Chapter XX: Caught in a Trap

The reflections of the men who had been landed were bitter indeed as they began their first day in the Crimea. The morning was rough and boisterous. The sea was breaking on the shore with a thundering roar, and the wind was blowing half a hurricane.

A mournful procession of bearers carrying litters were making their way down to the beach. On the litters, their faces covered with their blankets, were the poor fellows who had died of cholera, aggravated by exposure, during the night. They were to be taken out to sea for burial.

In spite of the rough sea the disembarkation was proceeded with; but it was not until the afternoon, when the violence of the storm had somewhat abated, that the rest of the cavalry and the artillery could be landed.

The next day the whole of the cavalry went out on small reconnaissances; but no signs of any enemy could be seen. The weather improved, and that night, over their camp-fires, the men felt much more cheerful.

Jack and Will were both engaged making coffee at a big fire, round which some score of sun-tanned troopers were sitting or lying, when the regimental sergeant-major came up to them; and, seeing Sergeant Barrymore, said the adjutant wanted him at once. He was not away long.

‘Boys,’ he said on his return, ‘our troop and A, with two troops of the 8th and 11th, parade at three in the morning to feel our way towards the enemy and to bring in forage. See to your arms and saddlery, for we shall very likely find some work to do.’

‘Hurrah!’ cried Will, ‘I shall get my chance of being under fire, Jack. I envy you the distinction of being first.’

‘Hum!’ snorted Sergeant Linham, taking his well-used pipe from his mouth, ‘those who are most eager to get under fire are often most eager to get under cover. Don’t run after danger, youngster; before you see England again you’ll have had a bellyful, I dare say.’

‘Well, I may funk it,’ said Will; ‘but if you see me trying to bolt, Jack, put a bullet in my brain. Don’t let me disgrace the regiment.’

‘I dare say I shall be too busy trying to find a hole for myself to crawl into,’ said Jack.

Sergeant Barrymore interrupted them by saying, ‘What’s all this talk of being afraid? If you’re anything like Blair, Hodson, we shall have something to do to keep you back. He’s a regular firebrand is Jack.’

At this there was a laugh, and Brandon, a well-educated young fellow, who had been an actor before he enlisted, and who always had an apt quotation ready, said, ‘England, I love thee well!

Where’s the coward would not dare
To fight for such a land?

Fear nothing, comrades; for as Will Shakespeare truly says:

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard
It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.’

‘Which is sound logic,’ said Sergeant Linham. ‘Now, however, let’s eat.’

The men, after having finished their supper, lit their pipes, wrapped themselves in their blankets, and slept soundly till the trumpets of the cavalry division, all too early, were heard ringing out the reveille. By three o’clock the troops taking part in the reconnaissance were mounted and ready, and, the 8th Hussars leading, moved out of the camp. Both the colonel and major of Jack’s regiment were ill, and the two troops were commanded by Captain Norreys, a man who had seen much service.

The advance was pretty slow till it began to get light, and then Captain Norreys eagerly scanned the country with his glasses. No sign of an enemy was to be seen, and the little column, less than a hundred and fifty in all, proceeded for some miles through a country almost destitute of tree or shrub, till they reached some hillocks, which they crossed and then entered a more fertile country. A halt was made for breakfast; then the Hussars and Lancers divided up, and each under its own commander was instructed to gather what forage it could.

Jack’s regiment went away to the extreme right and was successful in finding plenty of forage, which was loaded on the horses. So plentiful was the supply that first a large quantity of it was collected; then the different troops were assembled, and one-half the Hussars and Lancers loaded up and went back to camp, after a corporal and two men had been previously despatched at a trot to ask for another two troops to come out and collect what remained. Captain Norreys, leaving a score of men to guard the forage left behind and to wait till their companions should return from the camp, then led the rest of his mixed force on an extended reconnaissance, being very anxious to see more of the country, and if possible to discover traces of the enemy.

Once or twice a fur-capped Cossack, sitting hunched up on his shaggy pony, the head of his lance glittering in the sun, was observed upon the heights in front; but at first sight of the gaily accoutred English light-horsemen he vanished as if by magic.

‘Why don’t the beggars stop and show a bold face?’ said Will to Jack, both the trumpeters and Sergeant Linham being with Captain Norreys.

‘I should like to get close enough to some of them to ask them,’ replied Jack.

‘Mind you don’t get too close to ’em,’ growled Sergeant Linham with a near approach to a smile.

They reached a good-sized village, around which were a number of cattle, and Captain Norreys halted his force and sought out the headman to open negotiations for the purchase of the cattle, for fresh beef was much in demand. The headman was one who never did things in a hurry, and who, moreover, had heard that the Allies were actually paying, and paying well too, for all they took. So he determined to make the most of his opportunity.

Captain Norreys and the commander of the Hussars were invited into the headman’s house to take tea while terms were discussed, and the men were told they could dismount and procure what food the villagers liked to give them, but that they were to use no violence. Several men were ordered to remain mounted and to keep a sharp lookout around to see they were not surprised.

Larry O’Callaghan, who was with the small party of the 8th Hussars, was left with the mounted sentries to sound the alarm in case of necessity.

Jack and Will, with Sergeant Linham and Private Pearson, dismounted, and, tying their horses to the trees in a small orchard, made for a fair-sized house in the hope of getting something to eat. The master, a short, stout, disagreeable-looking Tartar, met them on the doorstep, and in very voluble language, of which of course not one of the four could understand a word, opposed their entrance.

On this Sergeant Linham drew himself up to his full height, and twirling his heavy moustache said, ‘Ha, hum! you ugly, snub-nosed, cross-eyed son of a gun, we’re British soldiers representing Queen Victoria. Stand aside and allow us to enter, or we shall exercise the right of soldiers in an enemy’s country and help ourselves.’

The grandiloquent fashion in which these words were uttered seemed to have some effect upon the Tartar; possibly the sergeant’s piercing eyes and beak-like nose, together with the medals on his breast and the gold chevrons on his arms, had more, for the Tartar’s next words sounded less harsh. He did not, however, move from the door.

The worthy sergeant, tapping the hilt of his sabre, continued, ‘You thieving old rogue, do you dare to stand there still, barring our progress? Don’t you understand that by doing so you’re defying me, and through me the whole army, and through the army Britain itself? You putty-faced rat, you’re dealing with a man who’s fought in two campaigns and knows the usages of war--ha, hum!’ and the sergeant gave a terrific snort.

The snort completely overcame the Tartar, who, bowing low, stood aside, and Sergeant Linham, carrying himself with the air of a general at least, entered the house, while the other three followed behind, almost bursting themselves in their efforts to restrain their laughter.

They went into a large, stone-flagged room, and Sergeant Linham, pointing to the table, then made signs that he and his companions were hungry and that they wanted food. The man shook his head violently; but Sergeant Linham was not to be denied.

‘Look round the place, boys,’ he said, ‘and see if you can find any prog. We are willing to pay for it; but something to eat we must have. We’re soldiers in the enemy’s country, and we’ve a right to what we can find; at least we had in India, and what was good enough there is good enough here--ha, hum!’

In a hen-roost behind the farm the two trumpeters found a lot of eggs, and these they promptly annexed. Pearson, who had joined them, noticed a large barn, and he suggested they should put their horses in there, which they proceeded to do. Then they went into the house with their eggs, which Sergeant Linham made signs to the man that he should have fried. Some bacon was produced, and a sullen-looking Tartar maid set about cooking the same. Coffee was made, and the meal was being rapidly prepared when a tremendous uproar was heard outside, and a little, thin, horribly ugly woman, who was clearly the mistress of the house, bounced in. Her husband had seemed voluble, but he was as nothing compared with his gentle spouse. She stormed, roared, jumped, shook her skinny fists in the faces of the Lancers, and finally attempted to snatch the pan from the fire; but this Sergeant Linham positively refused to let her do.

He caught hold of her to prevent her, when she turned on him like a fury and scored his face with her nails.

‘For Heaven’s sake, boys, take this she-demon away,’ he yelled; but the woman held on, scratching and clawing and calling out apparently to her husband to assist her. He, however, kept in the background, until the woman, from sheer exhaustion, left off fighting and talking, and bounced out of the room.

The sergeant’s dislike of women was well known, and the trumpeters could not conceal their amusement at the scene, though they were sorry for poor Linham.

‘The old toad, the old vixen,’ he grunted; ‘faugh, she was like a mad monkey!’ He then advanced towards the master of the house, and said solemnly, pointing towards the door, ‘Go, you candle-faced barbarian, and keep that iron-clawed virago away till we’ve fed, or by all the saints in the Russian calendar I’ll cut off your ears,’ and he whipped out his sword as he spoke.

The man fled, and, the food being then placed upon the table, the four sat down and ate a hearty meal. While they were eating, Jack noticed a cunning-eyed lad, in a sheep’s-wool hat and wearing an orange-coloured sash, who came in and peeped at them and then slunk away. This boy went off to the stable, mounted a little pony, and trotted off towards the hills in the rear of the house. Meanwhile the Lancers, enjoying the good cheer, laughed and joked gaily.

Sergeant Linham and Pearson then lit up their pipes and passed a comfortable half-hour, while Jack and Will explored the house, seeing no one about. The upper rooms were either bed or store rooms, and passing one Jack heard voices talking in low tones.

‘I wonder what they’re hatching in there?’ he said. ‘They seem to be talking in dead earnest.’

‘Pity we don’t understand the language,’ said Will.

The trumpeters’ voices had probably been heard inside, for all was silent till a footstep was heard crossing the room.

‘Hist!’ said Jack, holding up one finger; ‘I’m a Dutchman if there wasn’t a spur attached to the heel of that boot. I distinctly heard a jingle.’

The door was slightly open, and Will, peeping through the crack between the hinges, said, ‘There is a man in uniform in there; I can see him.’

‘Slip off down and bring up the sergeant,’ said Jack, drawing his sword. ‘I’ll see the beggar doesn’t escape.’

In a few seconds Sergeant Linham, with Pearson, appeared, and without any hesitation they all entered the room.

It seemed at first as if it were empty; at least, no one was to be seen. Then Jack perceived that a man was lying in bed, and a uniform and sword were on a chair beside it. He gazed at the red hair, snub-nose, and pale face of the man in bed, and in a way it seemed familiar. Will’s voice was then heard from the window.

‘Here’s the fellow I saw, he’s dropped out of the window;’ and, running over, they saw a man in a green uniform, embroidered with coarse orange-coloured cord, running across the yard in front of the house as fast as his legs would carry him.

‘Shall I fire at him?’ said Pearson, who had brought up his pistol.

‘No,’ said the sergeant; ‘let the miserable toad go, he’ll probably be captured by some of our fellows.’

They all turned to the bed, and saw the occupant thereof had reached his sword and drawn it, as if he feared some violence from the British soldiers.

‘You poor, deluded Russian monkey,’ said Linham in grandiloquent tones, ‘don’t you understand the laws of civilised warfare better than to think we should hurt a wounded man, for I judge by your face you are wounded? You must be an ignorant beast not to know us English better--ha, hum!’

The Russian seemed to construe these words into a sort of threat, for he made a point with his sword, of which the sergeant, disapproving of such conduct, promptly deprived him. In so doing he saw the man’s shoulder and chest were bound in a bandage, confirming his suspicion that he was wounded.

Jack, who had been looking at the uniform on the chair, suddenly exclaimed, ‘It’s the very dress worn by those fellows who were escorting the convoy we took just after we landed.’

‘That’s it,’ cried Pearson; ‘I thought I knew that squab face. Why, this is the chap who tried to blow your brains out, and whom I ran through.’

The Lancers and the Russian stared at one another, and it was clear the recognition was mutual. The wounded Cossack captain, for that was his rank, scowled most evilly at the four soldiers, and there was fear, too, in his eyes, for he clearly expected to be either dragged off a prisoner or killed on the spot.

At that moment the lady of the house bounced into the room, and in very high, piercing tones, gesticulating madly all the while, attacked the Lancers.

‘For Heaven’s sake let us clear out of this,’ said Linham; ‘that old beldam would drive a stone image mad.’

They all made for the kitchen just as the cunning-eyed lad, whom Jack had noticed before, re-entered.

‘That’s a treacherous-looking young gentleman,’ said Pearson. ’ I’----

‘Hark! what’s that?’ cried Jack, placing his hand to his ear. ‘It’s a trumpet-call.’

_Tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan tarum!_ rang out the notes.

‘The alarm!’ cried all four at once. ‘Mount!’

They ran to the barn, and were all busy tightening girths when the door was banged-to behind them and the key turned in the lock. In the semi-darkness they threw themselves against the door. No good, it held fast.

‘Trapped!’ cried Jack angrily; ‘and our comrades, what of them?’