Chapter XXII

Next morning the preliminary investigation was held by the commandant. He finished with all other work first, and then directed that I should be brought before him. I knew this, because the others were taken away to stand their trial, and I was left behind. When I was in his presence I saluted, and the commandant said with soldierly directness:

"The adjutant is dead; you are charged with killing him; have you anything to say?"

"Only this, sir," I replied, "he insulted me, then he insulted Mademoiselle Julie, who is now my wife; I struck him, he drew his sword, and I my bayonet. I was the quicker of the two, and wounded him; then he raised his sword to cut me down, and I repeated the blow."

"But there were three wounds; is it not so?" he said to the surgeon.

"Yes, monsieur le commandant."

"How do you explain the third wound?"

"Two," I answered, "were in self-defence, the third, sir, in passion."

"Ah; and how in self-defence?"

"The first, sir, on the arm as he drew his sword; the second on the body as he lifted it to strike; the third, sir, on the body in the anger of the moment."

"That will do," said the officer; "as the general is arriving to-day I will lay the matter before him. But I warn you, prepare for a court-martial and its result."

I saluted, and was led away.

There is no need to go through the preliminaries. The general received the same information from me as the commandant had got, and at once ordered a board of officers to try me for the offence.

"They will not have much difficulty in deciding, as the accused confesses his crime, so I will wait here to confirm the finding," he said to the commandant.

I heard this as I was facing about with the escort to return to the guard-house, and the last vestige of hope disappeared.

I gave no further evidence before the court-martial than I had already given to the commandant. I did not like to speak of the adjutant's animosity towards me, as that and its consequences would supply a motive for my act, and that I did not wish to impress upon their minds. Better let them think it was sudden, as, indeed, it was in one way, than deliberate and led up to by his own fault, as it was in another. One must understand that, but for my resentment and sense of wrong and oft-thought desire of his death, I should not have killed him; and one must also know that, were he passing quietly by, I should not have rushed upon him with my bayonet. My feelings were due to the injuries and insults he had heaped upon me; my sudden action to his threat about my life to Giulia, repeated, as it was, to me.

The result of the court-martial was that I was acquitted of the killing, as that was done in self-defence, but found guilty of striking my superior officer, and for that sentenced to be shot. This was duly confirmed, read out on general parade, and the execution was set for the following morning at eight o'clock. As I heard the words read out, standing bareheaded, without a belt, between two soldiers with loaded rifles and fixed bayonets, I felt that my last sun would set that night. Little I guessed of what would be accomplished by the wit and courage of a loving woman, by the unselfish chivalry of two legionaries, who had gone separately to Giulia, neither knowing of the other's design, and offered to help her and her husband, even at the risk of their lives. And yet both these men made light of their action at the time, and, were they in the land of the living to-day, would surely only claim the credit of having stood by a comrade in trouble and a woman in distress. They were the English corporal, whom I have already mentioned, and an Irishman--a simple soldier--let us call him Mac. When Giulia thanked the corporal he told her that, as he had lost his honour long ago, it did not matter if he lost his life now.

"Surely not your honour?" she queried.

"Well, I think not, indeed, but the world, unfortunately, does not agree with me."

Mac said he could not do less than try to rescue me,--"il est mon pays, n'est ce pas?"--and he, because he was an Irishman, could always get what he wished in the canteen. I did not know this. I found out, however, that Giulia often gave Mac, the only other Irishman in the battalion, brandy and wine and tobacco without payment, as he was my countryman, and I do not blame the poor devil for accepting, for he was always in trouble, his pay was constantly stopped, and a soldier can do easily without his dinner, but is ripe for mischief if he is deprived of his glass and of his pipe. Well, she did not lose in the end, as he said--but that must come in its own place.

Now the Englishman was corporal of the guard that night. I did not know anything definite about the plan for my escape, for when Giulia visited me at about six o'clock in the evening all she could tell me was to hope, to watch, and to be ready. I needed little advice about the last two matters; as for hoping, that was almost impossible. About eight o'clock the corporal visited me, as a matter of duty, to see that all was right. He ordered me, in a loud, rough voice, to get up from where I lay. As I stood in front of him he whispered: "After midnight," and departed.

At about twenty minutes past twelve I heard a low voice calling to me at the window. This I had left open, so that there might be a means of communication if anyone could get to the other side. I had not much expectation of this, as a sentry was posted just there, and no legionary, I thought, would be such a fool as to risk punishment by permitting even Giulia to speak to me. When I went to the window I found Mac outside.

"Hurry, hurry," he said; "we must get these bars out quickly. We can lose no time if we are to succeed."

Now there were two iron bars fixed vertically in the mud of which the wall was built, and Mac, giving me a bayonet, told me to clear the lower end of one, while he cleared the lower end of the other. We said nothing more. We worked with a will. In a short time the ends were free, and then Mac, a powerful man, pulled the bars out, so that I could just squeeze my body through. I had, however, to take off my tunic to do so, and I passed this out first. When I got out I saw a body on the ground.

"You have his bayonet," said Mac, "take his rifle and belt as well."

The man lay quite motionless. I took his belt and put it on and then possessed myself of the rifle. I felt happy enough now. Now they could not shoot me like a dog; I could at least die fighting.

"Wait a moment," said Mac.

In a few minutes we heard the door of the guard-house opening, and then the voice of the corporal telling the sentinel in front that he would return in a quarter of an hour. The corporal came round to where we stood. He had his rifle, bayonet, and ammunition. He said:

"Is it all right?"

"Yes."

"Are you armed?"

"Yes, both; he has the sentry's weapons."

"Very good; let us go. When we are at a safe distance from the guard-house we shall pretend to be a visiting patrol."

In this way we passed the sentries at a distance from the main-guard and marched boldly along till we came to where a native cavalryman was on duty near the horses. He challenged, and received a satisfactory reply. As we passed him the corporal halted us, and ordered me to hold his rifle for a moment. I took it, and before I or the cavalry-guard could understand the Englishman had the latter by the throat. Mac laid down his rifle and seized the unfortunate fellow's arms, and in a few moments he was a corpse.

"Now," said the corporal to me, "you get the woman, we will get ready the horses."

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Some place over there." And he pointed with his hand.

I went in the direction pointed out and soon met Giulia. She had been easily able to follow us, for our steady tramp could be heard at some distance. We made no attempt to conceal our movements; we were to all appearance a visiting patrol. As I came to her side I whispered: "It goes very well, carissima. The others are getting out the horses."

Giulia flung herself into my arms. I snatched a kiss and led her to where Mac and the Englishman were busy. They had two horses already out, and were saddling them with all despatch. One must understand that the saddles and bridles are always kept near the chargers, especially in a place where at any moment a raid from the desert may have to be repelled. Soon four horses were ready, and then we all mounted and rode slowly towards a gate at the rear of the camp, where a single sentinel was posted. This man, luckily for us, was a Turco. When the corporal replied to his challenge and told him that we were officers he believed the story. Then the Englishman and I dismounted, taking only our bayonets, and approached the gate. The sentry protested against our opening this, but I got behind him and flung my hands about his neck. At the same moment the corporal wrenched away the rifle and bayonet and buried his own steel in the Turco's heart.

We opened the gate as quickly and quietly as possible and went out. For ten minutes we walked our horses slowly and almost noiselessly away from the camp. Then we headed due south after a short consultation--the corporal leading, Giulia and I following, Mac bringing up the rear. We were now going straight for the Great Desert, where alone there was hope of safety. Had we gone north towards the Mediterranean, our freedom would not be worth twenty-four hours' purchase. As it was, we had a good chance of getting safely away from French pursuit, for our post lay at the extreme south of French territory in that part. But in the desert what were we to do? We did not know--we did not think about that. All our energies and thoughts were directed to getting clear away from the French and native cavalry. We knew that the escape would be soon discovered, but we fancied that no pursuit would be attempted until dawn, and it was our business to travel as far as we could from the cantonment in the short time that we had at our disposal. Moreover, if we could only put a fair distance between ourselves and our pursuers there was every likelihood that they would never catch up with us, because the native horsemen would not care to go too far into the desert, for they would get little quarter from the Arabs who infest it. Why, they would be killed for the sake of their horses, equipments, and arms, and the wild Arab does not fear the native levies as he does the Frenchmen, for two reasons--in the first place, the Arab is quite as good a fighting man, and he knows it, as the other African; in the second, it is only the white soldiers whose weapons kill from afar. As for us, we had to venture into the desert, as I have already said. We wanted, to use another phrase of mine, to get from the fire to the frying-pan--_du feu a la poele_.

We kept steadily forward until the sun came up in the east with his usual suddenness. Then we halted, and began to consider our position. At best it was a bad one. We were four, with four horses; for ourselves, we had only a haversack of food and a flask of brandy that Giulia had been thoughtful enough to bring, for our horses we had nothing. As far as fighting power went we were better off, as we had three good rifles--_fusils Gras_ we called them--and eighty rounds of ball cartridge per man. We had bayonets as well, and Giulia had a pair of revolvers and a stiletto, so that, given a fair chance, we were good enough for a dozen enemies. One must remember that we were desperate; nothing could be gained by surrendering to Frenchmen, since our lives were now forfeit; with a woman in the party we could not surrender to Arabs.

The English corporal, Mac and I, spoke in English.

"I want you to promise one thing," I said to them: "if two go down, let the third kill my wife."

"Oh, that's understood," said the Englishman.

"I hope it may not be my lot," said Mac, "but I'll do it all the same."

"Now," said the corporal, "we must go farther south and chance meeting with the Arabs. I don't know," he went on, "whether I am anxious to meet any or not. If we don't meet any we shall probably miss the wells; if we do meet them there will be a fight."

"It is better to fight," said Mac, "than to die of thirst in the desert."

"I think so too," I said.

"Well," asked the corporal, "shall we go straight on at top speed or rest?"

"Let us go on," I advised; "let us press on as far as we can, then if we meet any Arabs, or if the spahis ride up to us, we can halt and fight. Remember, without food or water for our horses we cannot run, we cannot make even a running fight; it must be a standing fight to a finish."

The Englishman and Mac agreed with me, and before we started again I said to Giulia in their hearing:

"N'aie pas peur, ma bien chere, tu ne seras pas prisonniere, plutot tu seras tuee par le dernier protecteur."

"Je suis bien content," she replied, and, bowing prettily to the others, she murmured a word of thanks.

We rode on for about two hours, and then halted to rest our horses and to eat a little of Giulia's provisions. We did not drink, as brandy is not a good thing when one has nothing else. If we could only get our usual morning coffee we should have had a nip apiece, but we who had soldiered in Algeria and other hot climates were too sensible to touch fire-water without anything to qualify it and with the certainty of a hot day's march before us. After eating and smoking we got back into our saddles and rode on until the heat of the sun made us again halt for our own sakes as well as on account of our animals. In spite of our discomfort we felt fairly happy; we had made a good morning's march since the sun appeared, and though we had done very little in the darkness, yet we believed ourselves to be safe enough from pursuit. After a couple of hours' rest we resolved, in spite of the heat, to press on again, and, going rather slowly, we and our horses were not too hard pressed. About four o'clock in the afternoon we again halted, this time for about an hour, and then, as our horses did not seem to suffer overmuch from the want of food and water--they were desert horses, one must remember--we again mounted and continued our journey to the south.

It was, I should say, a little past five o'clock in the afternoon when Mac, who had halted for a moment to look to the north, shouted to us that the spahis were coming. We turned, and saw, a long distance away, for the atmosphere was very clear, a party of mounted soldiers advancing on our tracks. There was no use in tiring our horses and ourselves by an attempted flight; we understood quite plainly that the native cavalrymen were certain to overtake us, and it was just as well to await them where we stood. We dismounted, hobbled our horses, and came together for consultation. The corporal said:

"We must stand at least ten paces apart from one another, unless they charge; in that case we must stand back to back."

"Give your orders, corporal," I said, "and we will obey."

"Yes," assented Mac; "there must be a commanding officer in every battle."

"Very good," said the corporal. "You, Mac, go ten paces to the right; you stay here, mademoiselle; you"--this to me--"go ten paces farther to the left; and I place myself at the extreme left, so we shall offer bad targets, especially for cavalry."

When we had ranged ourselves as ordered our enemies were close enough for us to note their numbers; they were a dozen in all.

"Why," shouted Mac, "it's only a corporal's squad; we're a corporal's squad ourselves, boys, and we're whites."

"As soon as you think you can hit a man or horse fire," commanded the corporal.

In a moment or two I heard a report on the right. Mac, one of the best shots in our old battalion, had fired, and the result was of good omen. A horse fell heavily in the advance, pitching his rider forward, a second stumbled over the first, staggered to the left, and brought down a third. We cheered as we saw this, and the rest of the little troop pulled up for a moment. As they did so the corporal and I fired. A man tumbled out of his saddle on their right; in the centre a horse, mad with the sudden shock and the pain of the bullet, suddenly ran away with its rider. They passed not more than fifty yards to our right, and Mac's rifle spoke again: the spahi flung up his hands and fell forward on his horse's neck.

"Well done, Mac," I shouted out, "we can easily whip them now."

As I spoke I dropped on one knee and levelled my rifle at the little knot of men and horses. The corporal and I fired almost together, and though no man or horse fell, yet we felt certain that some damage was done. We knew quite well, as every soldier knows, that a wounded horse will not always fall and that an Arab will sit in his saddle with more than one bullet in his body. One result our fire had, it caused the spahis to withdraw out of range, and this gave us a respite. One will ask: Why did not the cavalry return our fire? Well, it would do them no good. Our weapons killed at a much longer range than theirs; for two reasons--first, the rifle always carries farther than the carbine; and, second, our weapons were of later pattern and, therefore, better than theirs.

We could now reckon up our successes. To Mac's first shot three horses and three men had fallen; of these two horses and one man remained on the ground. My first shot had sent a horse careering madly over the desert, and Mac's second had put his rider out of the fight. The corporal had also brought down a man, but this fellow had been carried away by his comrades. As for the last shots, there was no apparent result, but we believed that some damage had been done by them. Anyway three men and three horses were accounted for, and we who had driven back a dozen spahis had no fear of only nine, though we were not such fools as to imagine that these hot-blooded Arabs were more than temporarily discomfited by our success.

Very soon the Arabs again advanced, but in a different fashion. Instead of now coming forward in a bunch they separated widely over the plain, so as to form a great half-circle in our front and our flanks.

"Don't throw away a shot," commanded the corporal. And then, hesitating for a moment, he continued: "Let us draw closer together--this is the grand attack--if they don't come home now in their charge, they will never do it."

We all closed in on Giulia; we formed a lozenge or diamond in array. I looked straight towards the north, the corporal to the west, Mac to the east, and Giulia was just at my back, but looking past me at the quickly-moving spahis. Our bayonets were fixed. Suddenly one of the spahis, the corporal, I suppose, uttered a loud cry and charged. All the rest followed his example, and in a moment the nine were within long range. We fired and loaded, fired again and loaded again. I cannot say how often this occurred, but I saw a horse fall in my front to my second bullet, and soon afterwards I knew that two men at least were charging home. As they came with levelled lances I heard the corporal say:

"Mine are settled; I'm with you; Mac's all right; come out and meet them."

We went out together; as we did the corporal commanded:

"Go to the right; shoot your man if you can, if not, use your bayonet."

I fired and missed. I met the lowered lance with my bayonet, and, like a fool, turned it up; the spahi let it go and swung the heavy butt downwards and to his right rear. I could not avoid the blow; it took me fairly on the breast, sending me to the ground. As he pulled at the reins to get his charger back I heard a sharp report, followed by another: my enemy collapsed and fell. As I rose painfully to my feet, feeling as if a ton weight were laid upon my chest, Giulia caught me in her arms and asked with anxiety if I were hurt. "Not much," I answered: "but where are the others?" I saw Mac a few paces away aiming at a retiring spahi; turning round I saw the English corporal wiping his bayonet; near him lay a dead soldier. On the plain at various distances lay men and horses; farther off than these the remains of the spahis had assembled--one mounted and three dismounted men.

"What happened to you, mon camarade?" said the corporal.

"Oh," I replied, "like a fool I turned the lance up instead of down; he then struck me with the butt, and Giulia shot him just in time to save me."

"It seems to me," said the corporal, speaking in French, "that Madame Julie is always saving your life."

"Yes," I replied, smiling; "and I would rather owe it to her than to anyone else."

We were now quite satisfied. It was absolutely impossible for the four survivors to attack us with any hope of success owing to our weapons. They were quite aware of this; in fact, they were in difficulties now, for the question arose for them: How were they to get back to the cantonment? Their horses were dead or wounded, for all we knew the men might be wounded as well, and the spahis could not by any chance like the prospect of meeting in the desert any of their co-religionists who had remained unsubdued.

One thing we had to do, and do quickly. This was to get away as far as possible from the remnants of the spahis. If we remained in their vicinity until darkness came we should lose all the advantage of our superior weapons, and we were well aware that the native troops are daring and skilful fighters with cold steel. Moreover, it is the Arab nature to lust for vengeance, especially on Christians, though our Christianity was of a rather shadowy nature, more than to love even his life, and these men had sufficient reason to hate us. Accordingly we mounted and turned our weary horses' heads again towards the south, going at an easy pace, and now and again looking back to see if there were new pursuers on our track. When we had gone some distance and had lost sight of the defeated spahis, the corporal said: "Let us turn to the right; if new men have come up to the others, they will go due south." The advice seemed good, so we went westwards for about two hours, and then halted to rest ourselves and our horses. We were very thirsty now, but Mac told us to our great delight that he had taken two water bottles from dead spahis.

"Why did you not tell us before?" asked the corporal.

"I thought it best to wait, and, besides," he answered, "I was thinking more about pursuit than about even the water."

We very soon half emptied one, Giulia getting the first and largest drink, and then we poured into this bottle the contents of the spirit flask that Giulia had brought.

"Now, madame," said the corporal, "you shall have the bottle of water for yourself, we will be satisfied with the other."

This was a very good arrangement. Giulia did not like _eau-de-vie_ and we did; moreover, Giulia wanted more liquid in the desert than three veteran campaigners.

At about two o'clock in the morning we set out again, and travelled very slowly in a south-westerly direction. Our horses were beginning to show signs of failing, and we eagerly scanned the desert all around us after the sun had risen to try to discover signs of an oasis or even of a caravan. Our steeds would soon give up the struggle, that we knew, and we could scarcely hope to keep it up on foot for more than twenty-four hours. Now one must not imagine that we were hopeless. On the contrary, we felt that fortune, having befriended us so long, would not now abandon us. We thought of the difficulties surmounted in the escape and of the good fight which we had made against our pursuers, and with such recent memories our spirits could not be cast down. We had a little food, a little drink, good weapons, and enough of ammunition. We knew that every man could trust his comrades, and so, while our horses lasted, and for at least a day afterwards, we could laugh at Fate.

So we jogged along for some time after dawn, rested for an hour, and then pushed on again. About midway between sunrise and noon Mac, whose eyes were as keen as a vulture's, cried out:

"At last, boys, at last; look yonder."

We looked, and saw a slowly-moving object. There was no doubt about what it was, our path would soon intersect that of a caravan. When the parties met one of two things would be our portion--safety or death--for, if we could not get water and food in hospitable fashion, we had no resource but to fight for them, and desert fights are serious.