The celebrated, the historical battle of the Alma was over almost as
soon as Phil had been dragged away, for there was no stopping the
British troops, and once the Russians had turned to retreat, our brave
fellows pressed forward till the summit of the slopes was gained. They
had fought magnificently against desperate odds, and without ever having
need to call upon their reserves. And while the infantry had been busy,
other arms of the service had been by no means idle. The cavalry
protected the left, and the guns, after firing for some time across the
river, had limbered up, and while some crossed by the bridge which
carried the post-road, others plunged through the water to its right,
and ascending close to Telegraph Hill, raked the Russian batteries and
struggling infantry with their fire.
It was a sight to see--an example of the dogged pluck which
characterises our nation; and an example which the French, perched upon
the cliff on the right, did not fail to watch with admiration, and with
a secret determination to emulate it on the first occasion.
And now that the enemy had retreated, the British guns still plied them
with shot. Lord Raglan longed to convert their retirement into a rout,
but the French had discarded their knapsacks before fording the river,
and on the plea, that without their kits it was impossible to pursue,
the marshal refused to agree to the plan. Consequently a hard-won
victory, which might easily, by energetic action, have been changed into
one of the greatest importance, proved of little use, and hardly
affected the latter part of the campaign at all. It was a lamentable
mistake, for had the Russian forces been driven pell-mell from the
field, Sebastopol might have surrendered, and thousands of brave and
valuable lives on both sides might have been saved. As it was, a
glorious victory had been achieved at great cost to British and Russians
alike, and all that could be said was that the Crimean campaign had
opened favourably for the Allies.
The victorious army that defeats one portion of the enemy's troops, and
thereby causes the whole force to retire, achieves a success which,
brilliant though it may be, is as nothing compared with that obtained
when the whole of the opposing force is hopelessly crushed and
afterwards captured or driven, a mere herd of terror-stricken beings,
from the field. For the Allies the Alma was a glorious victory, but no
more. The fact that the general and his staff were isolated from the
attacking army at the critical moment, and that in consequence the
troops advanced at wide intervals, while the reserves were never called
into action, ruined all hopes of a really great and telling success.
Had it been otherwise, had the British divisions been poured unceasingly
upon the Russians, they would have engaged the whole of Menschikoffs
great army, and so severely handled it as to hopelessly mar its future
effectiveness.
It was a sad, sad army that bivouacked that night near the river Alma.
Comrades and dear friends were missing; while the flickering lights
hovering over hill and valley showed that the search-parties were at
work, the doctors busy at their merciful and pain-relieving duties, and
the burial-parties delving to prepare huge trenches for the reception of
the dead. It was a terrible ending indeed to a glorious day, but one
that ever follows the crash and turmoil of a battle. It is impossible
to realise its sadness, its awful horror, till you stand beside one of
these trenches, and, with helmet in hand and the bright sun overhead,
read the last rites over your comrades of a few hours ago, who have been
called suddenly, and by the aid of your fellow-men, from beside you.
For two days the Allies remained here, and then, loading arabas, they
advanced by easy stages on Sebastopol. To attack the town and fortress
from the northern side was impossible, for the harbour intervened, and
in consequence the march was resumed till finally the British left
approached the harbour of Balaclava; the rest of the allied forces
extended along the slopes of the Chersonese heights surrounding the
town, and prepared to throw up earthworks in readiness for a gigantic
bombardment.
Meanwhile the Russians in Sebastopol were by no means idle. All
civilians left the town and forts, and, under the great Todleben, their
engineer, thousands set to work with pick and spade to improve their
defences on the south and mount extra guns, relying on their huge army
in the field to keep the allied enemy busy. Unlimited supplies poured
into the town, and thus, though the Allies were besieging it on the
southern side, and the harbour-mouth was blockaded by the opposing
fleet, it was in a position to hold out for an indefinite period.
Meanwhile what had become of our hero?
A burly, grey-clad Cossack had charge of Phil, and noticing that he was
exhausted after the struggle in which he had been engaged, he turned and
spoke kindly to him.
"We will go along easily till you have got your wind," he said. "You
must be tired after such a fight. My word, what gluttons you English
are for hard knocks and desperate battles! I watched from the summit of
the hill and saw you and your comrade rush to the rescue of the flag.
It was a mad act, Englishman, but bravely done. But come, I am
forgetting. You are a comrade in distress. Take a sip from this
bottle. It is vodka with a little water added, and will put new life
into you."
Phil thanked him heartily, and as soon as they were out of range of the
British batteries, sat down on a boulder and took a pull at the
Cossack's flask.
"Thank you, my friend!" he exclaimed earnestly. "A short rest here will
do me a world of good. Have we far to go to-night?"
"What! You speak our language, Englishman! Good!" and the Russian's
broad and rugged face lit up with a kindly smile. "Yes," he continued,
"we have a long way to go. But you are tired. Give me your word that
you will not attempt to throw me, or get the better of me, and I will
let you mount behind on the crupper. Come, there is no one about, and
before we join the squadron again you can dismount."
Phil readily gave the required promise, and, vaulting up behind the
friendly Cossack, they pushed on amongst the retreating infantry.
"What has become of my comrades?" asked Phil after a pause, for he was
terribly afraid that Tony and the officer were killed.
"Comfort yourself, Englishman, they too are prisoners, and you will meet
them at the camp; but I doubt whether they will reach there so easily as
you, for Alexoff has charge of your soldier friend, while the brave
wounded officer walks by the side of our commander, who is not too kind
to us, and hates all Englishmen bitterly. Yes, I fear it will go hard
with him, for we have lost heavily, and Stackanoff will not easily
forget it."
"And is Stackanoff your commander?" asked Phil.
"Yes, that is his name. His excellency rules us with a rod of iron.
Ah! my English comrade, there is a little girl waiting for me about half
a verst from Moscow town, and I long to break from this life and return
to her. I have served my time, and should have been free long ago, but
Stackanoff keeps me. Ah, how I hate him! Some day, perhaps, I shall
repay him, and meanwhile I will fight for my country, for she has need
of us all."
"Yes, it will be a big struggle," agreed Phil, "and if your comrades
fight as pluckily as they did to-day, Russia will need many brave men to
fill the gaps."
The Cossack gave a hearty grunt of satisfaction, for, though longing to
reach Moscow, he was at heart a patriot, and liked to hear his
brothers-in-arms well spoken of.
"We are friends from this day," he said, grasping Phil's hand. "But
prepare to get down. We are nearing our bivouac, and it would not do to
let Stackanoff see you mounted behind me. Wait, though, I will tell you
when to jump off."
Putting his horse into a gentle trot the Cossack jogged towards a
collection of tents and horsemen. Suddenly there was a shout from
behind them, and just as Phil and his captor joined a squadron of
Cossacks, a small, fierce-looking man, with a bristling moustache and a
face deeply pitted by smallpox, cantered up, dragging beside him an
unhappy captive, who was scarcely able to retain his feet.
Phil's blood boiled, for he recognised in an instant that the prisoner
was the officer who had so bravely carried the colour.
Pulling his horse in with an angry jerk close alongside Phil's captor,
Stackanoff--for it was none other than he--glared at him, and in a harsh
voice, and with many an oath, snarled: "How is this, Vilnoff! What do
you mean? Are these cursed prisoners then to ride upon his majesty's
horses? Come off, you Englishman!" and, dropping his reins, he
stretched out his hand, and, clutching Phil by the shoulder, hurled him
to the ground.
It was not very far to fall, but Phil came an undoubted cropper, and the
sudden and unlooked-for jar, and a yell of derision which rose from the
Cossack ranks at the sight, set his blood aflame still more, for he had
not yet shaken off the excitement of the recent battle. His eyes
flashed angrily, and, picking himself up, he was within an ace of
throwing himself upon the brutal Stackanoff when better counsels
prevailed.
The Cossack commander eyed him suspiciously, and then, with a malicious
glance at Vilnoff and the remark, "You, beast that you are, I will deal
with you to-morrow," dug his spurs into his horse with such force that
the animal sprang forward so suddenly as to upset the unhappy English
officer and drag him along the ground.
"Come, get up, you weak-kneed fool," cried Stackanoff, striking at the
poor fellow with his riding-whip.
It was a brutal act, and even the Cossack horsemen were ashamed of it.
As for Phil, a blind and unreasoning rage seized him, and, dragging the
lasso-noose over his head, he sprang at the Russian, and, lifting him
like a child from the saddle, threw him heavily on the ground and stood
over him, ready to knock him down if he should try to rise, or treat any
other in a similar manner who dared to interfere with him.
"Hurrah, well done, Phil, old boy!" came an excited bellow from the
Cossack ranks; and next moment Tony, who was there, a prisoner, had torn
the rope which held him from the hands of the man who was in charge of
him, and, aiming blows right and left with his fists, rushed forward and
joined Phil.
To say that there was a clamour in the camp is to describe the scene
mildly. For a moment the horsemen were too astonished to move; then,
recovering from their surprise, they lowered their murderous-looking
lances, and would undoubtedly have run all three prisoners through, had
not another officer ridden into the circle at that moment.
He was a tall, dark man, with heavy features and a settled look of
depression on his face. Mounted on a magnificent horse, and bearing the
badges of a staff-officer, there was no doubt that he was a person of no
little importance and authority.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, quietly looking round with a
cold and gleaming eye, which showed that though outwardly calm he was
more than angry at the incident. "These are prisoners, by their
uniform, and one an officer too. Do we then murder captives taken in
battle? Does our august master, the Czar, will it that we should take
the lives of gallant Englishmen in cold blood? Answer me, dogs! Whose
doing is this?" And, slowly glancing round the circle, he fixed the men
with his eyes, each one trembling in his turn and feeling relieved when
his scrutiny was finished.
Then Vilnoff, who had remained close beside Phil all the time, turned in
his saddle and humbly told the officer what had happened.
"Ah, is it so, man?" the latter replied thoughtfully. "Stackanoff
captures prisoners, and leads them away in nooses, as he would drag an
ox. And one is wounded, too. Get down, man, and shake this commander
of yours."
Vilnoff obeyed, doing as his officer ordered him, and at the same time
administering a sly kick. Stackanoff at length opened his eyes, and,
struggling to his feet, stared at the new-comer. Meanwhile Phil and
Tony had relieved their wounded officer of his noose, and were holding
him erect between them.
"Tell me," began the staff-officer, fixing the Cossack commander with a
piercing look, "tell me, my good friend, why you would kill our
prisoners. Have not the enemy many of our brave comrades in their
hands? Do they drag them with ropes and fling the wounded ones to the
ground? Dog!--worse than dog!--your command is taken from you. This
night our sappers return to the fortress and you with them. Go now
before I do worse for you!"
Like a beaten cur the Cossack commander saluted, humbly bowed, calling
the staff-officer "Prince", and then retired.
Now was Phil's chance of asking for good treatment for the wounded
officer, and, leaving Tony to support the poor fellow, he advanced to
the Russian prince, and, standing politely at attention, begged that a
doctor might be sent for.
"So it seems that besides doing your best to kill one of my officers,
you are acquainted with our language," said the prince with a smile,
"Yes, my man, your officer shall have good treatment, and so shall you.
Here, you! your name? Ah--Vilnoff--then you will take charge of these
men for to-night. Send this wounded gentleman into the fortress with
any of our own that may be leaving. A column has been ordered to start
soon after daybreak."
Turning his horse, he nodded to Phil and cantered away.
"My word, but there will be trouble!" said Vilnoff after a few moments'
silence. "That demon Stackanoff is disgraced, and he will never forget.
He will learn that it was I--Vilnoff--who told the prince the whole
truth, and he will repay me. Ah, he will not forget! And you, too, you
Englishmen; he will take his revenge on you also. A Cossack never
forgives. But there will be time to talk of this. Come with me. You
can be free and lie with me beneath my blankets if you will only promise
to stay and not give me the slip."
Phil held a few moments' hurried conversation with Tony before giving
the desired promise.
"We must remember that we are prisoners, Tony," he said, "and though
this good fellow, Vilnoff, is evidently inclined to be most friendly,
and act differently from the majority of his comrades, thereby making
our lot easier, yet we have a duty to perform. We must escape at the
earliest opportunity and try to rejoin our comrades."
"Should think so," Tony grunted. "If it hadn't been for this here chap
there's no saying what would have happened. Most like we should have
been run through with their pig-stickers same as poor old Sam. Those
Cossacks gave me a taste of their gentle treatment on the way here.
They trotted pretty nearly all the way, and if I dragged a bit on the
rope, the brute who was in charge of me just picked up the slack of his
lasso and whopped me over the shoulders. I can feel the sting yet. He
was a big black-bearded chap, and I shall know him and be able to talk
to him in the proper way next time we meets, see if I sha'n't. Yes,
Phil, we've got to get out of this as quick as we can. As for the
promise to Vilnoff, you do as you like."
"Very well," said Phil, turning to the Cossack. "How long are we likely
to be in your charge?" he asked.
"Only till to-morrow, Englishman. Then we Cossacks will leave the camp
and act as outposts and scouts, while you and your friend may be sent
into the fortress. In any case, you will be handed over to the
infantry. Do not fear. I will speak a word for you."
"Then we promise not to attempt to escape while in your charge,
Vilnoff."
"Good!" exclaimed the Cossack. "You will promise, and that is enough,
for we have heard that an Englishman prides himself upon his honour.
After I have left you can do as you wish," he added, smiling in their
faces. "And perhaps it were better that you should risk anything rather
than Stackanoff's vengeance. Ah, that man is a brute! Now, follow me,
and I will see what can be done in the way of food."
Following the friendly Russian, Phil and Tony at length entered the
Cossack lines, and, passing between the horses, reached the farther end,
where Vilnoff rapidly removed his saddle and bridle, and, picketing his
shaggy animal, went in search of some grain.
"The sooner we are out of this the better," muttered Phil. "Just look
round without attracting attention, Tony. These Cossacks are scowling
at us as if they would like to cut our throats."
Tony drew an extremely black pipe from his pocket, and, holding a cake
of plug tobacco above the bowl, dexterously cut shavings with his knife,
ramming them down with his finger till the pipe was filled. Then he
placed it in his mouth, and, calmly stepping over to a fire, which was
burning close at hand, he lifted a blazing stick and applied it to the
weed, turning as he did so, and swiftly gazing round the Cossack lines.
A crowd of the horsemen were standing a few yards away, scowling heavily
at their prisoners and muttering amongst themselves.
"Ugh! a bigger set of blackguards I never see," Tony remarked calmly.
"`Git', as the Yankees say, is the word for us, Phil. It'll be safe
to-night with Vilnoff, but to-morrow, when he's gone, they'll pass on
their tale to the other coves who've got to look after us, and a
precious poor time of it well have."
At this moment Vilnoff returned, and, beckoning to his prisoners, led
them to where his blankets and saddle lay. The former were spread upon
the ground, and Phil and Tony sat down on them.
"The horse is fed and watered, and now we will look to ourselves," said
Vilnoff, with a friendly smile. "I have managed to get an extra
allowance of meat, and here is plenty of bread. Now we will have a fire
to ourselves;" and stepping across he quickly returned with a blazing
stake. Round this sticks from a bundle tied to his saddle were piled,
and soon a cheerful fire was burning. Over the blaze was placed an iron
tripod, from which a small kettle full of water was suspended, and into
this the meat was thrown, after having been cut into small pieces.
For an hour the three sat gazing at the blazing embers, while Phil and
Vilnoff discussed the prospects of the campaign. At last the stew was
ready. The Russian produced three tin plates and as many mugs, and soon
they were enjoying their meal. A small tot of vodka, diluted with
water, followed, and then, having smoked a last pipe, and being
thoroughly tired out, Phil and Tony lay full length on the rugs, while
Vilnoff, producing an enormous kaross of sheep-skin, spread it over
them, crawled beneath it himself, and with a guttural "Good-night,
Englishman!" placed his head on his saddle, and was quickly in the land
of dreams. As for Phil and Tony, they were worn out, and scarcely had
they turned over when they too were asleep, in blissful forgetfulness of
the stirring events of the day, and of the dead and dying, who lay not
ten miles away on the blood-stained slopes of the Alma.
The next morning the Cossack lines were early astir, and horses and men
were fully ready to set out when two officers came towards them, one
dressed as a Cossack, and leading his horse. The men were quickly drawn
up, and having explained that he was their new commander, the Cossack
officer turned to his companion and formally handed over the two
prisoners.
"There, comrade," he said, "take them and look well after them. I heat
they have already done harm enough, though, indeed, I cannot say much
against them, for Stackanoff was too harsh with the wounded prisoner,
and, besides, his dismissal has given me this command and a chance of
distinguishing myself, and having my name brought before our master the
Czar."
The infantry officer answered that he hoped the long-looked-for
opportunity would not take long in coming, and beckoning to four men who
had followed him, ordered them to march the prisoners off.
Phil and Tony shook hands heartily with Vilnoff, and the former thanked
him for his kindness.
"If ever we meet again, Vilnoff," he said, "perhaps we shall be able to
do as much for you, and in any case, when we get back to our friends, as
we mean to do, we shall tell them how good one of the Cossack horsemen
has been to us. Now, good-bye and good luck! I hope Stackanoff will do
you no harm, and that before long you will be seeking the girl you spoke
of near Moscow."
"Ah!" the Russian grunted, while a broad grin overspread his usually
grave features, "you give me hope, Englishman. Good-bye, and may the
blessed Virgin see you safely to your friends!"
Phil and Tony were surrounded at this moment by their infantry guard,
and marched smartly away to the rear of the camp. Here they were
ordered to enter a large shed adjoining a farmhouse, and this they found
was filled with other prisoners like themselves.
"Halloo, mates," voices sang out, "when were you taken? What's going to
happen to us?"
Phil hastily explained, and then suddenly seeing the wounded officer who
had borne the colour on the previous day, and who had been removed from
the Cossack lines a few minutes after the brutal Stackanoff's dismissal,
he walked over to him and asked him how he felt.
"Much better, thanks to you, Corporal," answered the young fellow. "The
doctor dressed my wound, and then got this mattress for me. After all,
it was only a flesh wound, and but for severe loss of blood I should
have been all right and the colour saved. It is sad to think that it
was captured."
"The colour is all right," answered Phil. "As I was dragged away I saw
that the Highlanders had rescued it."
"That's good news! Excellent news!" exclaimed the young officer in
tones of relief. "Look here, Corporal, my name is McNeil, and I am
sending in an account of our little affair. The doctor here has
promised to have it taken over to our lines under a flag of truce. What
is your name and your friend's? I am going to recommend you both for
distinguished gallantry."
Phil gave the required information, and after a few more words returned
to Tony flushed with happiness and pride that he and his friend had so
early won praise for their deeds.
Half an hour later four Russians entered, and, lifting the wounded
officer, carried him outside, and with great gentleness placed him in an
araba. The other prisoners were ordered to file out, and in a few
minutes they were marching, surrounded by guards, for the grim fortress
of Sebastopol. Phil and Tony longed to escape, for once behind the
stone walls of Sebastopol there would be little hope. But no
opportunity occurred, and by nightfall they, with their comrades, were
safely under lock and key, the officer having been taken to separate
quarters.