JIM'S RIDE
Next day the allied forces crossed the Tchernaya by the Traktir Bridge
and marched on Balaclava.
And here Jim's threefold reputation as a hard rider, the best-mounted
man in his regiment, and a man who did, brought him a chance of fresh
distinction.
In abandoning the coast and marching inland, the army had cut itself
off from its base of supply--the fleet. It was urgently necessary that
word should be sent to the admirals to move on round the coast past
Sebastopol and meet the army in its new quarters.
Just as they were crowding over Traktir Bridge a rider came galloping
up with dispatches for Lord Raglan--Lieutenant Maxse of the
_Agamemnon_. He had left Katcha Bay that morning, and offered at once
to ride back with orders for the fleet to move on. A brave offer, for
the country was all wild forest and lonely plain and valley, infested
with prowling bands of Cossacks, and the night was falling.
An hour later Maxse, on a fresh horse, was galloping back to the
coast.
"If anything should happen to him," said the Chief, "we shall be in a
hole." And he sent for Lord Lucan.
"I want your best horseman and your best horse, Lucan, and a man who
will put a thing through."
"That's young Carron of the Hussars, sir."
And Jim, paraded for inspection on his big brown horse--quite filled
out and frolicsome with its load of black bread the day but one
before--seemed likely in the Chief's eyes.
"Mr. Carron," he said. "I have a dangerous task for you. I am told you
are the man for it. Lieutenant Maxse left here an hour ago for the
ships. They must get round at once and meet us at Balaclava. Here is a
copy of the order. If Maxse has not got through you will deliver it to
Admiral Dundas in Katcha Bay. Don't lose a moment. The welfare of the
army depends on you."
Jim saluted.
"How will you go?"
"Mackenzie's farm and the post-road, sir."
"You are armed? You may meet Cossacks."
"Sword and revolver. I shall manage all right."
"Come round with the ships and report to me at Balaclava."
Jim saluted once more, and spurred away.
The distance was only some twenty miles, an easy two hours' ride. The
dangers lay in the hostile country and the prowling Cossacks, for in
the long defile from the farm to the Belbec, and then again in the
broken country between the Belbec and the Katcha, there were a
thousand places where a rider might be picked off from the hill-sides
and never catch a glimpse of his adversary.
However, it was no good thinking of all that, and Jim was not one to
cross bridges before he came to them, or to meet trouble half-way. His
big brown had a long, easy stride which was almost restful to his
rider, and Jim had a seat that gave his horse the least possible
inconvenience, and between them was completest sympathy and
friendship.
And as to the dark, unless he absolutely ran into Cossacks he reckoned
it all in his favour. It kept down his pace indeed, but at the same
time it hid him from the watchful eyes on the hill-sides and the
leaden messages they might have sent him.
He received warm commendation for that night's ride, but, as simple
matter of fact, he enjoyed it greatly, and had no difficulties beyond
keeping the road in the dark and making sure it was the right one.
Plain common-sense, however, bade him always trend to the left when
cross-roads offered alternatives, and after leaving Mackenzie's he
never set eyes on a soul till he found the Belbec an hour before
midnight, and rode up through the wreathing mists of the river-bed to
the highlands beyond.
The dew was drenching wet and the night cold, but he got into his big
fur coat, which had been rolled up behind his saddle, and suffered not
at all.
His thoughts ran leisurely back to them all at home,--Gracie, and Mr.
Eager, and his grandfather, and Lord Deseret, and Mme Beteta, and his
father's amazing revelation concerning her. He wondered whether they
would ever learn the truth, and if not, how the tangle would be
straightened out. He thought dimly, but with no great fear now, that
they would probably both be killed if there was much fighting such as
that at the Alma, so there was no need to trouble about the future.
Charlie Denham, indeed, never ceased to philosophise that it was
always the other fellow who was going to be killed; but if every one
thought that, it was evident, even to Jim's unphilosophic mind, that
there must be a flaw somewhere.
Anyway, when a man's time came he died, and there was no good worrying
oneself into the blues beforehand.
A hoarse challenge broke suddenly on his musings, and a darker blur on
the road just in front resolved itself into half a dozen horsemen.
They had heard his horse's hoofs, and waited in silence to see who
came.
He had pulled the hood of his fur coat right up over his busby, and
the heavy folds covered him almost down to the feet. He decided in a
moment that safety lay in silence, so he rode straight on, waved a
hand to the doubtful Cossacks, and was past Telegraph Hill before they
had done discussing him.
He wondered if Maxse had met them and how he had fared.
An hour later he forded the Katcha and turned down the valley towards
the sea. Boats were still plying between the sandy beach and the
ships. The Jacks eyed him for a moment with suspicion, but gave him
jovial welcome when they found that only his outer covering was
Russian.
Lieutenant Maxse had just been put aboard the _Agamemnon_, he found,
and a minute or two later he was following him. So Jim had the
pleasure of steaming past the sea-front of Sebastopol to Balaclava
Bay, where they found the ancient little fort on the heights
bombarding the British army with for tiny guns.
They brought it to reason with half a dozen round shot, and presently
steamed cautiously in round the awkward corners, and dropped anchor
opposite the house where Lord Raglan had taken up his quarters.