The Interpreter: A Tale of the War

  CHAPTER XX

  THE BELOOCHEE

  The pursuit was fast and furious. After crossing such a river as theDanube, in the teeth of a far superior force and under a heavyfire--after carrying the Russian redoubts with the bayonet, and drivingtheir main body back upon its reserve, the Turkish troops, flushed andwild with victory, were not to be stopped by any soldiers on earth.

  Iskender's charge had completely scattered the devoted body that had sogallantly interposed to cover the retreat of their comrades, and a totalrout of the Russian forces was the result. The plains of Wallachia wereliterally strewed with dismounted guns, broken ambulance wagons,tumbrils, ammunition carts, dead and dying, whilst still the fierceMoslem urged his hot pursuit. Straggler after straggler, reeking withhaste and all agape with fear, reached the astonished town of Bucharest,and the reports in that pleasure-seeking capital were, as may well beimagined, of the most bewildering and contradictory description.

  Many a frightful scene was witnessed by the terrified Wallachianpeasant, as fugitive after fugitive was overtaken, struck down andbutchered by the dread pursuers. Nay, women and children were notspared in the general slaughter; and the hideous practice of refusing"quarter," which has so long existed between the Turkish and Russianarmies, 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 strugglesto draw them through the slough in which they are fast. Half-a-dozenTurkish troopers are on their track, urging those game little horses totheir speed, and escape is hopeless.

  Helpless and mutilated, the poor fellows abandon themselves to theirfate. The Turks ride in and make short work of them, the Muscov dyingwith a stolid grim apathy peculiar to himself and his natural foe. Thewoman alone shows energy and quickness in her efforts to preserve herchild. She covers the baby over with the straw at the bottom of thecart; wounded as she is in the confusion, and with an arm broken, sheseeks to divert the attention of her ruthless captors. Satisfied withtheir 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 Turkishtrooper buries his lance amongst the straw, and withdraws the steel headand gaudy pennon, reeking with innocent blood. The mother's shriekflies straight to Heaven. Shall the curse she invokes on that ruthlessbrute fall back unheard? Ride on, man of blood--ride on, to burn andravage and slay; and when the charge hath swept over thee, and the fieldis lost, and thou art gasping out thy life-blood on the plain, think ofthat murdered child, and die like a dog in thy despair!

  By a route nearly parallel with the line of flight, but wanderingthrough an unfrequented district with which the Cossacks seem wellacquainted, the Beloochee and myself proceed towards our captivity. Wehave ample leisure to examine our guards, these far-famed Cossacks ofwhom warriors hear so much and see so little--the best scouts andforagers known, hardy, rapid, and enduring, the very eyes and ears of anarmy, and for every purpose except fighting unrivalled by any lightcavalry in the world. My original captor, who still clings to me with amost unwelcome fondness, is no bad specimen of his class. He is mountedon a shaggy pony, that at first sight seems completely buried even underthe middle-sized man it carries, but with a lean, good head, and wirylimbs that denote speed and endurance, when put to the test. In asnaffle bridle, and with its head up, the little animal goes with ajerking, springing motion, not the least impaired by its day's work, andthe fact that it has now been without food for nearly twenty-four hours.Its master, the same who keeps his small bright eye so constantlyfastened upon his prisoners, is a man of middle height, spare, strong,and sinewy, with a bushy red beard and huge moustache. His dressconsists of enormously loose trousers, a tight-fitting jacket, and highleathern shako; and he sits with his knees up to his chin. His arms area short sabre, very blunt, and useless, and a long lance, with which hedelights to do effective service against a fallen foe. He has placedthe Beloochee between himself and me; it seems that he somewhatmistrusts my companion, but considers myself, a wounded man on one oftheir 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 ofa lance, hazards an observation, every now and then, in Turkish. It issatisfactory to find that our guardians are totally ignorant of thatlanguage. I remark, too, that Ali listens anxiously at every halt, andapparently satisfied with what he hears, though I for my own part candiscern nothing, walks on in a cheerful frame of mind, which I attributeentirely to the Moslem stoicism. His conversation towards dusk consistsentirely of curses upon his captors; and these worthies, judging of itstenor by the sound, and sympathising doubtless with the relief thusafforded, cease to belabour him for his remarks.

  At nightfall the rain came on again as in the morning; and at length itgrew pitch dark, just as we entered a defile, on one side of which was asteep bank covered with short brushwood, and on the other a wood ofyoung oaks nearly impenetrable.

  I felt the Beloochee's wrist press mine with an energy that must meansomething.

  "Are you in pain?" he whispered in Turkish, adding a loud and volublecurse 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 attimes."

  "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 myankle-bone?"

  "Silence!" interposed the Cossack, with a bang over the Beloochee'sshoulders.

  "Both or none," whispered the latter after a few seconds' interval, "doexactly 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 soakingcould scarcely be called an inconvenience; nevertheless, it created alonging for a pipe, and the tobacco-bag he had taken from Ali wasfortunately not half emptied. As he stopped to fill and light his shortsilver-mounted meerschaum, the spoil of some fallen foe, the troopers inour rear passed on. We were left some ten paces behind the rest, andthe night was as dark as pitch.

  Ali handed me a small knife: he had concealed that and one other tinyweapon in the folds of his sash when they searched him on the field ofbattle. I knew what he meant, and cut the cord that bound our wriststogether; his other hand, meanwhile, to lull suspicion, caressed theCossack's horse. That incautious individual blew upon his match, whichrefused to strike a good light.

  In a twinkling Ali's shawl was unwound from his body and thrownapparently over the Cossack's saddle-bow. The smothered report of apocket-pistol smote on my ear, but the sound could not penetrate throughthose close Cashmere folds to the party in front, and they rodeunconsciously forward. The Beloochee's hand, too, was on hisadversary's throat; and one or two gasps, as they rolled together to theground, made me doubt whether he had been slain by the ball from thatlittle though effective weapon, or choked in the nervous gripe of theAsiatic.

  I had fortunately presence of mind to restrain my own horse, and catchthe Cossack's by the bridle; the party in front still rode on.

  Ali rose from the ground. "The knife," he whispered hoarsely, "theknife!"

  Once, twice, he passed it through that prostrate body. "Throw yourselfoff," he exclaimed; "let the horses go. Roll down that bank, and we aresaved!"

  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. Ilanded in a water-course full of pebbles, but the underwood had servedto break my fall; and though sorely bruised and with a broken ankle, Iwas 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
onearth but _one_ can creep down that precipice; lie still. If the moondoes not come out, we are saved."

  Moments of dreadful suspense followed. We could hear the Cossacksshouting to each other above, and their savage yell when they discoveredtheir slain comrade smote wildly on our ears. Again I urged theBeloochee to fly--why should he wait to die with me? I could scarcelyscrawl, and a cold sickness came on at intervals that unnerved metotally.

  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 havedivided in search of their late prey. The moon, too, struggled outfitfully. It was a wild scene.

  The Beloochee whistled--a low, peculiar whistle, like the cry of anight-hawk. He listened attentively; again he repeated that prolonged,wailing note. A faint neigh answered it from the darkness, and we heardthe 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, andlaid its head against his bosom. Stern as he was, he caressed it as amother fondles a child. It was his famous bay mare, "the treasure of hisheart," "the corner of his liver,"--for by such endearing epithets headdressed her,--and now he felt indeed that he was saved.

  "Mount," he said, "in the name of the Prophet. I know exactly where weare. Zuleika has the wings of the wind; she laughs to scorn the heavysteeds of the Giaour; they swallow the dust thrown up by her hoofs, andZuleika bounds from them like the gazelle. Oh, _jhanum_!--oh, my soul!"Once more he caressed her, and the mare seemed well worthy of hisaffection; she returned it by rubbing her head against him with a lowneigh.

  I was soon in the saddle, with the Beloochee walking by my side. Hisiron frame seemed to acknowledge no fatigue. Once I suggested that themare should carry double, and hazarded an opinion that by reducing thepace we might fairly increase the burden. The remark well-nigh cost methe loss of my preserver's friendship.

  "Zuleika," he exclaimed, with cold dignity, "Zuleika requires no suchconsideration. She is not like the gross horse of the Frank, who sinksand snorts, and struggles and fails, under his heavy burden. She wouldstep lightly as a deer under three such men as we are. No, light of myeyes," he added, smoothing down the thin silky mane of his favourite, "Iwill walk by thee and caress thee, and feast my eyes on thy star-likebeauty. Should the Giaour be on our track, I will mount thee with theTergyman, and we will show him the mettle of a real daughter of thedesert--my rose, my precious one!"

  She was, indeed, a high-bred-looking animal, although from her greatstrength in small compass she appeared less speedy than she really was.Her colour was a rich dark bay, without a single white hair. Her crestwas high and firm as that of a horse; and her lean, long head andexpressive countenance showed the ancestry by which her doting masterset such store. Though the skin that covered those iron muscles soloosely was soft and supple as satin, she carried no flesh, and her deepribs might almost be counted by the eye. Long in her quarters, withlegs of iron and immense power in her back and loins, she walked with anelastic, springy gait, such as even my own Injour could not haveemulated. She was of the highest breed in the desert, and as superiorto other horses as the deer is to the donkey. I wondered how my friendhad obtained possession of her; and as we plodded on, the Beloochee, whohad recovered his good-humour, walking by my side, condescended toinform me of the process by which the invaluable Zuleika had become hisown.

  "Tergyman!" said he, "I have journeyed through many lands, and with theexception of your country--the island of storms and snows--I have seenthe 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, youperceive, is from the desert: 'The nearer the sun, the nobler thesteed.' She was bred in the tent of a scheik, and as a foal she carriedon 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 Meccaand seen a greater part of Asia Minor.

  "From my youth up I have been a man of war, Effendi, and the word ofcommand has been more familiar to my lips than the blessed maxims of theProphet; but the time will come when I too shall be obliged to cross thenarrow bridge that spans the abyss of hell. And if my naked feet haveno better protection from its red-hot surface than deeds of arms andblood-stained victories, woe to me for ever! I shall assuredly fallheadlong into the depths of fire.

  "Therefore I bethought me of a pilgrimage to Mecca, for he is indeed atrue believer who has seen with his own eyes the shrine of the BlessedProphet. Many and long were the days I passed under the burning sun ofthe desert; wearisome and slow was the march of the caravan. My jadedcamel 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, mybeast dragged his weary steps. I quitted his back and led him till hefell. No sooner was he down than the vultures gathered screaming aroundhim, though not a speck had I seen for hours in the burning sky. Then Ibeheld a small cloud far off on the horizon; it was but of the size ofone of these herdsmen's cottages, but black as the raven, and itadvanced more rapidly than a body of horsemen. Ere I looked again itseemed to reach the heavens, the skies became dark as night, columns ofsand whirled around me, and I knew the simoom was upon us and it wastime 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 bonesby the birds of prey, my mouth and nostrils were full of sand. Nearlysuffocated, faint and helpless, it was some time ere I was aware of anArab horseman standing over me, and looking on my pitiable conditionwith 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 werejoined by his tribe; I went with him to his tents, and I became to himas a brother, for he had saved me at my need.

  "He was a scheik of the wild Bedouins: a better warrior never drew asword. Rich was he too, and powerful; but of all his wives andchildren, camels, horses, and riches, he had two treasures that hevalued higher than the pearl of Solomon--his bay mare and his daughterZuleika."

  The Beloochee's voice trembled, and he paused. For a few seconds helistened 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 lookingfar into the darkness, he proceeded--

  "I saw her day after day in her father's tent. Soon I longed for herlight step and gentle voice as we long for the evening breeze after theglare and heat of the day. At last I watched her dark eyes as we watchthe guiding star by night in the desert. To the scheik I was as abrother. I was free to come and go in his tent, and all his goods weremine. Effendi! I am but a man, and I loved the girl. In less than ayear I had become a warrior of their tribe; many a foray had I riddenwith them, and many a herd of camels and drove of horses had I helpedthem to obtain. Once I saved the scheik's life with the very sword Ilost to-day. Could they not have given me the girl? Oh! it was bitterto 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 thescheik's kinsman, and she had been betrothed to him from a child. Icould bear it no longer. The maiden looked at me with her dark eyesfull of tears. I had eaten the scheik's salt--he had saved me from alingering death--he was my host, my friend, my benefactor, and I robbedhim of his daughter. We fled in the night. I owned a horse that couldoutstrip every steed in the tribe save one. I took a leathern skin ofwater, a few handfuls of barley, and my arms. I placed Zuleika on thesaddle in front of me, and at daybreak we were alone in the desert, sheand I, and we were happy. When the sun had been up an hour, there was aspeck in the horizon behind us. I told Zuleika we were pursued; but shebid 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 thattreasure but himself. She had loosed the bay mare the night before fromher picket-ropes; it would be morning before they could find her, andthere was nothing to fear. I took comfort, and pressed my bride to myheart.

  "In the desert, Effendi, it is not as with us. The Arab's life dependsupon his horse, and he proves him as you would prove a blade. At twoyears old he rides him till his back bends,[#] and he never forgets themerits of the colt. Each horse's speed is as well known in the tribe asis each officer's rank in the army of the Padisha. Nothing couldovertake 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; theiridea being that a horse's worst year is from three to four; during whichperiod they let him run perfectly idle, but feeding him at the same timeas if in full work: for, say they, "a horse's goodness goes in at hismouth." At five he is considered mature.

  "We galloped steadily on, and once more I looked over my shoulder. Thespeck had become larger and darker now, and I caught the gleam of alance in the morning sun. Our pursuer must be nearing us; my horse toobegan to flag, for I had ridden fiercely, and he carried myself and mybride. Nevertheless, we galloped steadily on.

  "Once more I looked back. The object was distinct enough now; it was ahorseman going at speed. Allah be praised! there was but one. Zuleikaturned pale and trembled--my lily seemed to fade on my bosom. Effendi,I had resolved what to do."