The Red, White, and Green

  CHAPTER XXI.

  _THE LAST BLOW._

  "What shall I do with this Russian, captain?"

  It was Mecsey talking, Mecsey very wet and bedraggled, but prompt andsoldier-like.

  "Russian!" I echoed, sitting up. "What Russian?"

  Mecsey pointed to a half-drowned figure at his feet, and I recognizedthe officer who had led the pursuit in the caverns.

  "He followed us, then?" said I, in a tone of wonder, for I had notdreamed of any one being foolhardy enough to jump after me into thathorrible pit.

  "We came together," replied Mecsey, nearly laughing. "He leaped at mythroat as I went over the side, and only loosened his hold when we shotout from the mountain."

  My faithful follower now helped me to rise, and once fairly on my feet,I felt very little the worse for the adventure.

  With the Russian, however, things had gone much worse, and it took usthe best part of half an hour to restore him.

  He was very weak and dazed, but sensible; and pointing to his jacket,said, "Vodka."

  I nodded in answer, and searching his pockets discovered a flask filledwith spirits, of which he swallowed a mouthful, and by signs intimatedthat we should do the same.

  It was fiery stuff, and took away my breath; but Mecsey appeared torelish it, though it was very unusual for him to drink anything half sostrong.

  However, the liquor was warming, and I thought it would be well, whileits effect lasted, to take our new companion on with us, believing thatthe exercise would the better restore his circulation.

  At first he leaned all his weight upon us, but gradually his stepsbecame firmer, and before long he walked with very little assistance.Still, it was evident he could not go far, and this made the situationawkward.

  Travelling at his pace I should not reach Goergei for days, when myinformation would be useless; yet I could not leave the brave fellowutterly alone in a strange land, where he would be far more likely tomeet with enemies than friends.

  Mecsey must stay with him. I could see no solution but that, and yet Ihad depended on Mecsey to guide me to Miskolcz.

  However, it had to be done; and at the first halt I explained the matterto the Russian.

  "It is very kind of you to think of me at all," he said. "I amgrateful."

  "You seemed so very anxious for my society," I said, laughing, "that Iam bound to take an interest in you; but, seriously, my man will remainto look after you. He is an honest fellow, and to be trusted. Ofcourse, there is a chance of falling in with your own people. In thatcase, I trust you to do everything in your power to set him free."

  "I promise that willingly."

  "Then I will say good-bye; it is possible we may not meet again."

  "I hope we shall, if only that I may have the chance to return yourkindness. Will you not tell me your name?

  "George Botskay."

  "And mine is Michael Popkoff."

  "I shall remember it; but now I must go. I am on special service; andsince you have deprived me of my horse, I must do the journey on foot."

  He laughed at that, and we parted very good friends.

  Mecsey, of course, disliked the arrangement; but, as the onlyalternative was to leave the Russian to die, he loyally accepted theinevitable.

  I left them there on the lonely mountain side, and set off resolutelywith my face towards Miskolcz.

  Mecsey believed this mountain stream which had so nearly cost us ourlives flowed into the Sajo River; if so, I had but to walk along itsbank--unless, indeed, it took another subterranean excursion, when itwould lose my company.

  It proceeded now with a rush and a rattle towards the plain, and itsrocky course reminded me of my shoeless feet.

  For a staff officer, I was in a pretty plight. My cap, of course, hadgone; my feet were bare; I had flung off my attila with my weapons; andI was wringing wet.

  The notebook was a mass of pulp, and so entirely useless that I threw itinto the stream; but I had previously committed the most important factsto memory, so that its loss mattered little.

  Then my thoughts wandered to Mecsey and his companion, and I could nothelp laughing.

  My servant knew not a word of any language save Magyar; his companion,in addition to Russian, could only speak bad German, and I wondered howthey would get on.

  The ludicrousness of their position kept me merry for a long time; andwhen the stream, leaving the mountains behind, debouched into an openplain, the journey became much pleasanter.

  I was now growing desperately hungry, but even in this matter goodfortune stood by me, as I had the luck to stumble against a zingariencampment.

  The gipsies were wretchedly poor, their tents were patched and dirty,they themselves were clothed in rags and tatters, but they had a fireand a big round pot with something savoury in it.

  They did not wish to share their meal with me, and warned me off withscowling looks and surly words; but I was far too hungry to be got ridof so easily.

  If they would not give me a dinner, I would buy one; and after a gooddeal of angry squabbling we made a bargain.

  The wrinkled old dame in charge of the cooking operations ladled outenough of the hot stew to fill a huge platter, in exchange for which Igave the head man of the party my gold-braided jacket.

  Elsewhere it would have been a dear dinner, but under the circumstancesI was quite content.

  In addition, they told me that by following the stream I shouldcertainly come up with the army before nightfall, which was verycheering news.

  These poor folk were often on the verge of starvation themselves, andthey showed no surprise at the ravenous way in which I gobbled up theplateful of food.

  The men sat about lazily and smoked; the women continued their labours;the naked children played their uncouth games without even a glance inmy direction.

  When the plate was empty, I rose to go, and no one even took the troubleto say good-day.

  "Lucky that Goergei is so near," I thought, "if every meal is to cost mea garment," for I was now reduced to a shirt and pair of trousers.

  However, the hot food had set me up, and I walked rapidly, keeping asharp lookout for any signs of my friends.

  Afternoon had passed into evening, and darkness was falling, when analert "Who goes there?" in Hungarian brought me to a halt.

  "A friend," I answered promptly.

  "Advance, friend, and give the countersign."

  "Pass the word for your officer," I said. "I am Captain Botskay ofGeneral Goergei's staff."

  "Stand quite still. If you move an inch I'll shoot you."

  I could not see the speaker, but his voice told me he was a man of hisword, so I stood still.

  Presently I heard the clatter of hoofs, and in a few minutes a party ofhorsemen rode up.

  I guessed at once that the general was visiting the outposts, and it wasno surprise to hear him calling, "Botskay, where are you? Come thisway!--Bring a torch, some one. Quick!"

  The light showed my strange attire, and the general, in spite of hisgenuine distress, could not forego his joke.

  "Ach, Botskay!" cried he good-humouredly, "I'm afraid we've disturbedyou. Just going to bed, eh? Here, take this," and removing the bundawhich lay across his saddle, he threw it over my shoulders.

  "Thanks, general," I replied gratefully. "That feels more comfortable."

  "Have you brought any information? Yes?--Szondi, lend Botskay yourhorse. He can tell me his news as we go back."

  My brother-officer jumped down at once, and I mounted in his stead.

  "Now," said Goergei, as he and I rode in advance, "what have youlearned?"

  In reply I related how I had watched the march of the Russian army, andgave him the approximate numbers of their men, horses, and guns.

  He listened very attentively, put numerous questions, most of which Iwas able to answer, and appeared exceedingly thoughtful.

  "Well, well," he at last exclaimed, "we must do our be
st; but unlessDembinski joins us from the south, I don't see how we're to escape.Other three weeks, my boy, will see the end of it."

  It was perfectly plain that the general's common-sense prevented himfrom hoping any longer, but he kept his knowledge to himself; and when,later on, we gathered round his table for an hour, he was the life andsoul of the party.

  Fortunately, my personal effects were in the camp, so that I was able tojoin the others properly dressed, though, of course, I had to enduremuch good-humoured raillery.

  After supper we lingered for a half-hour's chat, and the general askedme to relate the story of my personal adventures.

  At the part where we abandoned the horses, Goergei exclaimed laughingly,"Now we are on the track, gentlemen. It seems to me that our friend hasbeen hunted by wolves. First, he sacrifices the animals; then heempties his pistols; next, his servant gives up his life; then, one byone, he discards his garments to the ravening pack."

  "It's the wrong time of year for wolves, general."

  "Ach, so it is. Well, go on, Botskay. We're all wondering what itmeans."

  As the story unfolded bit by bit, the fellows craned forward eagerly,being loud in their applause when I told how Mecsey and Popkoff followedme into the dark waters.

  "That Mecsey is a servant worth having," said Goergei; "and the Russianproved a very plucky fellow."

  "His men showed the white feather, though," growled Mizvy, who alwaysfastened on the seamy side of things.

  "I think I should have done the same," cried Szondi, with a laugh."This underground travelling isn't much to my liking."

  "Some of these Muscovites would have been none the worse for a goodbath," chimed in another fellow.

  "But Mecsey Sandor and the Russian--what became of them?" inquired thegeneral.

  "Oh, Mecsey saved my life;" and I told how the trusty fellow had draggedboth Popkoff and myself from the river.

  At the idea of Mecsey and the Russian, neither of whom understood a wordthe other said, being left together, they all laughed heartily, being noless amused at my method of procuring a dinner.

  However, in spite of their fun, I knew they were very pleased at my safereturn; and the general's "Well done, Botskay!" as I left his tent, wasample reward for what I had gone through.

  Early the next morning we were again in retreat, and on the twenty-fifthof July crossed the Theiss at Poroszlo, after a sharp engagement withthe Russian advanced guard, commanded by Prince Gortschakoff.

  Mecsey had not yet returned, but his absence did not alarm me, asColonel Popkoff was not in a condition to travel very fast.

  During the retreat I had seen Rakoczy several times, and also Dobozy,who had recently been made major.

  The former retained his joyous spirits, came up with a cheery smileafter each misfortune, and professed to believe that before long weshould gain a tremendous victory, and drive both Austrians and Russiansout of the country.

  All this was only for outside consumption, but Dobozy assured me thatthe colonel really had not the slightest hope of success. In fact, ageneral depression settled down on the army. The soldiers began togrumble and to ask why they were fighting. The old grievance broke outafresh, and men said openly it was a folly to sacrifice their lives fora cause in which they had no part.

  They were not republicans, and if Goergei had had a free hand, all theywanted would have been granted long before.

  Still, they trusted implicitly in their great leader, and if he toldthem to fight on, why, fight they would.

  Occasionally we heard accounts of Bern's gallant exploits inTransylvania, where in the face of heavy odds he astounded his opponentsboth by his daring bravery and his military skill.

  Yet we all felt that, whatever the result of the campaign in thatquarter, it could have little effect on the real struggle.

  If we could join our forces with those of Dembinski, there remained achance of striking at the Austrian and Russian armies separately, but itwas as difficult to join the Pole as to avoid the enemy.

  However, Goergei persevered, and, leaving Nagy Sandor to cover theapproach to Debreczin with 18,000 men, continued his march, hoping by awide circuit to deceive the Russians and reach the fortress of Arad.

  There, if anywhere, we should be joined by Dembinski; and if he couldnot or would not meet us, we could either surrender or die where westood.

  It was, if I remember rightly, on the fourth morning after leaving theTheiss that the general sent me back in hot haste with a note for NagySandor.

  "Another journey, Botskay?" cried Szondi, as I rode past. "Don't forgetto bring your clothes back this time."

  There was a hearty laugh at this from his comrades, and one said itwould be easy to track me, were I missing, by looking for my abandonedgarments.

  Indeed many years went by before I heard the last of that unluckyincident.

  I answered their chaff in the same strain, and rode off in good spirits,though sorry that the trusty Mecsey was not with me.

  Everything went well on the journey. There was no likelihood of meetingwith the Russians, and my worst enemies were the bad roads.

  At night I slept three or four hours in a peasant's hut, enteringDebreczin about noon next day.

  The city was in the greatest uproar. The people crowded the streetstalking excitedly, and the word "Russians" was on the tongue of everyspeaker.

  Being fairly well acquainted with the district, I expected to find NagySandor posted on the sandhills about a mile from and covering the town.

  I had just cleared the city when a tremendous cannonade opened from thehills. It was Nagy Sandor's artillery showering grape and canister uponthe enemy's advanced guard.

  Spurring my horse vigorously I overtook the general, with severalofficers, riding to the scene of conflict.

  He glanced at Goergei's note, thrust it into his pocket, told me to waittill the end of the battle, and dashed on to the hills where he hadposted his masked battery.

  Forty guns were belching forth canister and grape on the advancingRussians, who appeared to be taken by surprise.

  They came on, however, in dense columns; but the iron hail was too muchfor them, and at last they went back beaten, amidst the cheers of ourinfantry massed behind the guns.

  The advantage, however, did not remain with us long. Four heavybatteries, placed in good positions, replied to our guns, and a shorttime afterwards we saw the horse artillery galloping to the front.

  "The odds are too great," said the man next me savagely. "The enemymust have forty against our eighteen thousand, and we shall be beatenagain."

  "We're getting well used to it," muttered his comrade, laughing harshly.

  "Our fellows are sticking to their guns grandly for all that," I said;and indeed for several hours the cannonade continued without theRussians gaining a step.

  Having no special duty to perform, I busied myself in attending to thewounded, for the enemy's fire was committing havoc in our ranks.

  Late in the afternoon I again found myself near the general, who hadsent off all his aides-de-camp, when I saw a movement on our right whichtold me that the battle was lost.

  Nagy Sandor saw it too, and his face grew black as night.

  "Paskewitch has brought up his reserves," he exclaimed, "and we haveonly a handful to oppose them. Well, we must do what we can."

  He looked round for a messenger, and, seeing me, said, "Botskay, ride tothe rear and tell Torot to bring up every man he has. You see that?"and he pointed to the Russian movement on our right.

  I bowed, and rode off to find Torot.

  Two infantry divisions, supported by four field-batteries, werepreparing to attack us in our weakest place; while far away on the righta column of infantry and a division of cavalry were marching by a widecircuit towards the town.

  As for us, every man except the reserve had been fighting for hoursagainst overwhelming odds, and there was not one to be spared from hisplace.

  With a heavy heart I told Torot what was happening, a
nd glanceddisconsolately at his small body of troops.

  "The Muscovites will swallow us up," said he cheerfully. "However,there's the order; so off we go."

  I placed myself with the cavalry, and we moved out in good order fromthe shelter of the hills.

  In the centre our guns maintained an equal conflict, but our right wasterribly weakened, and incapable of resisting this fresh attack.

  The poor fellows so sadly harassed greeted us with loud cheers, thoughreally we could do little more than swell the number of dead andwounded.

  I do not know who led the cavalry charge, but he was a gallant fellowand deserved a better fate.

  The nearest battery was our goal, and few of us that survived will everforget that terrible ride.

  It was almost the last blow we were to strike in defence of our flag,though we did not know it then.

  The colonel pointed to the battery that was dealing out death to ourcomrades.

  "My lads," he said simply, "it is for us to take those guns."

  The men shook their swords, answering by a savage cheer.

  The battle had got on their nerves. They were desperate, and carednothing at all for the fact that three-fourths of us were going to meetdeath.

  It was the culminating point of the fight. All around rose the roar ofthe guns, the cheers and groans of the combatants, the tramp of rushingfeet, the rattle of artillery.

  A blaze of light on the left marked where a powder tumbrel had exploded.Yells of victory and defiance came from the same spot, but we rode onsteadily with the fixed idea of capturing the guns in front of us.

  A decimated infantry regiment, going goodness knows where, paused tocheer us; but we sped onward, gathering speed at every stride--gatheringsuch momentum that I doubt if we could have stopped.

  The colonel was a horse's length in front, going straight for thebattery, when the first crash came.

  The shot tore holes through our ranks, and men shrieked with pain; butthe survivors never drew rein, and in an instant our dead were leftbehind.

  At the second discharge the gallant colonel reeled to and fro in hissaddle; but he kept his seat, though I knew he must be mortally wounded.

  Again the guns spoke, and this time both horse and man dropped; but Itook our leader's place, and still we went on like a company of madfuries.

  I dared not look behind, I dared not even think. I could only shake mysword and cry "Forward!"

  Then we were in the midst of the guns, slashing at the artillerymen, whofought us till the very end.

  But we did what we had been sent to do, and cheered exultingly as weemerged on the other side.

  Alas! that cheer was the death-knell of many.

  Whiz! whiz! sang the bullets as a battalion of infantry, hitherto hiddenby a depression in the ground, sprang to their feet and poured volleyafter volley into us.

  Broken by our charge, disordered, panting, we waited a momentirresolutely, then tried to form up and return.

  Only the maddest of madmen would have faced this fresh enemy.

  But the horror was not yet at an end.

  As we rode back, a mere handful of wearied men, a dense mass of heavycavalry barred our path.

  Flight was impossible. There were but two alternatives--surrender ordeath.

  The Magyars chose the latter, and, gripping our swords firmly, we wentstraight at the grey-coated mass, and were instantly swallowed up.

  There was no time for parrying of blows; we had to take our chance, and,cutting and thrusting, try to force a passage.

  "Follow me, my lads! follow me!" I shouted, as long as my voice heldout, but before the end of the fight I was past speaking.

  I do not know how many of us got through. My head was dizzy, my sightdim. I heard a babel of sounds without being able to distinguish one,and sat my horse only by mechanically gripping the pommel of my saddle.

  Then a number of black figures surrounded me; and in the midst of this,to me, phantom army I swept on into the land of darkness.