A FORLORN HOPE
I left the window and hurried down to tell the Princess the bad news.
Spernow was still there, sitting apart, exchanging love confidences
with Mademoiselle Broumoff, and they all started up at my sudden
entrance.
“The troops have found us out, Princess, and there will probably be
some trouble before we get rid of them and shake them off. I wish to
impress upon you the necessity for you to remain close in the corners
of the room for fear of mishap. Spernow, will you go to Captain
Zoiloff? He is below with the men.”
The Princess took the news very calmly.
“Do you think they will attack the house?” she asked.
“I fear so--or, rather, I hope so; for, if not, we shall have to attack
them, and I would rather act on the defensive.”
“There will be danger for you,” she said earnestly, looking into my
eyes. “You will be careful--for my sake;” and she laid her hand on mine.
“I hope it will not be serious, and I will be careful,” I replied
smiling. “But we must not be beaten.”
“I trust no blood will be shed--no lives sacrificed. I cannot bear the
thought of that.”
“We can have no thought but your safety.”
“But can we not be of some use--Nathalie and I?”
“I fear not, at present. But if there is need, depend upon it I will
not fail to ask you. Come, Spernow.”
“Michel, let me have a gun. I would rather be by your side than cooped
up here in suspense,” cried the girl with great spirit, holding her
lover’s hand. “Now that you are with us I am not afraid.”
“We have not come to that yet, Mademoiselle,” I said, liking her spirit
and courage. “You need not be afraid. We are quite strong enough behind
these walls to cope with the few men against us. But we must go.”
Christina pressed my hand again, and her lips murmured a prayer for my
safety.
Zoiloff had been busy enough with his preparations, and when we reached
him had posted his men. He had done a shrewd trick on leaving General
Kolfort’s house, and had brought away with him the men’s carbines with
a quantity of ammunition. These were now distributed in the rooms
from which the work of defence was to be carried on; and he explained
that his object was to create the impression that we were a much more
numerous party than in reality.
“We can fire volleys from the different windows in very rapid
succession, and they’ll think the place is alive with men,” he said.
“But the main work must be done from the windows of each room on the
floor above us. There are two in the front room and one at the back,
and we can from there command the approach to the front and back doors,
and could hold the place against four times the number.”
We went to the front room and looked out.
The soldiers were taking matters very leisurely. Evidently they were
confident that they would have no serious difficulty in carrying the
house, even if we were inside, of which they still seemed to have
doubts.
The leader was only a non-commissioned officer--a troop sergeant--and
he appeared to be at a loss what to do. He was consulting with the two
men who had ridden up first, and all three were gesticulating freely as
they pointed to different parts of the house and yard.
The longer they debated, and the more time they wasted, the better
for us. If they would only let the afternoon steal away and twilight
come, we could in the last resource make a sally, have a brush at close
quarters, and then trust to our horses to save us.
“Zoiloff, I have a plan,” I said, as an idea struck me. “That man has
made a fool’s mistake. Every horse there is in full view, and can be
picked off easily. Let our first volleys, when it comes to firing, be
for the horses. Before the men even guess our intention, every horse
will be killed or disabled, and not only will the men be unable to
follow us, but prevented from riding for help.”
“Good!” he cried. “We’ll have every man at these two windows, and each
man shall pick out his own target. A couple of rounds well aimed and
the thing’s done. But someone must keep a lookout at the back.”
“Nathalie will do that,” said Spernow eagerly; and he went at once to
ask her, while the men were brought into the room and their orders
given to them. We waited, watching closely for the commencement of
hostilities.
“They don’t like the look of things,” whispered Zoiloff, smiling
grimly, “and don’t know what to do or how to start. Ah, now they’ve
settled something,” he added as the leader came towards the house,
knocked at the door, and called in a loud voice for it to be opened.
No answer was given, of course, and after he had repeated his summons
he called:
“If the door is not opened we shall break it in.”
Getting no reply, he returned to his men, and sent four of them round
to the back of the house. Then one of the men called his attention to
something at the side of the yard, and eight of them went and picked up
a heavy balk of timber lying there.
“They’re going to use it as a battering-ram,” said Zoiloff. “We must
stop that.”
“Wait,” I said quickly. “When they are in position I’ll warn them,
and through the open windows we can then shoot the horses. Remember,
men, level your guns first at the men, and when I tell you, aim at the
horses, and shoot straight.”
The timber was heavy, the afternoon hot, the men fatigued and with no
great zest for the business, so that they took a long time before they
had brought it round near the door.
Then I threw up the window sharply, and called, in a ringing voice:
“Stop! We sha’n’t allow that.”
Looking up, the troopers found themselves covered by the guns of our
party, and, dropping the timber, they rushed like hares for cover--all
save the leader, who flung curses at them for their cowardice.
“Now fire,” I said; and, levelling my rifle, I picked out a horse, and
we fired our first volley.
“Quick! again!” and a second volley rang out.
The effect was indescribable. Five horses fell at the first round, and
the rest stampeded and plunged so violently that any accurate aim the
second time was very difficult. Only three fell, but the rest broke
from their fastenings in a very frenzy of fear and galloped wildly off,
plunging across country at a speed that made any thought of pursuit
hopeless.
The men started to follow them, but were recalled by the leader, and
came slinking back to cover like whipped dogs.
The loss of the horses was not their only misfortune, however, for in
getting the log they had set down their carbines near the gate in a
spot which we could cover with our guns. Seeing this, I called again:
“The man who touches one of those guns will be shot!”
The sergeant had plenty of pluck, and, though sorely perplexed by the
turn things had thus suddenly taken, was as cool as if he had been on
parade.
“What do you want here?” I cried.
“I want to know who’s in the house,” he said.
“I am. What next?”
“Who else?”
“I decline to say.”
“Will you surrender without causing any more trouble?” he asked coolly.
“If you ask that again, you’ll stand a good chance of asking no more
questions in this world,” said I drily. “You had better draw off your
men while they are still unhurt.”
“You can’t hope to beat us off,” he said doggedly.
“We can try.” At the reply he shrugged his shoulders.
“If you resist you must take the consequences,” he called.
“I am quite prepared for that.”
He turned away then as if to walk back to his men, but I saw him
start; and then he did a really plucky thing, like the daring devil he
evidently was. When he was half-way towards his men he made a quick
rush to the guns and tried to snatch them up in his arms and bolt
with them to cover. It was wasted courage. A couple of guns rang out,
Zoiloff’s for one, and the man rolled over with a groan, shot through
the leg, with the carbines scattered round him.
His men made no effort to go near him, and so long an interval of
inaction followed that I began to hope the struggle was already over
before it had well begun.
“Lucky we shot those horses, or we should have had half the scoundrels
bolting for reinforcements,” muttered Zoiloff.
“You’d better see what the men at the back are after,” I said; and even
as I spoke the little Broumoff came running excitedly to tell us they
were trying to get our horses from the shed behind.
Zoiloff hurried out with a couple of men, and a moment later I heard an
exchange of shots.
“Run and see what has happened, Spernow, and let me know,” I said,
and in a couple of minutes he returned to say all was well, and that
Zoiloff had wounded one of the men and scared them off. They had made
for the side of the house, he told me, and had been joined by the rest
of the troopers; unfortunately there was no window at the side, so that
we could neither watch nor threaten them.
Another long interval passed without the troopers making a sign of any
kind, and I judged that their intention was simply to keep watch until
reinforcements could come up, and guessed that they had sent one or
more of the men away on foot in search of help.
It was now past six o’clock, and in less than half an hour it would be
safe to make a start. I went to Zoiloff to consult.
My plan was to make a rush upon the men and drive them away
sufficiently far to admit of our horses being put in the cart, and then
risk the chances of flight. He agreed readily, for the inaction was
vastly less to his mind than any fighting, and we made our preparations
accordingly.
“We are seven to their nine or ten, say. The leader lies there wounded,
you have disabled a second man, and they have sent away probably two
and certainly one; and as we are armed and they are not, and we shall
catch them unawares, we can certainly beat them off. We must then get
the horses ready and be off. The sun’s low now, and, as there is a mist
rising, it will be dark enough for our purposes long before seven. And,
anyway, we can’t wait here to be trapped like rabbits as soon as they
succeed in bringing up reinforcements.”
We set to work at once. The barricade of the back door was removed
quietly and we all mustered by it in silence.
“Silence till we are outside,” I whispered. “Then with a rush fall on
them with more noise than force, and scare and drive them off.”
I lifted the latch noiselessly and, opening the door, stepped out,
followed by the rest. Then with a loud shout we rushed round the house
and caught the men as they stood smoking and talking, expecting nothing
less than an attack from us.
They fled like chaff, helter-skelter in all directions, not venturing
even a pretence at resistance. The two or three who had guns attempted
to fire, but we struck up their arms and they fled as incontinently as
the rest.
We made a show of pursuit, but it was no more than a show, and then all
hands turned to the work of getting the horses harnessed and saddled.
Meanwhile the mist was rising fast, and promised to form a welcome veil
to our flight.
As a precaution I told one of our men to ride some distance along the
lane to see that the road was clear, although I had no doubt that the
troopers had been effectively disposed of; and I went to fetch the
Princess and Mademoiselle Broumoff. All was ready and we were in good
heart, when the man I had sent out came scampering back with news that
filled me with sudden consternation.
He had seen a large body of horse-soldiers at the end of the lane on
the high road, and with them were several of the men we had just beaten
off.
I heard the news with genuine anguish of soul. We were hemmed in.
The absence of any outlet except by the lane made escape absolutely
hopeless, and for a moment I was borne down with despair.
“We can only make a forlorn hope of it,” said Zoiloff. “Charge them and
try to make off in the confusion.”
I bit my lip and racked my brains in the effort to find some other
than this useless, desperate scheme, and then suddenly a light beamed
through the darkness.
“Markov, can you find your way across the fields at the back here to
the road--on horseback I mean?”
“Yes, certainly, your Honour, but with the cart----”
“Zoiloff, good friend, we must part now. There is only one way. You
and Markov must ride with the Princess on horseback, escaping by the
back across the fields till you strike the road. I must go in the cart
with Mademoiselle Broumoff, if she is brave enough to risk this for the
Princess;” and I looked at her eagerly.
“I will do anything,” she assented readily.
“It will make them think that only we six were in the house here; that
Mademoiselle Broumoff is the Princess, and that we are making the rush
to escape after the fight just now.”
“I cannot consent to that,” said Christina earnestly. “You will be
going to certain capture.”
I drew her aside from the rest to urge her, and Zoiloff, understanding
things with the quick instinct of a friend, led them out of the room on
the plea of hastening the preparations.
As soon as we were alone she threw off all reserve, putting her hands
on my shoulders and gazing at me with glowing eyes.
“Do you press me to do this?” she pleaded.
“I must; it is your only hope of safety, and a desperate one at the
best.”
“You love me--Gerald?”
At the sound of my name, spoken prettily in tremulous hesitation, I
felt the blood rush to my face.
“With my whole heart,” I cried hoarsely.
“Do not send me from you, then; I urge you, by our love. Let us face
what has to come together. I could meet death with you, but without you
I am a coward. I cannot go.”
“You must go, Christina,” I said in a low voice, and scarcely steadier
than her own.
“It is sending you to death, Gerald. I cannot do it. I could not live
if harm came to you through me.”
“No such harm as that can come. But, for God’s sake, think. If we
remain together now it can be but for a few minutes. If we fell into
these men’s hands, their first act would be to separate us. You must
go, my darling, you must.”
She gave a deep, heavy, sobbing sigh, and let her head fall on my
shoulder.
“It is worse than death to go alone like this.”
“It is our only chance for a happier life. You must go, and even these
moments of delay are imperilling everything. You must go--and at once.
God knows how gladly I would have you stay with me if I dared.”
“Then go with me. Captain Zoiloff will----” The look on my face checked
the sentence. “Oh, I cannot part with you, I cannot!” She moaned in
such agony that my heart ached. “We may never meet again.”
“We shall meet again with you in safety, do not fear,” I said, trying
to put a ring of hope into my voice, though my heart echoed her cry.
“You must go, my dearest;” and I began to lead her to the door, for
every moment now might turn the balance between safety and capture.
As I moved she threw herself into my arms and clung to me convulsively.
I held her to my heart; her face was close to me; my lips sought hers,
and our very souls seemed to rush together in that kiss.
“Till death, Christina,” I whispered passionately.
“Till death, Gerald,” she answered; and then with a long, trembling
sigh she drew from me. “Oh, how hard is fate!”
“Come, sweetheart,” I said; and without another word I led her out
to the horses, to where good Zoiloff was waiting with gloomy growing
impatience.
I lifted her tenderly to the saddle, and with a last yearning look and
a lingering pressure of the hand I turned away, sick and sad with the
sorrow of it all.
Zoiloff was mounted by then, and I wrung his hand.
“Guard her with your life, friend.”
“With my life,” he answered to the full as earnestly as I.
The plucky little Broumoff was already in the cart, with Spernow close
to her, and in another moment I was by her side.
There was still no sign of any troopers, and as for my scheme it was
necessary that they should see us, I led my party round to the front.
“When you hear the sound of our wheels, steal off at once, and make
across the fields there for the road,” I said, as a last word; “you
will be out of sight in the mist before the men have a thought that we
are not all together. Good-bye, and may God speed you!”
“Amen to that,” came in Zoiloff’s deep voice, and for the last time I
met Christina’s eyes.
When I reached the front of the house I waited a moment, listening
intently, and then hearing the sound of horsemen coming up the lane I
started my horses, and as soon as we were through the gate I whipped
them and dashed along the lane at a smart gallop, just as the foremost
couple of troopers loomed into sight through the shroud of the white
mist.