exposure--brave fellows who would not
knock under in spite of pains and weakness, and had dragged themselves
along lest they should be "out of the fun," and died silently where
they lay for lack of the simple necessities of life.
Rightly or wrongly the blame fell on the commissaries, and the dead
men's comrades flung them curses hot enough to fire a ship. For
meeting the Russians in fair fight was one thing, and altogether to
their liking; but this lack of foresight and provision took them below
the belt in every sense of the word, and was like an unexpected blow
from the fist of one's backer.