It was a wearisome time that Phil and his friend spent in prison.
Confined in a huge stone building, they passed the greater part of the
day in a court-yard open to the sky. Here they discussed with their
comrades every possible means of escape, but they could hit on no plan
that was likely to be successful. The windows were small and heavily
barred, sentries with loaded weapons stood all round the walls of the
court-yard, and at night occupied a room commanding the prison, being
separated from it by a wall perforated for rifle fire.
"Don't worry, Tony, old chap," said Phil one day, seeing that his friend
was becoming despondent. "Our chance will come yet, and we shall get
away. If we don't, the Allies may take the place by storm and set us
free. After all, we have little to complain of, for our quarters are
moderately comfortable, and our food, though plain, is plentiful."
"Right yer are, Phil! I'll cheer up," answered Tony brightly. "When I
comes to think of it, we ain't got much to grumble at. Think of them
poor chaps as had arms and legs blown off at the Alma--we're far better
off than they. But I expects this being caged up ain't for long, and
any day the army will be breaking in, as you say, and setting us free."
And indeed, had the prisoners but known it, the Allies were hard at work
preparing to take the fortress and town. To do so from the north was,
as has already been said, impossible, for the harbour was far too broad
to allow of an effective bombardment, and, moreover, its northern shore
was commanded by heavy batteries. Therefore, as we have seen, the
Allies marched to the Chersonese heights, the British left resting upon
Balaclava, while the French lay to our right. Opposite them was the
southern face of Sebastopol, up till then undefended by very formidable
works, though the plan of defences had long ago been sketched and
partially executed. But no sooner was the object of the allied army
discovered than hordes of Russians quickly transformed this side of the
fortress, throwing up powerful earthworks, and arming them with guns
drawn from the inexhaustible arsenals at the dockyard. And while they
slaved, the British and French planned their own earthworks, and set
fatigue-parties to work. By October 16th they were completed, and after
a council of war, in which naval as well as military officers took part,
it was decided that the bombardment should commence on the morrow, the
batteries on the Chersonese heights doing their utmost to reduce the
works in front of them, while the ships engaged the forts on the
sea-face to distract attention. The cannonade was to be followed by a
general assault.
A moment's reflection will show the reader that nothing could have been
wiser than a preliminary battering with cannon-shot, followed by an
assault; but how the ships could have aided in one or the other it is
difficult to understand. As the forts were placed on elevated plateaux,
and in some cases on the cliffs, an assault by means of landing-parties
was out of the question. Therefore the Russian commander would not, and
did not, trouble to garrison them with infantry, but merely assured
their having a sufficiency of gunners to replace possible casualties.
Then again, compared with a heavily-armed stone fort, what is a wooden
ship? It was a hopeless and a foolish undertaking, and it is not
surprising that the allied fleet retired, having done little damage,
although they had suffered severely themselves.
On shore things were perhaps a little more satisfactory. Three star
shells fired from Mount Rudolph, the French battery, gave the signal for
the bombardment at an early hour on October 17th, and from that moment
for four awful hours the Allies' combined 126 heavy guns poured a hail
of shell into the Russian defences. These consisted of outworks and of
various forts of formidable power known as the Flagstaff Bastion, the
Malakoff, and the Redan, the whole armed with 118 guns, not to mention a
thousand and more of lighter casting to be used in case of assault.
But for an untoward event Sebastopol might have fallen on that very day,
and the Crimea as a campaign have sunk into comparative historical
insignificance. After four hours' firing a shell unluckily struck the
magazine of Mount Rudolph, and with a roar which shook the surrounding
camp the battery was destroyed. The French fire at once ceased, and was
not renewed for two days. As for the British, they battered the
Malakoff, reducing the stone-work to ruin, and silenced its guns. Soon
afterwards the magazine of the Redan exploded, and though our fire still
continued furiously, it was answered only feebly and at intervals,
showing that the enemy too had suffered heavily like the French.
And now let us consider, before returning to Phil and his comrades, why
an assault was not delivered either at once, or on the following
morning. But for the calamity to the French this would have occurred;
owing, however, to the destruction of their chief battery, and the
consequent failure to destroy the defences in front of them, assault
became almost impracticable, while now that they were to some extent
demoralised, it was utterly hopeless. Also it must be borne in mind
that the force in Sebastopol was greatly superior in numbers to the
Allies, while an attack in rear by the Russian army in the field was
always to be dreaded, and, as will be seen, was not long in actually
occurring. As to an assault on the following day, dawn showed that it
was useless to attempt it, for the brave and energetic enemy had already
reconstructed the defences, and made good all the damage that had been
done.
Almost a whole month had passed from the date of their incarceration,
when one morning the prisoners in Sebastopol were awakened by a roar of
exploding artillery.
"What's that?" asked Phil, starting up suddenly and throwing off his
blanket. "Listen, you fellows! Yes, there it goes again. That banging
is the Russian artillery. Wait a minute and we shall hear our own at
work."
A moment later a distant, muttering growl told them that the Allies were
answering the fire, while, had there been any doubt, a peculiar shriek
overhead, which all had heard before, and the fall of a wall close at
hand, told them that a shell from the far-off guns had found a mark.
"Blow me!" exclaimed Tony excitedly. "Supposing one of them shells
found its way in here!"
"What, yer ain't afraid!" jeered a big rifleman who was amongst the
prisoners. "You 'as helped to save the colours, too!"
"Afraid! Booby! I'll punch yer head if yer don't mind what yer
saying," retorted Tony hotly. "It ain't that I was thinking of, but of
trying to get out of this. Supposing a hole got knocked in the wall,
couldn't we chaps climb through it, and shy bricks at the sentries.
Then we'd make a rush for it. You may bet all these Russian soldiers
are busy in the forts."
A grunt of assent went round the gathered prisoners, and far from being
nervous or anxious lest a shell should knock the house about their ears,
they sat there longing to hear the crash and make a dash for liberty.
That such an eventuality might occur had evidently struck the Russians,
for that night the doors of the prison were thrown open, and the
prisoners ordered out with their blankets. Then they were marched under
a strong guard to the harbour and ferried across.
"Where do we go?" Phil asked the soldier who sat in the boat by his
side.
"That you will see," was the gruff reply. "But you leave the Crimea at
once, and I do not envy you your long march. It is fine weather now,
but as you get north you will meet the rains and cold winds, and you
will wish yourself back in Sebastopol."
Arrived on the northern bank of the harbour, the prisoners were grouped
together, and a meal of hot coffee and bread given them. Then they set
out, two ranks of armed guards marching on either side, while some
twenty fierce-looking Cossacks hovered here and there, only too ready
and willing to transfix any man sufficiently foolhardy to attempt an
escape.
"This won't do," muttered Phil, whose wits had been at work. "It won't
do," he repeated almost unconsciously.
"What won't?" asked Tony brusquely. "It ain't over nice, I know, but I
can't see that anything's extra wrong."
"Where do you think we are marching to, Tony?" asked Phil. "You don't
know. Then I'll tell you. We are going due north, out of the Crimea
and into some part of the Russian interior. Once there, what chance
shall we have of ever getting back?"
"There you puzzle me, Phil," Tony answered, scratching his head. "I
suppose it's a long way off."
"Yes, a long way, Tony; but that is not the difficulty. The weather is
on the point of changing, and soon we shall have rain and snow. We must
get away within the next few days or not at all, so keep your eyes open
for the first chance that comes along."
"Trust me, mate," whispered Tony, unconsciously dropping his voice. "I
don't want to spend the next year or so in a Russian prison. A month's
been enough for me. But it'll be a job to get away from these fellows:
and what shall we do for food once we are free?"
"That we must chance, Tony. The main thing is to get safely away, and,
of course, we must make the attempt when it is dark. To-night our
guards, knowing we are close to the allied camp, will be extra watchful,
but a couple of nights later, when we are well on the way, and the
Russian field-army is between us and our friends, they are certain to
become slack and careless about keeping a watch. That will be our time,
and we must make the best of it. There are plenty of small farmhouses
scattered about this part of the Crimea, for it is famous for its
vineyards, and if the worst comes to the worst, we must break into one
and obtain food in that way. In any case there are grapes to be had in
abundance."
Having agreed that it was useless to attempt an escape for two days or
more, and that it was unnecessary to inform their comrades of their
intentions--for where two might chance to slip away, it was hopeless for
fifty or more to make the attempt,--Phil and Tony marched on stolidly.
Amongst the prisoners were Riflemen, Guards, and Highlanders, some
slightly wounded, and all more or less in a tattered and forlorn
condition, for head-gear had been for the most part lost, and the bright
red of tunics had long ago been dulled by lying on the dirt and mud.
That night they pressed on, and halted only when the field-army was
reached. Then they bivouacked and waited till the following day, when
the march was resumed in a leisurely manner, the guards, however, still
keeping careful watch over their prisoners, while the fierce and
restless Cossacks rode their shaggy ponies on either flank and kept a
scowling eye on the captives.
Phil and Tony saved some portion of their meal of bread daily, cramming
it into their pockets. But it was not till the third night that they
dared to attempt an escape.
"Keep an eye on those Cossack fellows as we bivouack, Tony," said Phil
in an undertone, as the column came to a halt. "They are the ones we
have most to fear. Up to this, I notice that half of them have nightly
gone out as pickets, ready to cut off any escape, while the others have
camped alongside us. If only we can see the positions the outposts take
up, and get away from here without rousing an alarm, we ought to be able
to hide up in some vineyard."
Lying down on the ground, as if tired out, the two watched eagerly, and
carefully noted the position of the Cossacks. Riding some three hundred
yards from their comrades, each of these wiry horsemen leapt from his
pony, removed the bit and slipped it under its jaw, and left it there
with the reins on the neck, so that in a few moments it could be
replaced. Girths were then loosened, and while the animal cropped the
grass its watchful master trudged backwards and forwards, lance in hand,
and with his face always turned towards the distant camp.
"Sebastopol lies over there," said Phil, nodding in the direction they
had come, "and we must make a bolt for it some other way. The outposts
are certain to be more vigilant behind us. Look at that fellow over
there on our right. I have had my eye on him these last two days; he is
evidently lazy and careless of his duties, especially now that no
Cossack officer is with the horsemen guarding us."
Tony glanced in the direction indicated, and noted that the man Phil had
called his attention to was standing by his pony's side, with one elbow
resting on the saddle, and his head on his hand, as if already asleep.
"Yes, that's the beggar for us, Phil," he whispered. "If we crawl over
there we ought to be able to slip by him unawares. To-night will be
fairly light--just sufficient for us to spot him at twenty yards,--and
once we know where he is, it won't be much of a job to slip between him
and the next."
At dusk a meal was served, and having eaten their portion, Phil and Tony
threw themselves down upon a blanket, and spread the second over them,
for the nights were already chilly, and they had discovered that with
only one blanket apiece greater warmth and comfort could be obtained in
this way.
"It won't do to fall asleep now," whispered Phil. "We have had a tiring
uphill march, and are both in need of a snooze and inclined to take it.
Let us talk about something interesting, so as to keep awake."
Tony yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes.
"I was precious near off then," he answered. "Tell yer what, Phil,
teach me a few words of this Russian lingo. That'll wake me up."
Accordingly Phil commenced with the simpler words, and when Tony had
heard and repeated as many as he was likely to remember, they commenced
to chat about their life in the menagerie, taking care only to whisper,
and keeping a vigilant watch upon the sentries close at hand.
"We must clear out of this about an hour before midnight," whispered
Phil. "The sentries are changed at twelve o'clock, and the Cossack
outposts too. If we wait till then they are all sure to be wide-awake
in expectation of relief, and after midnight there will be little chance
of slipping past the fresh ones. As it is, I see it will be a far more
difficult job than we had imagined."
"That's so," grunted Tony, staring at the nearest sentry. "In course if
we could get alongside that feller we could double him up like a rag
before he'd got time to shout, and I doubt that the ones on either side
can see him. But I fear it would be a failure. We'd never be able to
get close enough to smash him before he pulled his trigger."
"I have it, Tony," whispered Phil after a few minutes' silence, during
which he cudgelled his brains for a means of escape. "We should never
get away together, for where one might slip through two would be certain
to be discovered. Fortunately many of our comrades are still moving
about or sitting up talking, so that my little scheme has a chance of
working. Tony, we must have a row and separate."
"Have a row, Phil? That we don't, while I can help it!" exclaimed Tony
hotly.
"Not a real one, Tony," answered Phil, with a smothered laugh. "We must
pretend. Listen. It now wants two hours before we must make our
attempt, and we must do our best to judge that time pretty nearly. No
doubt the sentry has noticed that we have been lying quietly as if
asleep, for he has passed close by us several times. Let us peep out,
and wait till he is near again, then you must roll over and pull the
blanket from me as if in your sleep. The movement is certain to attract
his attention. I will then start up and tear the blanket away from you,
and after that we can easily come to words and almost to blows. No
doubt the sentry will watch us and enjoy our quarrel, and as soon as we
have made sufficient noise, I will get up in a regular huff, pull my
blanket from you, and go to the other end of the camp. Two hours later
I shall do my best to creep between the sentries, and once through I
will imitate the whinny of a horse. The men on guard will think it
comes from one of the Cossack ponies, and are not likely to stir, while
you, knowing it is my signal, will take the first chance of slipping
through and joining me."
A suppressed chuckle burst from Tony's lips, and the blanket shook as he
attempted to smother his amusement and delight.
"Phil, you're a good 'un," he stuttered. "Yer fairly walk away with it.
Blest if yer ain't the smartest chap I ever see! There ain't nothing
more to be said. It's bound to work is that there scheme, so the sooner
we has that row the better. But--look here, old man, how do we join one
another out there in the dark?"
"That I was just going to mention, Tony. Once through, crawl on for a
hundred yards, and then sit down. You must take care to go straight to
your front. I am going to lie down over there on the right, and I shall
know you are on the left. I shall give you a quarter of an hour to get
through, and then I shall crawl over in your direction. If after a good
search I fail to find you I will give another whinny, and you must crawl
up to me. Now is everything clear?"
"Everything, mate," answered Tony, with evident delight. "We just plays
this little game, and then I waits for the signal. Once through, there
comes that Cossack chap, and if he so much as flickers an eyelid, bust
me if I don't smash him like an egg. Now, mate, give us yer flipper,
cos, yer know, things might go wrong, and I specks those Russian coves
have a nasty way of shooting if they spots a fellow giving them the
slip."
Phil stretched out his hand, and meeting Tony's, gave it a cordial grip.
Then for some ten minutes the two lay still, Tony snoring heavily,
while the sentry passed them twice on his beat, humming a tune as he did
so. Close at hand were the other prisoners, some asleep, while others
sat up round a fire smoking a last pipe.
"Now, here goes," whispered Tony, and with a loud snort he rolled over
on his opposite side, clutching the blanket and dragging it from Phil.
The action was beautifully timed, for the sentry was just opposite them
and within a few paces, and halted to see what would happen.
Phil awoke suddenly, sat up, and shivered. Then he felt for the blanket
as if expecting to find it over his knees, but failing to hit upon it he
looked at his sleeping comrade, and instantly, and with an exclamation
of wrath, seized the blanket and dragged it away.
"Here, what are yer up to?" growled Tony hoarsely, sitting up and
grabbing at the blanket. "Want it all yerself, yer greedy beggar? Let
go, will yer?" They struggled together, while their anger apparently
rose till they were on the point of blows.
"Whose blanket is it then?" cried Phil angrily. "It's mine, and I mean
to have it. There's yours; you're lying on it. Stick to it, and I'll
stick to mine; but not here. I've had enough of you. Every night it's
the same. I'm getting worn out for want of sleep."
"Hurrah! here's them two bosom friends a-fighting," laughed a linesman
who formed one of the number round the fire. "Have it out, boys. We're
getting stale for want of a little fun, and now's just the time for a
fight."
Phil and Tony took no notice of this encouragement, but, tearing the
blanket angrily from his friend, Phil trudged away with it to the other
end of the sleeping line, leaving the sentry, who had watched the whole
scene, doubled up with laughter, which was loudly echoed by the men
sitting round the fire.
"Stop that noise," came a harsh voice at this moment from the tent
occupied by the officer in charge of the party; and instantly the sentry
commenced to tramp his beat, while the prisoners rose and went to their
hard and uncomfortable couches.
Phil chose a spot between two sleeping figures on the right, and,
throwing himself down, apparently fell into a deep sleep. But part of
his face was uncovered, and his eyes were fixed in the direction of the
sentry, whose figure was now indistinguishable in the darkness. A weary
hour and a half dragged by, and then he prepared to make the attempt.
Leaving his blanket, he crept on all-fours through the grass, and within
five minutes was safely through the sentries, where, having put a
sufficient distance between them and himself he sat down and indulged in
a whinny--a curious collection of sounds which every school-boy is an
adept at, having, no doubt, times out of number, tried the nerves of
some irascible master by repeating them from the remote and unobserved
depths of his class-room, together with cat-calls and other
pleasantries. Half an hour later Phil and Tony had met, and were
crawling away towards the Cossack outposts. Stealing through the long
grass, and avoiding stones and small patches of corn which were spread
thereabouts, they were soon near the post occupied by the horsemen.
"We'll get alongside that wall," whispered Phil, pulling Tony's sleeve
in the direction he meant. "It is not a long one, and by crawling to
the end and squeezing against it, we ought to be able to see our
gentleman without ourselves being observed."
Accordingly they crept to the wall, which surrounded a potato field, and
advancing cautiously were soon at the corner, where, lying side by side,
they searched the darkness for the Cossack horseman.
"Can't see him anywhere," muttered Phil in an undertone.
"Here, what's that?" asked Tony excitedly, pointing in front of him.
Before Phil had time to answer, there was a hoarse cry of astonishment,
and a figure which had been leaning upon the wall just round the corner
started out, and, lowering a lance, rushed at them. The weapon struck
the ground between them, narrowly missing Phil's arm. Next moment Tony
had sprung at the Cossack with a low cry, and had felled him to the
ground with a powerful blow from his fist.
"Didn't I say I'd do for yer if yer winked yer blessed eye?" he said
breathlessly. "Move again and I'll stick yer through with the lance."
But even if the Russian had been able to understand, he was not in the
condition which would allow him to prove offensive, for the fist had
crashed like a sledge-hammer into his face, and he now lay motionless
and stunned upon the ground. Phil picked up the lance, and while they
lay still, in case the slight noise should have aroused the next outpost
he produced his knife and commenced to cut it in half. It was soon
done, and, keeping the head armed with the spear-point, he handed the
other to Tony, and they once more rose to their knees and crept
stealthily away into the darkness. Ten minutes later they were walking
briskly in the direction of Sebastopol.