ALMA
At noon next day they came to a shallow river winding between red clay
banks, a somewhat undignified stream whose name they were to blazon in
letters of blood on the rolls of fame--the Alma.
The Russians were strongly entrenched on the hills on the other side
and in great force, and every man knew that here was a giant struggle
and glory galore for the winners.
It was a great fight, but it was mostly rifle and bayonet and the grim
reaction from those deadly slow months at Varna. And the Engineers had
little to do but watch the others, as they dashed through the muddy
stream, and climbed the roaring heights in the face of death, and
captured the great redoubt at dreadful cost. And the cavalry were
miles away on the left, covering the attack on that side from five
times their own weight of Russian cavalry, who never came on, and so
they had nothing to do and were disgusted at being out of it.
So neither Jack nor Jim were in that fight, but afterwards they
climbed the hill with separate searching parties and met by chance in
the redoubt on top, and looked on sights unforgettable, which made a
deep and grim impression on them both.
It was the first battlefield they had ever set eyes on, and they spoke
very little.
"God! Isn't it awful?" said Jack through his teeth, as they stood
looking down the hill towards the river flowing unconcernedly to the
sea, just as it had done when they came to it at noon, just as it had
done all through the dreadful uproar when men were falling in their
thousands. The ground between was strewn and heaped and piled with
dead bodies.
But Jim had no words for it. He could only shake his head.
While they were still gazing awe-stricken at the ghastly piles of
broken men, among which the litter-men were prowling in anxious search
for wounded, a group of brilliantly clad officers came up from the
French camp, where the rows of comfortable white tents set English
teeth grinding with envy and chagrin. And among them they saw Prince
Napoleon and Colonel Carron.
Their father saw them in the redoubt and came up at once. "Glad to see
you still alive, boys," he said cheerfully. "Hot work, wasn't it?"
"Awful, sir. Were you in it?" asked Jack.
"Oh yes. We came across there"--pointing to a burnt-out village on the
river-bank--"and then up here. Here's where we got the guns up to
relieve Bosquet. We've paid pretty heavily, but it's shown them what
we're made of. You weren't in it, I suppose, Jim?"
"No sir; we were waiting over yonder for some cavalry to come on, but
they wouldn't. Worse luck!"
"Your chances will come, my boy. And you, Jack?"
"We had very little to do, sir. We were away in the rear there."
"Your men did splendidly. Canrobert was just saying that he doubted if
our men would have managed that frontal business as yours did."
"They paid," said Jim.
"And are still paying," said the Colonel, as they stood watching the
French ambulances, with their trim little mules, trotting off towards
the coast, carrying a dozen wounded men in quick comfort, while the
English litter-men crept slowly along on their jogging four-mile
tramp, which proved the death of many a sorely wounded man and
purgatory to the rest.
"Truly, your arrangements are not up to the mark." said Colonel
Carron. "How have you stood the nights? Somebody was saying you had no
tents."
"Last night was the first time we've had any, and they've all been
sent on board again," said Jack gloomily.
"That's too bad. It's hard on the men."
"We lose a number every night with the cold."
"Bad management---- The Prince is off. I must go. Good luck to you,
boys! I shall come over and look you up from time to time. Keep out of
mischief!" And he waved a cheery hand and was gone, and the boys went
down among the ghastly piles to do what they could.
But it was heart-breaking work; the total of misery was so immense,
and the means of alleviation so feeble in comparison.
The French wounded were safe on board ship within an hour after they
were picked up. It was two days before all the English were disposed
of, though every man who could be spared set his hand to the work.
In the afternoon of the second day after the fight, Jim was going
wearily down the hill, after such a time among the dead and wounded as
had made him almost physically sick.
All the French, and he thought almost all the English, wounded had
been seen to. The Russians had necessarily been left to the last.
As he passed a grisly pile he thought he caught a faint groan from
inside it, and set to work at once hauling the dead men apart, with
tightened face and repressed breath. The job was neither pleasant nor
wholesome, but there was no one else near at hand and he must see to
it.
Right at the bottom of the pile, soaked with the blood of those who
had fallen on top of him, he came upon a young fellow, an officer,
just about his own age. And as he dragged the last body off him, he
opened his eyes wearily and groaned.
Jim put his pocket-flask to the white lips, and the other sucked
eagerly and a touch of colour came into his face. He lay looking up
into the face bending over him, and then his chest filled and he
sighed.
"Where are you hurt?" asked Jim, expecting no answer, but full of
sympathy.
"Leg and side," said the wounded one, in English with an accent.
"I'll fetch a litter."
"Stay moment. Only dead men--two days. Good to see a live
one. . . . Did you win?"
"Yes, we won, but at very heavy cost."
"Glad you won."
"That doesn't sound good," said honest Jim, with disfavour.
"You would feel same. Hate Russians. . . . Pole."
"I see," said Jim, whose history was nebulous, but equal to the
occasion.
"Forced to fight," said the wounded man. "Done with it now."
"Take some more rum--it'll warm you up; and I'll find a litter for
you."
"Have you bread? I starve. . . ."
"I'll see if I can get you something."
"Open his roll." And the wounded man turned his eyes hungrily on the
nearest dead body. And Jim, opening the linen roll which each Russian
carried, found a lump of hard black bread and placed it in his hand.
"I thank. You will come again?" asked the young Pole anxiously.
"I'll come back all right, as soon as I've found a litter." And he
left the wounded man feebly gnawing his chunk of black bread like a
starving dog.
He found a litter in time, and the weary eyes brightened a trifle at
sight of him.
"You are good," he murmured. "You save me."
And Jim, thinking what he would like himself in similar case, went
along by his side till they found a doctor resting for a moment, and
begged him to examine the new-comer.
"His leg must go. The body wound will heal," said the medico. "Seems
to have had a bad time. Where did you find him?"
"I found him under fifteen dead men."
"Then he owes you his life."
"Yes, yes," said the wounded one "I am grateful. Take the leg off."
"He's a Pole, forced to fight against his will," said Jim, at the
doctor's astonishment.
"I see"--as he screwed a tourniquet on the shattered limb. "We're
sending all their wounded to Odessa."
At which the young man groaned.
"Hold his hand," said the doctor. "He's pretty low." And Jim held the
twitching hand while the knife and the saw did their work, and was not
sure whether it was his hand that jumped so or the other's.
The other hand suddenly lay limp in his, and he thought the man was
dead.
"Fainted," said the doctor. "He's been bleeding away for two days."
He came round, however, and tried to smile when he saw Jim still
there. And presently he murmured:
"I thank." And then he looked down at his hand all caked with blood,
and tried feebly to get a ring off his finger.
"Take!" he said. But Jim shook his head.
"Yes, yes." And he wrestled feebly again with the ring.
"Better humour him," said the doctor. "It'll do him more good than to
refuse."
So Jim worked the ring off for him, and slipped it on his own finger,
and the wounded man said "I thank!" and lay back satisfied.
Jim saw him carried down to the boat and wished him luck, and then
strode away to his own quarters, which consisted of a seat on the side
of a dry ditch--dry at present, but which would be soaking with dew
before morning--with his brown horse picketed alongside, as hungry and
low-spirited as his master.
Jim looked at his ring and thought of its late owner, and hoped he
would get over it, and wondered how soon his own turn would come. For
the thing that amazed him was that any single man could come alive out
of a fight like that at the Alma.
His horse nuzzled hungrily at him, and he suddenly bethought him of
the black bread in the Russians' linen rolls. He jumped up, tired as
he was, and trode away to the battlefield again, and came back with
chunks of hard tack and black bread enough to make his brown and some
of his neighbours happy for the night.
Marshal St. Arnaud, sore sick as he was, was eager to press on at once
after the discomfited Russians. But "an army marches on its stomach,"
and it was two full days before Lord Raglan could make a move. Those
two lost days might have changed the whole course of the campaign, and
saved many thousands of lives. The defective organisation of the
British transport and commissariat slew more than all the Russian
bullets.
On the third morning, as the sun rose all the trumpets, bugles, and
drums in the French army pealed out from the summit of the captured
hill, and presently the allied armies were _en route_ again for
Sebastopol.
The next day, however, saw a sudden change of plans and a most
remarkable happening. The allied chiefs gave up the idea of attacking
the town from the north, on which side all preparations had been made
for their reception, and decided, instead, to march right round and
take it on its undefended south side. And so began that famous flank
march to Balaclava which was to turn all the defences of the fortress.
And on that selfsame day the Russian chief, Menchikoff, decided to
march out of Sebastopol into the open, and so turn the flank of the
allies. And the two lines of march crossed at Mackenzie's farm.
The Russians had got out first, however, and it was only their
rear-guard upon whom the English chanced, and immediately fell, and
put to rout. They chased them for several miles and took their
military chest and great booty of baggage which, being left to the men
as lawful prize, cheered them greatly.
When Jim got back from the chase the new owners were offering for sale
dazzling uniforms, and decorations, and handsome fur coats, at
remarkable prices. He had no yearning for Russian uniforms or
decorations, but as he suffered much from the cold of a night he
bought two of the wonderful coats for five pounds each, and, when they
halted, he sought out Jack and made him happy with one of them.