THE BELOOCHEE
The pursuit was fast and furious. After crossing such a river as the
Danube, in the teeth of a far superior force and under a heavy
fire--after carrying the Russian redoubts with the bayonet, and driving
their main body back upon its reserve, the Turkish troops, flushed and
wild with victory, were not to be stopped by any soldiers on earth.
Iskender's charge had completely scattered the devoted body that had so
gallantly interposed to cover the retreat of their comrades, and a total
rout of the Russian forces was the result. The plains of Wallachia were
literally strewed with dismounted guns, broken ambulance wagons,
tumbrils, ammunition carts, dead and dying, whilst still the fierce
Moslem urged his hot pursuit. Straggler after straggler, reeking with
haste and all agape with fear, reached the astonished town of Bucharest,
and the reports in that pleasure-seeking capital were, as may well be
imagined, of the most bewildering and contradictory description.
Many a frightful scene was witnessed by the terrified Wallachian
peasant, as fugitive after fugitive was overtaken, struck down and
butchered by the dread pursuers. Nay, women and children were not
spared in the general slaughter; and the hideous practice of refusing
"quarter," which has so long existed between the Turkish and Russian
armies, now bore ghastly fruit.
A horse falls exhausted in a cart which contains some Russian wounded,
and a woman belonging to their regiment. Its comrade vainly struggles
to draw them through the slough in which they are fast. Half-a-dozen
Turkish troopers are on their track, urging those game little horses to
their speed, and escape is hopeless.
Helpless and mutilated, the poor fellows abandon themselves to their
fate. The Turks ride in and make short work of them, the Muscov dying
with a stolid grim apathy peculiar to himself and his natural foe. The
woman alone shows energy and quickness in her efforts to preserve her
child. She covers the baby over with the straw at the bottom of the
cart; wounded as she is in the confusion, and with an arm broken, she
seeks to divert the attention of her ruthless captors. Satisfied with
their butchery, they are about to ride on in search of fresh victims,
and the mother's heart leaps to think that she has saved her darling.
But the baby cries in its comfortless nest; quick as thought, a Turkish
trooper buries his lance amongst the straw, and withdraws the steel head
and gaudy pennon, reeking with innocent blood. The mother's shriek
flies straight to Heaven. Shall the curse she invokes on that ruthless
brute fall back unheard? Ride on, man of blood--ride on, to burn and
ravage and slay; and when the charge hath swept over thee, and the field
is lost, and thou art gasping out thy life-blood on the plain, think of
that murdered child, and die like a dog in thy despair!
By a route nearly parallel with the line of flight, but wandering
through an unfrequented district with which the Cossacks seem well
acquainted, the Beloochee and myself proceed towards our captivity. We
have ample leisure to examine our guards, these far-famed Cossacks of
whom warriors hear so much and see so little--the best scouts and
foragers known, hardy, rapid, and enduring, the very eyes and ears of an
army, and for every purpose except fighting unrivalled by any light
cavalry in the world. My original captor, who still clings to me with a
most unwelcome fondness, is no bad specimen of his class. He is mounted
on a shaggy pony, that at first sight seems completely buried even under
the middle-sized man it carries, but with a lean, good head, and wiry
limbs that denote speed and endurance, when put to the test. In a
snaffle bridle, and with its head up, the little animal goes with a
jerking, springing motion, not the least impaired by its day's work, and
the fact that it has now been without food for nearly twenty-four hours.
Its master, the same who keeps his small bright eye so constantly
fastened upon his prisoners, is a man of middle height, spare, strong,
and sinewy, with a bushy red beard and huge moustache. His dress
consists of enormously loose trousers, a tight-fitting jacket, and high
leathern shako; and he sits with his knees up to his chin. His arms are
a short sabre, very blunt, and useless, and a long lance, with which he
delights to do effective service against a fallen foe. He has placed
the Beloochee between himself and me; it seems that he somewhat
mistrusts my companion, but considers myself, a wounded man on one of
their own horses, safe from any attempt at escape. The Beloochee,
notwithstanding that every word calls down a thwack upon his pate
(wounded as it is by the sabre-cut which stunned him) from the shaft of
a lance, hazards an observation, every now and then, in Turkish. It is
satisfactory to find that our guardians are totally ignorant of that
language. I remark, too, that Ali listens anxiously at every halt, and
apparently satisfied with what he hears, though I for my own part can
discern nothing, walks on in a cheerful frame of mind, which I attribute
entirely to the Moslem stoicism. His conversation towards dusk consists
entirely of curses upon his captors; and these worthies, judging of its
tenor by the sound, and sympathising doubtless with the relief thus
afforded, cease to belabour him for his remarks.
At nightfall the rain came on again as in the morning; and at length it
grew pitch dark, just as we entered a defile, on one side of which was a
steep bank covered with short brushwood, and on the other a wood of
young oaks nearly impenetrable.
I felt the Beloochee's wrist press mine with an energy that must mean
something.
"Are you in pain?" he whispered in Turkish, adding a loud and voluble
curse upon the Giaour, much out of unison with his British character,
but which was doubtless mistaken for a round English oath.
"Not much," I replied in the same language; "but sick and faint at
times."
"Can you roll off your horse, and down the bank on your left?" he added,
hurriedly. "If you can, I can save you."
"Save yourself," I replied; "how can I move a step with a ball in my
ankle-bone?"
"Silence!" interposed the Cossack, with a bang over the Beloochee's
shoulders.
"Both or none," whispered the latter after a few seconds' interval, "do
exactly as I tell you."
"Agreed," I replied, and waited anxiously for the result.
Our Cossack was getting wet through. To his hardy frame such a soaking
could scarcely be called an inconvenience; nevertheless, it created a
longing for a pipe, and the tobacco-bag he had taken from Ali was
fortunately not half emptied. As he stopped to fill and light his short
silver-mounted meerschaum, the spoil of some fallen foe, the troopers in
our rear passed on. We were left some ten paces behind the rest, and
the night was as dark as pitch.
Ali handed me a small knife: he had concealed that and one other tiny
weapon in the folds of his sash when they searched him on the field of
battle. I knew what he meant, and cut the cord that bound our wrists
together; his other hand, meanwhile, to lull suspicion, caressed the
Cossack's horse. That incautious individual blew upon his match, which
refused to strike a good light.
In a twinkling Ali's shawl was unwound from his body and thrown
apparently over the Cossack's saddle-bow. The smothered report of a
pocket-pistol smote on my ear, but the sound could not penetrate through
those close Cashmere folds to the party in front, and they rode
unconsciously forward. The Beloochee's hand, too, was on his
adversary's throat; and one or two gasps, as they rolled together to the
ground, made me doubt whether he had been slain by the ball from that
little though effective weapon, or choked in the nervous gripe of the
Asiatic.
I had fortunately presence of mind to restrain my own horse, and catch
the Cossack's by the bridle; the party in front still rode on.
Ali rose from the ground. "The knife," he whispered hoarsely, "the
knife!"
Once, twice, he passed it through that prostrate body. "Throw yourself
off," he exclaimed; "let the horses go. Roll down that bank, and we are
saved!"
I obeyed him with the energy of a man who knows he has but _one_ chance.
I scarcely felt the pain as I rolled down amongst the brushwood. I
landed in a water-course full of pebbles, but the underwood had served
to break my fall; and though sorely bruised and with a broken ankle, I
was still alive. The Beloochee, agile as a cat, was by my side.
"Listen," said he; "they are riding back to look for us. No horse on
earth but _one_ can creep down that precipice; lie still. If the moon
does not come out, we are saved."
Moments of dreadful suspense followed. We could hear the Cossacks
shouting to each other above, and their savage yell when they discovered
their slain comrade smote wildly on our ears. Again I urged the
Beloochee to fly--why should he wait to die with me? I could scarcely
scrawl, and a cold sickness came on at intervals that unnerved me
totally.
To all my entreaties he made but one reply, "Bakaloum" (We shall see),
"it is our destiny. There is but one Allah!"
The Cossacks' shouts became fainter and fainter. They seemed to have
divided in search of their late prey. The moon, too, struggled out
fitfully. It was a wild scene.
The Beloochee whistled--a low, peculiar whistle, like the cry of a
night-hawk. He listened attentively; again he repeated that prolonged,
wailing note. A faint neigh answered it from the darkness, and we heard
the tread of a horse's hoofs approaching at a trot.
"It is Zuleika," he observed, quietly; "there is but one Allah!"
A loose horse, with saddle and bridle, trotted up to my companion, and
laid its head against his bosom. Stern as he was, he caressed it as a
mother fondles a child. It was his famous bay mare, "the treasure of his
heart," "the corner of his liver,"--for by such endearing epithets he
addressed her,--and now he felt indeed that he was saved.
"Mount," he said, "in the name of the Prophet. I know exactly where we
are. Zuleika has the wings of the wind; she laughs to scorn the heavy
steeds of the Giaour; they swallow the dust thrown up by her hoofs, and
Zuleika bounds from them like the gazelle. Oh, _jhanum_!--oh, my soul!"
Once more he caressed her, and the mare seemed well worthy of his
affection; she returned it by rubbing her head against him with a low
neigh.
I was soon in the saddle, with the Beloochee walking by my side. His
iron frame seemed to acknowledge no fatigue. Once I suggested that the
mare should carry double, and hazarded an opinion that by reducing the
pace we might fairly increase the burden. The remark well-nigh cost me
the loss of my preserver's friendship.
"Zuleika," he exclaimed, with cold dignity, "Zuleika requires no such
consideration. She is not like the gross horse of the Frank, who sinks
and snorts, and struggles and fails, under his heavy burden. She would
step lightly as a deer under three such men as we are. No, light of my
eyes," he added, smoothing down the thin silky mane of his favourite, "I
will walk by thee and caress thee, and feast my eyes on thy star-like
beauty. Should the Giaour be on our track, I will mount thee with the
Tergyman, and we will show him the mettle of a real daughter of the
desert--my rose, my precious one!"
She was, indeed, a high-bred-looking animal, although from her great
strength in small compass she appeared less speedy than she really was.
Her colour was a rich dark bay, without a single white hair. Her crest
was high and firm as that of a horse; and her lean, long head and
expressive countenance showed the ancestry by which her doting master
set such store. Though the skin that covered those iron muscles so
loosely was soft and supple as satin, she carried no flesh, and her deep
ribs might almost be counted by the eye. Long in her quarters, with
legs of iron and immense power in her back and loins, she walked with an
elastic, springy gait, such as even my own Injour could not have
emulated. She was of the highest breed in the desert, and as superior
to other horses as the deer is to the donkey. I wondered how my friend
had obtained possession of her; and as we plodded on, the Beloochee, who
had recovered his good-humour, walking by my side, condescended to
inform me of the process by which the invaluable Zuleika had become his
own.
"Tergyman!" said he, "I have journeyed through many lands, and with the
exception of your country--the island of storms and snows--I have seen
the whole world.[#] In my own land the mountains are high and rugged,
the winters cold and boisterous; it rears _men_ brave and powerful as
_Rustam_, but we must look elsewhere for _horses_. Zuleika, you
perceive, is from the desert: 'The nearer the sun, the nobler the
steed.' She was bred in the tent of a scheik, and as a foal she carried
on her back only such children as had a chief's blood in their veins."
[#] This is a common idea amongst Orientals when they have done Mecca
and seen a greater part of Asia Minor.
"From my youth up I have been a man of war, Effendi, and the word of
command has been more familiar to my lips than the blessed maxims of the
Prophet; but the time will come when I too shall be obliged to cross the
narrow bridge that spans the abyss of hell. And if my naked feet have
no better protection from its red-hot surface than deeds of arms and
blood-stained victories, woe to me for ever! I shall assuredly fall
headlong into the depths of fire.
"Therefore I bethought me of a pilgrimage to Mecca, for he is indeed a
true believer who has seen with his own eyes the shrine of the Blessed
Prophet. Many and long were the days I passed under the burning sun of
the desert; wearisome and slow was the march of the caravan. My jaded
camel was without water. I said in my soul, 'It is my destiny to die.'
Far behind the long array, almost out of hearing of their bells, my
beast dragged his weary steps. I quitted his back and led him till he
fell. No sooner was he down than the vultures gathered screaming around
him, though not a speck had I seen for hours in the burning sky. Then I
beheld a small cloud far off on the horizon; it was but of the size of
one of these herdsmen's cottages, but black as the raven, and it
advanced more rapidly than a body of horsemen. Ere I looked again it
seemed to reach the heavens, the skies became dark as night, columns of
sand whirled around me, and I knew the simoom was upon us and it was
time to die.
"How long I lay there I know not. When I recovered my consciousness,
the caravan had disappeared, my camel was already stripped to the bones
by the birds of prey, my mouth and nostrils were full of sand. Nearly
suffocated, faint and helpless, it was some time ere I was aware of an
Arab horseman standing over me, and looking on my pitiable condition
with an air of kindness and protection.
"'My brother,' he said, 'Allah has delivered thee into my hand. Mount,
and go with me.'
"He gave me water from a skin, he put me on his own horse till we were
joined by his tribe; I went with him to his tents, and I became to him
as a brother, for he had saved me at my need.
"He was a scheik of the wild Bedouins: a better warrior never drew a
sword. Rich was he too, and powerful; but of all his wives and
children, camels, horses, and riches, he had two treasures that he
valued higher than the pearl of Solomon--his bay mare and his daughter
Zuleika."
The Beloochee's voice trembled, and he paused. For a few seconds he
listened as if to satisfy himself that the enemy were not on our track,
and then nerving himself like a man about to suffer pain, and looking
far into the darkness, he proceeded--
"I saw her day after day in her father's tent. Soon I longed for her
light step and gentle voice as we long for the evening breeze after the
glare and heat of the day. At last I watched her dark eyes as we watch
the guiding star by night in the desert. To the scheik I was as a
brother. I was free to come and go in his tent, and all his goods were
mine. Effendi! I am but a man, and I loved the girl. In less than a
year I had become a warrior of their tribe; many a foray had I ridden
with them, and many a herd of camels and drove of horses had I helped
them to obtain. Once I saved the scheik's life with the very sword I
lost to-day. Could they not have given me the girl? Oh! it was bitter
to see her every hour, and to know she was promised to another!
"A few days more and she was to be espoused to Achmet. He was the
scheik's kinsman, and she had been betrothed to him from a child. I
could bear it no longer. The maiden looked at me with her dark eyes
full of tears. I had eaten the scheik's salt--he had saved me from a
lingering death--he was my host, my friend, my benefactor, and I robbed
him of his daughter. We fled in the night. I owned a horse that could
outstrip every steed in the tribe save one. I took a leathern skin of
water, a few handfuls of barley, and my arms. I placed Zuleika on the
saddle in front of me, and at daybreak we were alone in the desert, she
and I, and we were happy. When the sun had been up an hour, there was a
speck in the horizon behind us. I told Zuleika we were pursued; but she
bid me take courage, for my steed was the best in the tribe, said she,
except her father's bay mare, and he suffered no one to mount that
treasure but himself. She had loosed the bay mare the night before from
her picket-ropes; it would be morning before they could find her, and
there was nothing to fear. I took comfort, and pressed my bride to my
heart.
"In the desert, Effendi, it is not as with us. The Arab's life depends
upon his horse, and he proves him as you would prove a blade. At two
years old he rides him till his back bends,[#] and he never forgets the
merits of the colt. Each horse's speed is as well known in the tribe as
is each officer's rank in the army of the Padisha. Nothing could
overtake my charger save the scheik's bay mare; and, thanks to Zuleika,
the bay mare must be hours behind us."
[#] An Arab maxim, from which they are studious not to depart; their
idea being that a horse's worst year is from three to four; during which
period they let him run perfectly idle, but feeding him at the same time
as if in full work: for, say they, "a horse's goodness goes in at his
mouth." At five he is considered mature.
"We galloped steadily on, and once more I looked over my shoulder. The
speck had become larger and darker now, and I caught the gleam of a
lance in the morning sun. Our pursuer must be nearing us; my horse too
began to flag, for I had ridden fiercely, and he carried myself and my
bride. Nevertheless, we galloped steadily on.
"Once more I looked back. The object was distinct enough now; it was a
horseman going at speed. Allah be praised! there was but one. Zuleika
turned pale and trembled--my lily seemed to fade on my bosom. Effendi,
I had resolved what to do."