INSIDE THE FIERY RING
Nothing could exceed the kindness of their new friends to the
strangers cast so curiously on their care.
Brother John's ring had been an Open Sesame to their hearts, and they
vied with one another in the repayment in kind for all that the absent
one had received at Jim's hands.
Madame Greski and Tatia devoted themselves to Jack as if he had been
brother John himself. No single thing that could make for his comfort
and well-being was lacking on their part. Never was wounded man tended
with more loving and unremitting attention.
And when Jim thought of the bleak miseries of the camps up there on
the hill-sides, and the long-drawn horrors of the passages on the
hospital ships, he thanked God in his heart that Jack was where he
was.
For himself, although the rôle of prisoner of war was little to his
taste, it was still mighty interesting to be inside Sebastopol after
gazing at it so long from the outside. There was so little doing
outside that it seemed to him that he was not missing much; in due
course they would probably be exchanged; and meanwhile the difference
between the mud-and-canvas life of the camps and this warm and
cheerful home in the town was somewhat in the ratio of hell and
heaven.
In view of the abounding comforts with which they were surrounded, it
was indeed difficult at times to realise the actual and astounding
fact that they were undergoing a siege that would rank as one of the
great sieges of the world's history; that this comfortable town was an
almost impregnable fortress; and that England and France, outside
there, were bending all their energies to its reduction.
For they lacked nothing. Supplies were abundant. They were warm and
well-fed, and, beyond the dull boom of the distant guns, they heard
nothing of the siege. Through that unclosable northern door, by night
and by day, long strings of carts brought in to them everything that
was necessary, and much besides. Contrary to custom, it was the
besiegers who suffered, not the besieged.
And Jim, when Tatia drove him away from Jack's bedside, to seek
exercise and fresh air lest she should have another patient on their
hands, quietly observing everything--the rude strength of the
defences, the unlimited, even wastefully profuse stores of guns and
ammunition, the teeming barracks full of men, and that ever-open door
though which the limitless supplies could still be drawn upon--said to
himself that the siege might go on for ever.
Jack, however, was in most distressing condition. The slightest
exertion, any movement almost, brought on painful fits of coughing
which seemed to shake his wounded chest to pieces. Speaking was out of
the question, for even breathing was difficult to him; and all Jim
could do, to show him what he felt about it all, was to sit by his
bedside, holding his hand at times, and at times forcing himself to
unnaturally cheerful talk lest the dreadful silence should bring him
to foolishness in other ways. For he felt certain, from Jack's
appearance and the doctor's manner, that his case was hopeless and the
end not far off, and the thought of it was terrible to him.
Of the consequences--of the results to himself, at Carne and
Wyvveloe--not one thought. The fluttering of the shadowy wings put all
other considerations to rout. This that lay so still on the bed was
dear old Jack, and the fear that he was going filled all his heart and
mind.
But Tatia, pretty as she was, and of a most vivacious disposition,
possessed so much common-sense.
Again and again she insisted on Jim quitting the room and the house,
and threatened him with penalties if he came back under a couple of
hours. And when her brother was available she would send them off
together, begging them only to beware above all things of pointed
shells and to turn up again in due course whole and undamaged.
"I would nurse you with enjoyment," she said, her soft dark eyes
dwelling appreciatively on Jim's sorrowful long face, in which they
seemed to find something that appealed to her strongly. "But, for
yourself, you will be better to keep well. If you come back in less
than two hours you shall have only half a dinner. Louis, you will see
to it."
And Greski would march him away to the harbour front where walking was
safe, since the shells rarely topped the hill, and they would discuss
matters from both sides as they went.
On that side of the town there was little sign of the siege beyond the
activities of the quays, and an occasional roar from the man-of-war
moored under Fort Nicholas. But when they strolled along the front,
and came round the hill, and up by St. Michael's church and the tower
whose clock bore on its face the name of "Barraud, London," then all
the grim actualities met them full face.
Up there, across the Admiralty Harbour--whose head ran up into the
gorge wherein lay the fatal Ovens out of which they had come into
captivity--beyond the great barracks and the hospital, up there on the
hill-side lay the huge works which Jim knew as the Malakof and the
Redan, but which Greski spoke of as the Korniloff and No. 3--very
different in the rear from what they were in front, grim and
forbidding, but crude and rough and unfinished-looking. And those
little zigzag piles of earth just beyond them were the British
trenches, and up on the plateau beyond were the tents, which shone so
white in the morning sun, but were so horribly thin and cold of a
night, and so dirty when you got close to them.
He could see the Picket House, and knew just what the usual crowd
about it would look like; and he could see the gunners moving about
the platforms inside the Russian works, and now and again white clouds
of smoke rolled over them and the angry roar came bellowing across the
quiet waters of the harbour, and the mole-heaps on the hill-side
spurtled out in reply.
Now and again a shell came hurtling into the town from the Lancasters
or the French batteries, but did little damage on that side, since
there was little damage left to be done.
Up there to the right, as they went on past the Admiralty buildings
and the cathedral, the houses were mostly in ruins, the streets were
already barricaded in anticipation of assault, and the whole scene was
one of dismal desolation.
And at times they would meet stretchers carrying broken men, and
again, strings of carts carrying rough red coffins up to the cemetery.
But Jim deemed it wise, from every point of view, to keep, as a rule,
away from the actual scene of operations. It was slow work watching at
a distance the very leisurely operations, and it gave him little to
report. But he had an idea that if he showed too great an interest in
their concerns the authorities might perhaps tighten his tether, and
that might mean separation from Jack. Now and again, however, the
desire to see for himself how things were going on got the better of
him, and he would creep into some deserted corner of the hot side of
the town and endeavour to estimate the possibilities.
And from such observations he always came away downcast and
disheartened, for, as far as he could see, the besiegers made no
progress whatever, while the besieged toiled unremittingly at the
strengthening of their defences, and blocked every possibility of
entrance with their mighty earthworks. Up that side of the town went
an unceasing stream of men and carts carrying fascines and gabions and
shot and shell, and strings of straining horses dragging big guns from
the arsenal; and new works, fully equipped, sprang up like mushrooms
in a night.
But there were dark days also, when Greski was on duty in the
bastions, or nominated for a sortie. And then madame and Tatia went
about very quietly and nervously, and started at any unusual sound,
and showed their fears in their faces.
But he was very fortunate, and came home each time to their joyful
welcome with his tale of catastrophe to others whom they knew, but
himself escaped unhurt, and they all breathed freely till his turn
came round again.
Christmas slipped by almost unnoticed. When he did, by accident, awake
to the fact that it really was Christmas Day, the difference between
this and other Christmas Days gave Jim an unusual fit of the blues.
He thought of them all at Wyvveloe, and wondered if Gracie had decked
the church with holly. He knew they would all be thinking about them,
probably in great distress of mind. What news concerning them had
reached home he could not tell. After much discussion with Greski, who
assured him it would be useless, he had requested permission from the
authorities to write home, subject to their inspection. But his
request was returned to him with a brief inscription in Russian, which
Greski translated as "out of the question."
So he could only hope that Colonel Carron would have been able to make
inquiries under one of the occasional flags of truce, and had sent
word home. But operations were slow at the moment; there had been
neither assaults nor sorties of any consequence, and so flags of truce
and opportunities of communication were of rare occurrence.
Yes, he knew it must be a bitter, sad Christmas for them all at
home--for the many who had already got their fatal news, and for the
more who awaited theirs in fear and trembling. And he knew too well
what a shockingly thin and sore one it must be for the gaunt,
shoeless, half-starved and ill-clad men in the thin white tents on the
heights over there.
And when, through the weight of their colouring, his dismal thoughts
plumbed deeper depths than was his wont, the grim irony of this most
unchristian Christmas sat heavily on him. Christmas!--bristling with
raw yellow earthworks, shattered with bursting shells, ghastly with
crawling processions of broken men and more peaceful red coffins!
Christmas!--peace on earth and goodwill----! And yet, after eighteen
hundred years, here were so-called Christian nations at one another's
throats, tearing and rending the image of God into raw red fragments,
and with no thought but for destruction.
They were, many of them, very good fellows, these Russians. They would
stop him in the street--those whom he had met that first morning,
those who were left--and greet him cordially, and ask after his
brother, and express their regrets, and he had no more desire to kill
them than he had to kill Lord Raglan himself. And yet, set him on the
hill-side up there, and all his thought would be towards their
destruction.
Truly it was a queer world, and there must be something wrong
somewhere! But it was all beyond him, and he could only brood and
wonder.
Their New Year was ushered in on the night of the twelfth with great
illuminations, much ringing of church bells, and a solemn service in
the cathedral--by a terrific bombardment of their fellow Christians on
the hill-side, and two furious sorties, which effected nothing beyond
an increase in the tally of broken men and in the cart-loads of red
coffins creaking away to the cemetery.
"Absolutely useless," acknowledged Greski, when his mother and Tatia
released him from their warm embraces on his return. "But the Chief
thinks it does the men good to go out occasionally after all their
dirty work on the new bastions."