THE LONG SLOW SIEGE
It was the most trying time Jim had ever spent. He had had no
experience whatever of sick-beds, beyond his own short spell after
Balaclava, and even that was as different from this deadly monotony as
well could be. But he stuck to it valiantly, and was only saved from
physical and mental collapse himself by Tatia's arbitrary oversight.
If there had been anything going on outside he might have found the
change from the sick-room bracing, but both besieged and besiegers
were too busy girding their loins for another struggle to waste time
or powder on useless display.
The Allies had found the nut too hard to crack, and were working hard
on preparation for the next blow; and those inside, fully informed of
everything that went on in the camps, were straining every nerve to
resist it.
So big guns and mortars went toiling up to the heights from Balaclava
Bay, and mountains of gabions and fascines and more big guns went
toiling up the heights inside to face them, and for days hardly a shot
would be fired on either side.
It was towards the end of February that Greski said to Jim, one day
when Tatia had turned them out-of-doors--"Come, and I will show you
something new." And they went round to the eastern slope, looking out
towards the Karabelnaia suburb and the Malakoff and Redan--all of
which Jim knew by heart.
And at the first glance Jim saw a change in the look of things.
A new fort had sprung up in the night between the Malakoff, which till
now had been the foremost Russian work on that side, and the French
trenches--a fort of size too, all a-bristle with gabions and fascines
round the crown of the flat hill. The thousands of men still working
at it made it look like a great ant-heap.
"French!" said Jim, after his first quick glance, with a feeling of
exultation, for the new work must seriously menace, if not command,
the Malakoff.
"French?--no, my friend!--Russian! Truly your people are not very
wideawake. Todleben has been expecting them to seize that hill ever
since they crept so close, and it would have been bad for the
Korniloff Bastion, you see. So, as they did not, and it seemed a pity
no one should use it, he occupied it last night, and ten thousand men
have been busy on it ever since."
"Hang it! What fools we were to let it slip!"
"Undoubtedly! And without doubt you will now try to recover it, and it
will cost you many men, and us also, and so the game goes on."
And that very same night, when Jack had at last fallen asleep, Greski
said to Jim, as though he were inviting him to a theatre party:
"At midnight we will take a little walk, and you will see your friends
attempt to recover the new fort, the Mamelon.
"You seem to know all about it," said Jim incredulously.
"Of course. That again is where we beat you. We know all your plans.
We have plans of every trench you cut with every gun you place in it."
"Not from any of our men," said Jim, with heat, for underhand work
such as that struck him offensively.
"Oh no. But your men talk too much among themselves, and our spies are
through your camps night and day. They all speak French, you see, and
uniforms are easy to get, whereas none of your people speak Russian
well enough to pass muster for a moment. I can even tell you that the
attack will be all French--Zouaves, Marines, and Chasseurs, under
three thousand in all, and the General Monet will be in command. They
will walk right up into the trap and will all be killed or captured."
"It is sheer murder."
"What would you? It is war; and after all, though I hate Russia, one
cannot help remembering that she did not invite you to come here. We
will wait here. It is not yet time."
"Why aren't you up there yourself?"
"I was in the last sortie and it is not my turn, _Dieu merci!_ for it
will be hot up there to-night. There are plenty of us, you see, and we
take fair turns."
All was dark and still up along the distant hill-side, so void of
offence that Jim began to wonder if Greski had not made a mistake. But
after several impatient glances at his watch by the glow of his cigar,
he said at last:
"Now--it is time! Watch!--over there!"
But the minutes passed--long, long minutes, almost the longest Jim had
ever lived through.
"Doesn't seem coming off," he jerked.
"Wait!" jerked Greski, at tension also. "They were to start at
midnight. They have a quarter-mile to cover, and they will go
cautiously because the ground behind there is bad. We are to let them
come right up and--ah--_voilà!_" as the darkness behind the new fort
blazed and roared and became an inferno of deadly strife; terrific
volleys of musketry and the hoarse shouting of men--no big guns, and
presently even the firing became desultory, but the turmoil waxed
louder and louder.
Greski danced with excitement.
"_Mon Dieu!_ but they are fighting!--hand to hand! They are devils to
fight, those Zouaves. I wish--I wish--but it is not safe here to
wish."
The turmoil came rolling round this side of the hill; the Russians
were falling back. Then flaming volleys broke out on each side of the
turmoil.
"Ah--ah--ah! Supports from Korniloff," jerked Greski.
And then suddenly the Malakoff and Redan big guns blazed out, and
poured an avalanche of shot and shell and rockets on the gallant
attack, and it withered and melted away.
"Two--three thousand men in pieces, and as you were!" was Greski's
summing up.
"Infernal butchery," growled Jim, much worked up.
"What would you, my friend? It is war." And they went soberly home,
thinking of the horrors of the red hill-side and all the broken men
who lay there, while all the church bells in the town clashed pæans of
victory overhead as they went.
The one bright ray to Jim, in this time of gloom, was the fact that
Jack was without doubt slowly improving, to the great satisfaction and
greater surprise of his wearied but unwearying nurses and the Grand
Duke's doctor.
"He has no right to live," said the latter, "and yet he lives, and may
live. It is marvellous." But then he had not known how the open-air
life on the flats prepared a man for contingencies such as this.
It was long before Jack could speak above a whisper without suffering,
and then at last he was able to sit propped up with pillows and to
take an interest in things in general, But the gardens were full of
hyacinths and crocuses, and there were even patches of them on the
troubled hill-sides, among the white tents and muddy trenches, before
he tasted fresh air again.
Then Jim would lead him on his strong arm, very slowly and with many a
rest, to a sheltered place whence he could see what was going on, and
so keen was his interest that it was no easy matter to get him home
again. And the officers they met on the road would stop them, and
politely inquire after Jack's health, and express their pleasure at
his recovery, and discuss matters with them, and gallantly express
their conviction that the siege would go on for ever, but admit all
the same that if it could honourably end they would not be sorry.
They had another ray of hope when the news came of the death of the
Tsar. Would it mean an end of the terrible struggle, and release, and
home? Their hearts--and not theirs only--beat high with hope, and fell
the lower when the word came that the fight was to go on to the bitter
end.