Chapter LXVII: The Beginning of the End

And so, at last, we come to the end of that titanic struggle in the East--so far, that is, as we are directly concerned in it.

It was in the first days of September, just twelve months after the Modern Armada sailed from Varna in hopes of settling matters out of hand, that the great bombardment opened; the earth shook and the heavens shuddered, and men grown used to the sound of big guns were amazed at the hideous uproar. Fifteen hundred of the heaviest guns in existence thundered back and forth in concert, and the hot hail of more than half of them rained ceaselessly on the stricken town. The sky was hidden by the smoke, and through the smoke, along with the bursting shells, shot flights of fiery rockets to add to the inferno inside.

Within that fiery pale no soul ventured forth. Jim and Greski paced their gloomy quarters like restless animals--hopeful of the end, doubtful what it might entail. The women sat in corners in momentary expectation of death.

All who could go had crossed the harbour to the safety of the northern heights. Greski, as the result of many discussions with Jim, had resolved to stay where he was and trust to luck and the Allies.

For four days and nights the doomed city suffered that most awful scourging, and then there came a lull, and the taut-strung men in the cellar looked meaningly at one another. And presently they crept cautiously out into the sulphurous upper air, just as day was breaking.

"It is ended," said Greski, for the low thick clouds of smoke rolling over the town were all aglow with the flames of burning buildings. Wherever they turned, fresh fires were bursting out. And as they stood looking, a mighty explosion shook the earth and half a dozen shattered houses near at hand came crashing into the street.

Another tremendous explosion, and another and another.

"It is all over," said Greski quietly again. "They are blowing up the bastions and burning the town. That, I know, was decided on long since, if it came to the point. Moscow over again."

From where they were they could not see the explosions and they did not dare to venture far. But presently all the harbour was red with the blaze of burning ships, and they could see the new bridge of boats, leading across to the north side, black with crowds of hurrying fugitives. Then Fort Nicholas below them burst into flame, and the smoke from Fort Paul, just across from it, rolled along the roadstead. It was a most amazing scene, beyond description, almost beyond imagination.

The firing had ceased with the blowing up of the bastions. Up on the heights the besiegers clustered thick as bees, watching with awe the results of their long and arduous labours. Below them a thin trickle of creeping looters was already making its way through the ruined suburbs into the burning city.

Jim and Greski returned to their cellar; Jim to fig himself out in the remains of his uniform, Greski to collect such of the family valuables as could be easily carried; and then, with madame and Tatia on their arms, they set off, by devious ways which avoided burning and tottering buildings, crossed the black desolation of the southern suburbs, and came out on this side of the Quarantine Ravine, nearly opposite the cemetery.

The looters, mostly red-trousered Zouaves, looked askant at Jim's uniform and slipped past quietly. All they wanted was plunder, and they feared to be stopped. How this young English Hussar officer had managed to get in so quickly puzzled them, but he had evidently got all he wanted. So--_allons, mes enfants!_ and let us lay hands on all we can, before the rest of our brave allies arrive!

Jim knew his way as soon as they had been passed through the lower trenches, and made straight for his father's tent. The camps were almost empty. Everyone was down at the front staring at the burning town. Outside the well-known tent in the hollow, however, an orderly was hard at work scraping the mud off his master's overcoat.

"Where is Colonel Carron?" asked Jim expectantly.

But the man looked back at him stolidly and said, "I do not know, monsieur."

"But this is his tent."

"Monsieur is mistaken. This is the tent of M. the Colonel Gerome--if he is still alive, _man Dieu!_ He went into Malakoff yesterday and we have not seen him since."

"And where is Colonel Carron, then?"

"I do not know, monsieur. It is only three months since I came out. Is it all over, as they say?"

"We have Sebastopol," said Jim, "or part of it." And he quickly pushed on along the road to French Head-quarters.

A squadron of lancers came down the road at a fast trot, gleaming in the sun and jingling bravely. Their leader looked curiously at the odd little company, for ladies were refreshingly rare in camp. Then he suddenly drew rein and saluted, and Jim knew him. They had met many times in the tent in the hollow.

"You, M. Carron? Why, we gave you up for dead long ago!"

"Where is my father, du Bourg? I've been to his tent----"

"_Mon Dieu!_--and you have not heard? I am sorry to have to tell it, but you would have to hear. Colonel Carron was killed six months ago, repulsing a sortie." And, as he saw Jim's face fall, he added: "If you have had no news for six months, _mon ami_, be prepared for the worst. You will find very few of your friends left. Where have you been?"

"Prisoner inside since December."

"_Mon Dieu!_ you've had hard luck! Weil, I must get on or our lively red-legs won't leave a stick in Sebastopol. We've been doing all we could to get in, and now my orders are to let no one in on any account. Adieu!" And they went off at a clanking gallop to make up for lost time.

Jim set off again in gloomy spirits for British Head-quarters on the other side of the Balaclava road.

Jack gone! His father gone! George Herapath and Ralph Harben gone. His little world seemed devastated. He wondered if any of the home folk were left.

Gracie--Good God!--suppose Gracie were dead! And Charles Eager, and Sir Denzil! In six months anything might have happened to any or all of them.

Tatia was the only fairly cheerful member of the party. To her it was like heaven to be out of that dreadful prison-house below. She had grown so used to the smell of gunpowder that the keen sweet air intoxicated her with delight. Her mother was very weary with the long walk; and as for Greski, his thigh was giving him pain, and the only thing he wanted now was to sit down and rest it.

Except for the sentries and a few underlings, British Head-quarters was deserted like the rest of the camp. All the world was down at the front, watching the end of Sebastopol. So they sat on a bench in the sunshine, and waited for some one to turn up.

The first to come was McLean, the young doctor with whom Jim had crossed to Constantinople on the _Carnbrea_. He was looking older, but well and cheerful.

"Hello!" he cried, as soon as his eyes lighted on Jim. "It's good to set eyes on some one alive that one knew six months ago. Where have you been all this time? I see you've suffered too"--with a glance at the empty sleeve.

"Been in Sebastopol for last nine months. Glad to get out."

"About as glad as we are to get in. Going home, I suppose?"

"Just as quick as I can. Come to report myself, but there's no one to report to."

"All at the front, I suppose. It's a great day this. We're shipping off loads of sick men as fast as we can fit them for the voyage. Our old friend Jolly's in Balaclava Bay. He'd be delighted to take you, I know, if you can fix matters up quickly here."

"Things any better than they used to be?"

"Oh, we're all learning by experience. Even the red-tape isn't as red as it used to be; it's not much more than pink now. We've got everything we need for the sick, anyway, and that's something. By the way, there was a man here inquiring for you a short time ago--came out on purpose, I believe, and brought a shipload of just the things we were needing most."

"Oh? Who was that?"

"A lean-faced chap--a parson, and better than most. What was his name now?--Earnest--Eager? that was it--Charles Eager."

"Eager? The dear old chap! Just like him! How long since?"

"Oh, months--four or five at least. Here's the Chief!"--as a thin, quiet-looking man with a tired face rode up with a couple of aides, saluted the little party, and went inside.

"Sick men first," said Jim; and McLean nodded, and went in.

He was back again in five minutes. "Come down to me at Balaclava as soon as you're ready," he said, "and I'll help you on. I'll have a word with Jolly too." And he sped away.

General Simpson greeted Jim, when at last he was admitted, with simple kindliness but evident preoccupation. His hands and mind were very full at the moment, and Jim's only desire was to get on towards home. All his requests were granted without hesitation, the necessary papers were promised him before night, and they set off again, first to the cavalry camp, whose location he had learned from one of the aides, and then to the railway which lay a little beyond.

At the camp he came across his own orderly, who greeted him with a mixture of jovial delight at meeting again an openhanded friend and master, and of deferential awe at encountering one returned from the dead.

"Quite thought you was dead, sir," said he, with a big shy smile.

"I've been next door to it once or twice, Jones. Where's my horse?"

"Ah, then! Dear knows, sir! The French gentleman took him to's own quarters an' I never set eyes on him since."

"Ah! Anybody left here that I know? Denham?"

"Lord Charles Denham, he died six, seven months ago the fever, sir."

"Mr. Kingsnorth?

"Invalided home in the winter, sir."

"Captain Warren?"

"Killed in the rifle-pits while he was potting the Russians. There's hardly anybody left that was here when you was here sir, 'cept some of us men. You going home, sir?"

"As quick as I can, Jones. Here's a guinea for old times' sake. Good-bye!" And he went soberly on, feeling himself a stranger in a strange place and as one risen from the dead.

They got a lift on the railway, and Jim hardly knew Balaclava, so little of the old was left--just as in the camp up above. But he tumbled up against Captain Jolly almost at once, and then his difficulties were over.

"Take you?" cried the jovial master. "Take you all the way home if you like. My charter's up and I'm to get back as quick as the weather'll let me. Taking a cargo of broken pieces to Scutari, and then straight for Liverpool. Right! We'll find room for you all if we have to sleep in the bilge. Your servant, madam, and yours, miss! Glad to get away from all the noise and nastiness, I'll be bound. Come on board any time you like, Mr. Carron. Shipboard's a sight cleaner and more comfortable than any place you'll find ashore." And Jim felt happier than he had done for very many months back.