Chapter XLVII: Alma

At noon next day they came to a shallow river winding between red clay banks, a somewhat undignified stream whose name they were to blazon in letters of blood on the rolls of fame--the Alma.

The Russians were strongly entrenched on the hills on the other side and in great force, and every man knew that here was a giant struggle and glory galore for the winners.

It was a great fight, but it was mostly rifle and bayonet and the grim reaction from those deadly slow months at Varna. And the Engineers had little to do but watch the others, as they dashed through the muddy stream, and climbed the roaring heights in the face of death, and captured the great redoubt at dreadful cost. And the cavalry were miles away on the left, covering the attack on that side from five times their own weight of Russian cavalry, who never came on, and so they had nothing to do and were disgusted at being out of it.

So neither Jack nor Jim were in that fight, but afterwards they climbed the hill with separate searching parties and met by chance in the redoubt on top, and looked on sights unforgettable, which made a deep and grim impression on them both.

It was the first battlefield they had ever set eyes on, and they spoke very little.

"God! Isn't it awful?" said Jack through his teeth, as they stood looking down the hill towards the river flowing unconcernedly to the sea, just as it had done when they came to it at noon, just as it had done all through the dreadful uproar when men were falling in their thousands. The ground between was strewn and heaped and piled with dead bodies.

But Jim had no words for it. He could only shake his head.

While they were still gazing awe-stricken at the ghastly piles of broken men, among which the litter-men were prowling in anxious search for wounded, a group of brilliantly clad officers came up from the French camp, where the rows of comfortable white tents set English teeth grinding with envy and chagrin. And among them they saw Prince Napoleon and Colonel Carron.

Their father saw them in the redoubt and came up at once. "Glad to see you still alive, boys," he said cheerfully. "Hot work, wasn't it?"

"Awful, sir. Were you in it?" asked Jack.

"Oh yes. We came across there"--pointing to a burnt-out village on the river-bank--"and then up here. Here's where we got the guns up to relieve Bosquet. We've paid pretty heavily, but it's shown them what we're made of. You weren't in it, I suppose, Jim?"

"No sir; we were waiting over yonder for some cavalry to come on, but they wouldn't. Worse luck!"

"Your chances will come, my boy. And you, Jack?"

"We had very little to do, sir. We were away in the rear there."

"Your men did splendidly. Canrobert was just saying that he doubted if our men would have managed that frontal business as yours did."

"They paid," said Jim.

"And are still paying," said the Colonel, as they stood watching the French ambulances, with their trim little mules, trotting off towards the coast, carrying a dozen wounded men in quick comfort, while the English litter-men crept slowly along on their jogging four-mile tramp, which proved the death of many a sorely wounded man and purgatory to the rest.

"Truly, your arrangements are not up to the mark." said Colonel Carron. "How have you stood the nights? Somebody was saying you had no tents."

"Last night was the first time we've had any, and they've all been sent on board again," said Jack gloomily.

"That's too bad. It's hard on the men."

"We lose a number every night with the cold."

"Bad management---- The Prince is off. I must go. Good luck to you, boys! I shall come over and look you up from time to time. Keep out of mischief!" And he waved a cheery hand and was gone, and the boys went down among the ghastly piles to do what they could.

But it was heart-breaking work; the total of misery was so immense, and the means of alleviation so feeble in comparison.

The French wounded were safe on board ship within an hour after they were picked up. It was two days before all the English were disposed of, though every man who could be spared set his hand to the work.

In the afternoon of the second day after the fight, Jim was going wearily down the hill, after such a time among the dead and wounded as had made him almost physically sick.

All the French, and he thought almost all the English, wounded had been seen to. The Russians had necessarily been left to the last.

As he passed a grisly pile he thought he caught a faint groan from inside it, and set to work at once hauling the dead men apart, with tightened face and repressed breath. The job was neither pleasant nor wholesome, but there was no one else near at hand and he must see to it.

Right at the bottom of the pile, soaked with the blood of those who had fallen on top of him, he came upon a young fellow, an officer, just about his own age. And as he dragged the last body off him, he opened his eyes wearily and groaned.

Jim put his pocket-flask to the white lips, and the other sucked eagerly and a touch of colour came into his face. He lay looking up into the face bending over him, and then his chest filled and he sighed.

"Where are you hurt?" asked Jim, expecting no answer, but full of sympathy.

"Leg and side," said the wounded one, in English with an accent.

"I'll fetch a litter."

"Stay moment. Only dead men--two days. Good to see a live one. . . . Did you win?"

"Yes, we won, but at very heavy cost."

"Glad you won."

"That doesn't sound good," said honest Jim, with disfavour.

"You would feel same. Hate Russians. . . . Pole."

"I see," said Jim, whose history was nebulous, but equal to the occasion.

"Forced to fight," said the wounded man. "Done with it now."

"Take some more rum--it'll warm you up; and I'll find a litter for you."

"Have you bread? I starve. . . ."

"I'll see if I can get you something."

"Open his roll." And the wounded man turned his eyes hungrily on the nearest dead body. And Jim, opening the linen roll which each Russian carried, found a lump of hard black bread and placed it in his hand.

"I thank. You will come again?" asked the young Pole anxiously.

"I'll come back all right, as soon as I've found a litter." And he left the wounded man feebly gnawing his chunk of black bread like a starving dog.

He found a litter in time, and the weary eyes brightened a trifle at sight of him.

"You are good," he murmured. "You save me."

And Jim, thinking what he would like himself in similar case, went along by his side till they found a doctor resting for a moment, and begged him to examine the new-comer.

"His leg must go. The body wound will heal," said the medico. "Seems to have had a bad time. Where did you find him?"

"I found him under fifteen dead men."

"Then he owes you his life."

"Yes, yes," said the wounded one "I am grateful. Take the leg off."

"He's a Pole, forced to fight against his will," said Jim, at the doctor's astonishment.

"I see"--as he screwed a tourniquet on the shattered limb. "We're sending all their wounded to Odessa."

At which the young man groaned.

"Hold his hand," said the doctor. "He's pretty low." And Jim held the twitching hand while the knife and the saw did their work, and was not sure whether it was his hand that jumped so or the other's.

The other hand suddenly lay limp in his, and he thought the man was dead.

"Fainted," said the doctor. "He's been bleeding away for two days."

He came round, however, and tried to smile when he saw Jim still there. And presently he murmured:

"I thank." And then he looked down at his hand all caked with blood, and tried feebly to get a ring off his finger.

"Take!" he said. But Jim shook his head.

"Yes, yes." And he wrestled feebly again with the ring.

"Better humour him," said the doctor. "It'll do him more good than to refuse."

So Jim worked the ring off for him, and slipped it on his own finger, and the wounded man said "I thank!" and lay back satisfied.

Jim saw him carried down to the boat and wished him luck, and then strode away to his own quarters, which consisted of a seat on the side of a dry ditch--dry at present, but which would be soaking with dew before morning--with his brown horse picketed alongside, as hungry and low-spirited as his master.

Jim looked at his ring and thought of its late owner, and hoped he would get over it, and wondered how soon his own turn would come. For the thing that amazed him was that any single man could come alive out of a fight like that at the Alma.

His horse nuzzled hungrily at him, and he suddenly bethought him of the black bread in the Russians' linen rolls. He jumped up, tired as he was, and trode away to the battlefield again, and came back with chunks of hard tack and black bread enough to make his brown and some of his neighbours happy for the night.

Marshal St. Arnaud, sore sick as he was, was eager to press on at once after the discomfited Russians. But "an army marches on its stomach," and it was two full days before Lord Raglan could make a move. Those two lost days might have changed the whole course of the campaign, and saved many thousands of lives. The defective organisation of the British transport and commissariat slew more than all the Russian bullets.

On the third morning, as the sun rose all the trumpets, bugles, and drums in the French army pealed out from the summit of the captured hill, and presently the allied armies were _en route_ again for Sebastopol.

The next day, however, saw a sudden change of plans and a most remarkable happening. The allied chiefs gave up the idea of attacking the town from the north, on which side all preparations had been made for their reception, and decided, instead, to march right round and take it on its undefended south side. And so began that famous flank march to Balaclava which was to turn all the defences of the fortress.

And on that selfsame day the Russian chief, Menchikoff, decided to march out of Sebastopol into the open, and so turn the flank of the allies. And the two lines of march crossed at Mackenzie's farm.

The Russians had got out first, however, and it was only their rear-guard upon whom the English chanced, and immediately fell, and put to rout. They chased them for several miles and took their military chest and great booty of baggage which, being left to the men as lawful prize, cheered them greatly.

When Jim got back from the chase the new owners were offering for sale dazzling uniforms, and decorations, and handsome fur coats, at remarkable prices. He had no yearning for Russian uniforms or decorations, but as he suffered much from the cold of a night he bought two of the wonderful coats for five pounds each, and, when they halted, he sought out Jack and made him happy with one of them.