Jack Archer by G. A. HentyA Tale of the Crimea (page 4)

“I’m sorry to say, my young friend,” the doctor said to Jack, for Dick had now gone off in a quiet doze, “that the affair has assumed a very serious aspect. The count is dead. He recovered consciousness before he died, and denounced you both as having made a sudden and altogether unprovoked attack upon him. He had, he affirmed, discovered that you were meditating a breach of your parole, and that he had informed you that the privileges extended to you would, therefore, be withdrawn. Then, he said, transported by rage, you sprang upon him. He drew his sword and attempted to defend himself, but the two of you, closing with him, hurled him through the window, in spite of his struggles.”

The other officer had, while the doctor was speaking, been examining the writing-table.

“I do not see the papers he spoke of,” he said to the doctor.

Then, turning to the sergeants of the guard, he asked if any papers upon the table had been touched. The sergeant replied that no one had gone near the table since he had entered the room.

“In that case,” the officer said, “his mind cannot have been quite clear, although he seemed to speak sensibly enough. You heard him order me, doctor, to fold up a report and attesting statement directed to the Minister of the Interior, and to post them immediately? It is clear that there are no such documents here. I entered the room with the sergeant almost at the moment when the struggle ended, and as no one has touched the table since, it is clear that they cannot have been here. Perhaps I may find them on the table downstairs. It is now,” he said, turning to Jack, “my duty to inform you that you are in custody for the deliberate murder of Count Smerskoff, as sworn to by him in his last moments.”

“He was a liar when he was alive,” Jack said, “and he died with a falsehood on his lips. However, sir, we are at your orders.”

A stretcher was brought in, Dick was placed upon it, and under a guard the midshipmen were marched to the prison, the soldiers with difficulty keeping back the crowd who pressed forward to see the English prisoners who had murdered the governor.

Doctor Bertmann walked with Jack to the prison door. Upon the way he assured Jack that he entirely believed his version of the story, as he knew the governor to be a thoroughly bad man.

“Singularly enough,” he said, “I had intended to see you to-day. I went back to Sebastopol on the very day after you arrived here, with a regiment marching down, and left again with a convoy of wounded after only two days’ stay there. I got here last night, and I had intended coming out to call upon you at Count Preskoff’s to-day. You would, no doubt, like me to see him at once, and inform him of what has taken place.”

Jack said that he would be very much obliged, if he would do so.

“I will return this afternoon to see my patient,” Doctor Bertmann said, as they parted, “and will then bring you news from the count, who will, no doubt, come to see you himself.”

The cell to which the boys were conducted was a small one, and horribly dirty. Jack shrugged his shoulders, as he looked at it.

“It is not fit for a pig,” he said to himself. “After all, Russia is not such a pleasant place as I thought it yesterday.”

When they were left alone, Jack set to work to cheer up his companion, who was weak, and inclined to be despondent from the loss of blood which he had suffered.

“At any rate, old boy,” Jack said, in reply to Dick’s assertion of his conviction that they would be shot, “we shall have the satisfaction that we have procured the safety of our friends at the chateau. Now that their enemy is gone, the count will no doubt be let alone. It was dreadful to think what would have become of the countess and the three girls if their father had been sent to Siberia, and they turned out penniless. Besides, old fellow, we are a long way from being dead yet. After all, it is only the governor’s word against ours, and you may be sure that the count will move heaven and earth to bring matters right.”

It was dusk before the doctor returned.

“I have seen the count,” he said, “and the ladies and he were greatly distressed at my news. It is plain to see that you are prime favorites. The young ladies were very Niobes. The count was most anxious to learn all particulars, but I could only tell him that you asserted the governor had attacked you first. He drove in at once, and made no doubt that he should be allowed to see you. In this, however, he was disappointed, and indeed you have had a most fortunate escape. The officer second in command here is a relative of the late governor. Fortunately he was absent this morning, and only returned this afternoon. Like the late count he is of a violent and passionate temper, and when he heard the news swore that had he been here, he would have instantly had you brought out and shot in the square. Indeed, it was with difficulty that the other officers dissuaded him from doing so upon his return. He has ordered that a court-martial shall assemble to-morrow, and that you shall be at once tried and executed.”

“But surely,” Jack said, “no court-martial of officers would find us guilty. The count’s violent temper was notorious, and it is against all reason that two unarmed men should make an attack upon one armed with a sword, and within call of assistance. You yourself know, Doctor Bertmann, that the reason which he alleged for the attack is a false one, as we were not asked for our parole.”

“I am, of course, aware of that,” the doctor said, “and should attend to give evidence, but the case is a doubtful one. The officers of our line regiments are, for the most part, poor and friendless men. Promotion is almost entirely by favoritism, and it would need a very considerable amount of courage and independence to give a verdict in the teeth of their commanding officer. In the next place, for I have heard them talking it over among themselves, there is a sort of feeling that, for the honor of the Russian army, it is almost necessary that you should be found guilty, since it would throw discredit upon the whole service were it published to the world that two unarmed young English officers had been attacked with a sword by a Russian officer of rank.”

“Then things look rather badly for us,” said Jack. “Well, it can’t be helped, you know, and the count will, no doubt, write to our people at home, to tell them the truth of the case.”

“Oh,” said the doctor, “you must not misunderstand me. I only said that the new commandant had ordered that you should be tried by court-martial, but that is a very different thing from its being done. We must get you out of prison to-night.”

“You speak very confidently,” Jack said, laughing, “but how is it to be done?”

“Oh,” answered the doctor, “there is no great difficulty on that score. It may be taken as certain that as a rule every Russian official, from the highest to the lowest, is accessible to a bribe, and that no prisoner with powerful friends outside need give up hope. This is a military prison. The soldiers at the gate are open to imbibe an unlimited amount of vodka, whoever may send it. The officer in command of them will be easily accessible to reasons which will induce him to shut his eyes to what is going on. Your warder here can of course be bought. The count is already at work, and as his means are ample, and, although under a cloud at present, his connections powerful, there is little fear that he will fail in succeeding. By the way I have news to tell you. Do you hear the bells tolling? The news has arrived that Nicholas is dead. Alexander, our new Czar, is known to be liberally disposed, and, were there time, the count would go to St. Petersburg, obtain an audience with him, and explain the whole circumstances, which, by the way, he has related to me. This, of course, is out of the question, and even were there time for him to go and return, it would not be possible for him to obtain an audience with the new emperor just at present.”

“I wish it could have been so,” Jack said. “Of course Dick and I will be glad enough to avail ourselves of the chances of escape, for it would be foolish to insist upon waiting to be tried by a tribunal certain beforehand to condemn us. Still, one doesn’t like the thought of making one’s escape, and so leaving it to be supposed that we were conscious of guilt.”

“Oh,” the doctor said, “you need not trouble yourself upon that score. The governor was hated by every one, and no one really doubts that he attacked you first. Upon the contrary, the population are inclined to look upon you as public benefactors. There will then be no feeling against you here, but even if there were, it would make but little difference. At present every one in Russia is talking and thinking of nothing but the death of the Czar, and of the changes which may be made by his son, and the details of a squabble in an obscure town will attract no attention whatever, and will not probably even obtain the honor of a paragraph in the Odessa papers. The first thing for us to do is to get your friend into a fit state to walk. How do you feel?” he asked, bending over Dick and feeling his pulse.

“Ever so much better,” Dick said cheerfully, “since I have heard from you that there is a chance of escape. I have been fretting so at the thought that I have got Jack into such a wretched mess by my folly in telling the governor that I knew of his treachery. If it had been only myself, I shouldn’t have cared.”

“Why, my dear Dick,” Jack said cheerfully, “I never dreamt of blaming you, and if you hadn’t spoken out, I have no doubt I should have done so. No, no, old fellow, whatever comes of it, don’t you blame yourself.”

“Can you stand, do you think?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, I think so,” Dick said; and rising, he managed to totter across the cell.

“That is all right,” the doctor said. “In a quarter of an hour you shall have a good dinner sent in from a restaurant. I have arranged for that. It is of course contrary to rule, but a few roubles have settled it. There will be supper, too, at eleven o’clock; there will also be a couple of bottles of first-rate Burgundy from the count’s cellar. You are to eat two good meals, and drink a third of a bottle at each of them. Your wounds are not in themselves serious, and the only thing that ails you is loss of blood. We must risk a little accession of fever for the sake of giving you strength. When you have had your supper, you had best both get to sleep, if you can, for an hour or two. Whatever arrangements we make will be for about two o’clock in the morning. And now good-bye for the present; keep up your spirits, and remember that even should any unexpected accident upset our plans for to-night, we will carry them out to-morrow night, as the court-martial will not take place till the afternoon, and there will be at least twenty-four, probably forty-eight hours, between the sentence and its execution.”

So saying, the doctor took his departure, leaving the lads far more cheerful and confident than they had been when he entered. He seemed indeed to regard the success of the attempt which would be made for their evasion as secured. The meal, which consisted of some strong and nourishing soup, and a dish of well-cooked meat, shortly arrived, and Dick, after partaking of it, and drinking his prescribed allowance of Burgundy, announced that he felt a man again, and ready for a tussle with the commandant. After his meal he dozed quietly, for some hours, until aroused by the arrival of supper which consisted again of soup with some poached eggs served on vegetables.

Jack had not tried to sleep, but had enjoyed a pipe which the doctor had, with tobacco, handed to him, his own having been confiscated upon his entrance into the prison. After supper, however, he threw himself upon the straw and slept soundly, until awakened by a hand being placed on his shoulder. He leaped to his feet, and saw the warder beside him. The man carried a lantern. The candle with which the boys had been furnished by the doctor’s arrangement had burned out. Jack aroused his comrade, and the two followed the warder, who led the way along the corridor and down the stairs into the courtyard of the prison.

The man did not walk with any particular caution, and the lads judged from his movements that he had no fear whatever of interruption. The door of the guard-room stood open, and by the light of the fire which blazed within, they could see the soldiers lying about in a drunken sleep. At the gate itself the sentry on duty was sitting on the ground with his back against a wall, and his musket beside him, in a heavy drunken sleep.

The warder unlocked the door, the key being already in the lock; the three issued out; the gate was closed and locked on the outside, and the key thrust under the gate. The warder then led the way through the streets, until he reached a small house near the outskirts. The door opened as their footsteps approached, and Count Preskoff came out.

“My dear boys,” he exclaimed embracing them as if he had been their father, “how much you have suffered for the sake of me and mine! Here,” he continued, turning to the warder, “is the reward I promised you. Go straight on to the chateau. You will find my coachman with a light carriage ready for starting. He will drive you twenty-five miles on your way, and you will then only have fifteen to walk before morning to the house of the woodman, your brother, where I hear you intend to remain hidden for the present. You can rely upon my protection after the affair has blown over. Now come in, lads, this is the house of a faithful serf of mine, who works here on his own account as an artisan, and you will be safe from interruption for the next hour or two.”

Upon entering the cottage, the midshipmen were surprised to find the countess and her daughters, who greeted them no less warmly than the count had done.

“My husband has told me all that you have done for us,” the countess said, “and how you first discovered the plot between the governor and that miserable traitor for our ruin. I have blamed him for hiding it from us at first, for surely a wife should know of the dangers to which her husband is exposed. Besides, I and my daughters would have remained ignorant of the obligation we owe you.”

“And to think of the way you took us in with the ponies,” Olga laughed. “Papa said that was your invention, Master Jack. That’s another score against you.”

“I hope,” Dick said, “that you are running no risks on our account, countess. I fear that there may be suspicions that the count has been concerned in our escape.”

“The deputy-commandant may suspect,” the count said, “but he can prove nothing. All in the chateau are, I believe, faithful, but even were they not, none know of our absence, as we did not leave until all were asleep, and shall return before daylight. Alexis will himself drive the warder to his destination. He has the best pair of horses, and will do the fifty miles in under four hours so that he will be back before any one is stirring. The others concerned will hold their tongues for their own sakes. The soldiers will not admit that they have been drunk, but will declare that no one has passed the gate. The lieutenant in charge will hang up the key on its hook in the guard-room, and will declare that every time he made his rounds he found the men alert and vigilant. It will therefore be supposed that the warder has let you out by a rope or in some other way. No doubt there will be a vigilant hue-and-cry in the morning, and the commandant will search every house, will keep a sharp watch over the chateau, and will scour the country for miles round. But it will die away in time. I wrote yesterday afternoon to my friends in St. Petersburg, urging them to obtain the appointment of some friend to this post. The party of reform will be in the ascendency in the counsels of the emperor, and I have every hope that I shall shortly be restored to favor at court, a matter, by the way, which I care for very much more for the sake of my daughters than for myself. The countess and I are well content with our life in the country, but the girls naturally look forward to the gayeties of life at the capital. Beside which,” he added, laughing, “I must be looking for husbands for them, and I fear that I should not find satisfactory suitors in this neighborhood.”

Jack could not help glancing at Olga, for, with a midshipman’s usual inflammatory tendency, he was convinced that he was hopelessly in love with that damsel. Olga colored, and then turned away, from which Jack could gain no indication favorable or otherwise for his hopes.

The count now explained the plans that had been adopted for their escape. “It would,” he said, “seem the natural course to aid you, as we have done the warder, by driving you far into the country. But the descriptions of you are sure to be sent to every place within fifty miles. I know no one to whom I could safely entrust you, and the doctor says that it is impossible that our friend Dick should walk for any distance for the next two or three days. The doctor has fortunately received orders to-day to start at daybreak this morning with a convoy going back to Sebastopol. No doubt the new commandant had heard that he was prepared to give evidence at the court-martial contradicting the governor’s statement that you were prisoners on parole, and therefore wished to get him out of the way. There are several of my carts which have been requisitioned for the service, in the convoy. I have here peasants’ dresses for you. These you will put on, and when the carts come along from the chateau half an hour before daybreak it is arranged that you will take the places of two of the drivers, who will at once return home. There will be no loading to do, as the carts will be laden with flour for the army before they leave to-night, so you will only have to go along with the others, and take your places in the convoy. After starting the doctor will come along the line, and seeing Dick limping, will order him to take his place in one of the carts under his immediate charge, with medicines and bedding for the hospitals. One driver more or less in a team of some hundreds of wagons all following each other along a straight road will not be noticed. So you will journey south for a week or so, until Dick has thoroughly recovered his strength. You had then, we think, better make to the west by the Odessa road. The doctor will take two uniforms, there are plenty obtainable in the hospital, for you to put on. You must of course run the risk of questioning and detection by the way, but this cannot be avoided, and at least you will be beyond the range of search from here, and will be travelling by quite a different road from that which you would naturally take proceeding hence. And now tell us all about your affair with the governor. We have only so far heard his version of the affair, which of course we knew to be false; but why he should have attacked you in the way he did, we cannot quite understand.”

Dick gave an account of the struggle and the causes which led to it, owning himself greatly to blame for his imprudence in acquainting the governor with his knowledge of his secret. He also gave full credit to Jack for his promptness, not only in seizing the governor and so saving a repetition of the blow, which would probably have been fatal, but also in destroying the report and forged evidence of Paul before interruption. The lads gained great credit with all for their gallantry, and Katinka said, laughing, “It is wrong to say so, I suppose, now he is dead, but I should like to have seen the count struggling as Jack carried him along, like a little ant with a great beetle.” They all laughed.

“Oh, come now,” Jack said; “there was not so much difference as all that. He was not over six feet, and I suppose I am only about five inches less, and I’m sure I was not much smaller round the shoulders than he was.”

“And now about your route,” the count said. “You must not lose time. Do you both quite agree with me that it would be next to impossible for you to pass through the lines of our army and to gain your own?”

“Quite impossible,” Dick agreed. “Jack and I have talked it over again and again, and are of opinion that it could not be done even in Russian uniforms. We should be liable to be questioned by every officer who met us as to the reason of our being absent from our regiment, and should be certain to be found out. We thought that it might be possible to get hold of a fishing-boat, and sail down to join the fleet. There would be of course the risk of being blown off the shore or becalmed, and it would be difficult to lay in a stock of provisions.”

“Besides,” the count said, “there is no blockade at Odessa, and our small war-steamers cruise up and down the coast, so that you would be liable to capture. No, I am sure your best way will be to go by land through Poland. There are still large bodies of troops to the southwest, facing the Turks, and it would be better for you to keep north of these into Poland. You can go as wounded soldiers on furlough returning home; and, being taken for Poles, your broken Russian will appear natural. I will give you a letter which the countess has written to the intendant of her estates in Poland, and he will do everything in his power.”

“I would rather not carry a letter,” Dick said, “for it would compromise you if we were taken. It would be better, if I might suggest, for the countess to write to him direct, saying that when two persons arrive and give some pass-word, say, for instance, the names of your three daughters, we shall not forget them, he is to give us any help we may require.”

This was agreed upon, and the party chatted until the count said that it was time for them to dress. Going into another room, the boys clad themselves in two peasant costumes, with the inseparable sheepskin coat which the Russian peasant clings to until the full heat of summer sets in, and which is, especially during a journey, invaluable. The count then insisted upon their taking a bundle of rouble notes to the value of 200 l., and upon their urging that they could have no possible need of so much money, he pointed out that there was no saying what emergencies might occur during their journey, and that after passing the frontier they would require a complete outfit, and would have to pay the expenses of their journey, either to England or the east, whichever they might decide upon. They rejoined the party in the front room just as a rumble of carts was heard approaching. There was a hasty parting. Father, mother, and daughters kissed the midshipmen affectionately. Jack squeezed Olga’s hand at parting, and in another minute they were standing in front of the door.

“Yours will be the last two carts,” the count said.

When these arrived opposite the house the count stepped forward and said a word to the drivers, who instantly fell behind, while the boys took up their places by the oxen and moved along with the procession of carts.

CHAPTER XVII.

A JOURNEY IN DISGUISE

The start was accomplished. Many hundreds of carts were assembled in the great square. A mounted officer and a small guard of soldiers had formed across the road which they were to follow, and as soon as daylight had fairly appeared he gave the word, and the carts began to file off along the southern road, an account being taken of each cart, as it passed out, by an officer on duty, to see that the number which had been requisitioned were all present. No question was asked of the boys.

As the driver of the first of those belonging to the count reported twelve carts, each laden with thirty sacks of flour supplied by Count Preskoff, the officer, seeing the number was correct, allowed them to pass without further question. Dick found himself still extremely weak, and could not have proceeded many hundred yards, if he had not taken a seat on the cart behind his oxen.

After two hours’ travelling there was a halt for a quarter of an hour, and the doctor, passing along, spoke to Dick, and then walked with him back along the line to the hospital carts which were in the rear. Here Dick took his place among some bales of blankets, and another was thrown over him, in such a way that his presence there would not be suspected by any one riding past the cart. Upon the train proceeding Jack took charge of the two carts. This was an easy task, the oxen proceeding steadily along without deviating from the line, and requiring no attention whatever beyond an occasional shout and a blow of the stick when they loitered and left a gap in the line.

Alongside the drivers walked in groups of three or four, talking together, and thus the fact that one of the wagons was without its driver passed unnoticed. Alexis had told the count’s serfs who accompanied the carts that their master had arranged at the last moment for hired men to take the places of two of their number, one of whom had a wife sick at home, and the other was engaged to be married shortly. He had also told them that it was their master’s wish that they should enter into no conversation with the strangers, as these were from a northern province, and scarcely understood the southern dialect.

Accustomed to obey every command of their master without hesitation, the serfs expressed no wonder even among themselves at an order which must have appeared somewhat strange to them. It was the count’s pleasure, and that was sufficient for them. At the end of the day, Dick rejoined his comrade, and assisted him to feed the oxen, who required no further attention except the removal of the yoke, when they lay down upon the ground and slept in their places. Dick brought him a supply of cold meat and white bread, and a bottle of wine; and the lads, choosing a place apart from the others, enjoyed their meal heartily, and then, climbing up on to the top of their flour sacks, wrapped themselves in their sheepskins and were soon sound asleep.

That evening a soldier brought a message to the officer in charge of the escort, telling him that the two English prisoners had by the aid of their warder effected their escape, bidding him search the convoy, and keep a sharp lookout along the road and ordering him to give information to all village and military authorities, and instruct them to send messages to all places near, warning the authorities there not only to keep a sharp lookout, but again to forward on the news; so that in a short time it would be known in every village in the province.

In the morning, before starting, the officer in charge of the escort rode along the line, examining every wagon carefully, asking the names of the drivers, and referring to a paper with which he had been furnished by the owners of the carts, at starting, giving the names of the drivers. The head man of the party from Count Preskoff’s responded at once for the twelve men under him; and satisfied that the fugitives were not in the convoy, the officer gave orders to proceed.

This time Dick was able to walk two or three miles before dropping back to the hospital wagon. The next day he went still farther, and by the end of a week announced himself to be as strong as ever, and the doctor allowed that he could now be trusted to travel.

On this night they had halted at a point where a road, running east and west, crossed the great road to the Crimea. Before starting, the boys had a long chat with their friend the doctor, who furnished them with military passes which he had procured from an officer. These testified that Ivan Petrofski and Alexis Meranof, of the 5th Polish Regiment, were proceeding home on sick-furlough.

The signature of the colonel was no doubt fictitious, but this mattered but little. Jack inquired whether their absence in the morning would not be likely to be remarked; but the doctor said that the head of the party had been informed by Demetri that the two strangers would only accompany them for a few days’ march, and had only been hired to satisfy the authorities that the right number of men had been furnished, for the want of hands on the estate was now so great owing to the heavy drain of conscripts to fill up the losses caused by the war, that the count had been glad to retain the services of the two who had been left behind. There was therefore to be no remark concerning the disappearance of the new hands, but the others were to take charge of their carts, and if possible the authorities were to be kept unacquainted with the fact that their number was incomplete.

The peasants’ dresses were now exchanged for the uniforms of Russian soldiers. Dick’s head was wrapped in bandages, and his arm placed in a sling. Jack’s leg was also enveloped in bandages, the trousers being slit up to the hip, and the sides loosely tied together by a piece of string, and the doctor gave him a pair of crutches, the same as those used in regimental hospitals.

“Now you will do,” he said, surveying them by the light of a lantern. “Many of the soldiers who have joined since the outbreak of the war are mere boys, so your age will not be against you, only pray for a time give up all idea as to the necessity of washing. The dirtier your hands and faces, the better, especially if the dirt will hide your clear healthy color, which is very unlike the sallow complexions almost universal among our peasantry. And now, good-bye. I move about too much to hope to receive any letter from you, but as you have of course arranged with Count Preskoff to send him word when you have safely crossed the frontier, I shall hear of you from him.”

With many deep and hearty thanks for the kindness he had shown them, the boys parted from him, and, setting their faces to the west, took the road to Odessa. Jack carried his crutches on his shoulders, as also the long strap which, when he used them, was to pass over his neck, and down under his foot, keeping it off the ground.

They had made many miles before morning, and as they had retained their sheepskin cloaks, which had been served out to many of the troops, they were able to get a comfortable sleep under shelter of a protecting wall. Five days’ walking took them to Odessa. This town was not upon the direct road, but they still clung to the hope of getting away by sea.

On the journey they had met several bodies of troops and many convoys of provisions and stores. Whenever they observed the former to be approaching, they left the road, and sheltered themselves behind bushes or inequalities of the ground at a distance from the road, as they knew they would be liable to be questioned as to the state of things at the front. They did not, however, go out of their way for convoys, as they passed these with short salutations in reply to the greetings or pitying remarks from the drivers. Their Russian was good enough to pass muster when confined to short sentences of a formal kind. Their hearts beat when, on passing over a rise, they saw the blue water stretching out far before them, and they again debated the possibility of seizing a boat. But the sight of two gun-boats steaming slowly along the shore convinced them that the attempt would be an extremely dangerous one.

Odessa is not a fortress, and the boys consequently entered it unquestioned. The town was crowded with wounded and sick soldiers, and their appearance attracted no attention whatever. In the principal streets the lads saw many names of English firms over offices, and the majority of the shops appeared to be kept by Frenchmen and Germans. They walked down to the wharves and saw how great must have been the trade carried on before the war. Now all traffic and business was at an end.

The great foreign merchants interested in the corn trade had all left, and many of the shops were closed.

The harbor was deserted, save that a score or two of brigs employed in the coasting-trade, in the Black Sea lay moored by the wharves with hatches battened down and deserted decks. A little farther out lay at anchor two or three frigates and some gun-boats. Looking seaward, not a single sail broke the line of the horizon.

Returning into the town, they went up some small streets, entered a small eating-house, and asked for food, for the stock with which they had started four days before had been exhausted the previous evening. The landlord served them, and as they were eating he entered into conversation with them.

“I suppose you have leave out of hospital for the day?”

“No,” Dick said, “my comrade and I have got leave to go home to Poland till our wounds are cured.”

“Oh,” the landlord said. “You are Poles. I thought you did not look quite like our men; but you speak Russian well for Poles. There is a regiment of your countrymen in the town now, and some of them come in sometimes for a glass of brandy. They like it better than vodka; curious, isn’t it? Your true Russian thinks that there’s nothing better than vodka.”

Rather disturbed at the intelligence that there was a Polish regiment in the town, the boys hastened through their meal, and determined to lay in a stock of bread and meat sufficient for some days’ consumption, and to leave Odessa at once. Just as they had finished, however, the door opened, and a sergeant and two soldiers entered.

“Ah, my friend,” the landlord said to the former. “I am glad to see you. Are you come as usual for a glass of brandy? Real French stuff it is, I promise you, though for my part I like vodka. Here are two of your compatriots wounded; they have furlough to return home. Lucky fellows, say I. There are thousands at Sebastopol would be glad to change places with them, even at the cost of their wounds.”

The sergeant strode to the table at which the lads were sitting, and, drawing a chair up, held out his hands to them. “Good-day, comrades,” he said in Polish. “So are you on your way home? Lucky fellows! I would give my stripes to be in your place, if only for a fortnight.”

Dick for a moment was stupefied, but Jack recalled to mind three sentences which the countess had taught him and which might, she said, prove of use to them, did they happen to come across any insurgent bands in Poland; for vague reports were current, in spite of the efforts of the authorities to repress them, that the Poles were seizing the opportunity of their oppressors being engaged in war, again to take up arms. The sentences were pass-words of a secret association of which the countess’s father had been a member, and which were widely whispered among patriotic Poles. “The dawn will soon be at hand. We must get up in the morning. Poland will yet be free.” The sergeant stared at them in astonishment, and answering in a low tone in some words which were, the boys guessed, the countersign to the pass, sat down by them. “But you are not Poles?” he said in a low voice in Russian. “Your language is strange. I could scarce understand you.”

“No,” Jack said, in similar tones, “we are not Poles, nor Russians. We are English, and England has always been the friend of Poland.”

“That is so,” the sergeant said heartily. “Landlord,” he said, raising his voice, “a glass of vodka for each of my friends. I fear that my money will not run to brandy. And now,” he said, when the landlord had returned to his place, “what are you doing here? Can I help you in any way?”

“We are English officers who have escaped, and are making our way to Poland. We expect to find friends there. Do you know the intendant of the Countess Preskoff at–?”

“Do I know him?” the soldier repeated. “Why, I belong to the next village. I have seen him hundreds of times. And the countess, do you know the countess?”

“Certainly we do,” Jack said. “We have been living for six weeks in her chateau, it is she who has written to the intendant to aid us.”

“You will be welcome everywhere for her sake. She is a kind mistress, and greatly beloved. It is a pity that she married a Russian, though they say he is a good fellow. Tell me, can I do anything for you? Do you want for money?”

“No, indeed,” Jack replied. “The countess has taken care of that.”

“Look here,” the sergeant said. “I will give you a note to my brother, who is a horse-dealer at Warsaw. It may be useful to you. He knows every one, and if, as they say, there is trouble in Poland, he is sure to be in the thick of it, and at any rate he will be able to give you advice which may be useful, and addresses of safe people in different towns to whom you can go. Landlord, give me some paper and pen and ink. My comrades here know friends of mine at home, and will carry a letter for me.”

“Please be careful,” Dick said, as the soldier began to write. “It is possible we may be searched on the way; so do not say anything that a Russian official might not read.”

“Trust me,” the sergeant answered, laughing. “We Poles have been learning to conceal our feelings for generations. Trust me to write a letter which my brother will understand at once, but which will seem the most innocent thing in the world to any Russian official who may read it.”

In a few minutes the letter was finished, and the three left the place together, the sergeant telling his comrades that he would return shortly for them. He then accompanied the midshipmen, and did their shopping for them, and, bidding him a hearty adieu, they were soon on their way out of Odessa, Jack swinging along upon his crutches at a fair pace. Once fairly away from the town, he took his foot from the strap, shouldered his crutches and again they trudged along upon their journey.

They found their walking powers improve day by day as they went on, and were soon able to make thirty-five miles a day without inconvenience. Travelling in this way, without any interruption or incident save an occasional demand for a view of their passport by some Russian official, they journeyed across the south of Russia, and ten days after leaving Odessa they entered Poland.

Here they foresaw that their difficulties would be far greater than before, and that their characters as Polish soldiers on their way home could no longer be sustained. They took, therefore, the first opportunity of purchasing two suits similar to those worn by Polish peasants, and, entering a wood, dressed themselves in their new attire, and, rolling their dirt-stained uniforms into a bundle, thrust them into a clump of underwood. Into this Jack also joyfully tossed his crutches and strap. Dick had long been able to dispense with his sling, but the wound on his face was scarcely healed, and was still angry-looking and irritable.

They now trudged steadily along, avoiding all conversation as much as possible, and making their purchases only in a quiet villages. They met many bodies of troops moving about the roads, and although they could understand nothing of the language, and were wholly ignorant of what was going on, they judged from the manner in which these troops marched, by the advance guard thrown out in front, the strong detachments which accompanied the baggage, and the general air of vigilance which marked them, that the country was in a troubled state.

Once convinced of this, they took care to conceal themselves whenever they saw troops approaching, as they feared that questions might be addressed to them which they might find it difficult to answer. There was the less difficulty in their doing this as the country was for the most part thickly wooded, the roads sometimes running for miles through forests. Upon one occasion, when, just as it was dusk, they had gone in among the trees, having seen a Russian column moving along the road, they were astonished at being suddenly seized, gagged, and carried off through the wood. So suddenly had this been done, that they had time neither to cry nor struggle.

After being carried some distance, they were thrown down on the ground, and the men who had carried them hurried away. Just as they did so there was a sudden outburst of musketry, mingled with loud yells and shouts; then, after a moment’s pause, came the rattle of a rolling musketry fire. The first, Jack judged to be the fire of insurgents upon the column; the second, that of the troops. For a while the din of battle went on. Sharp ringing volleys, heavy irregular firing, the fierce, wild shouts of the insurgents, and occasionally the hoarse hurrah of Russian soldiery.

Presently the sounds grew fainter, and the lads judged by the direction that the Russian column was falling back in retreat. Ere long the sounds of firing ceased altogether, and in scattered knots of three and four, men came through the wood to the wide open space in which the midshipmen were lying bound. No attention was paid to them for some time, until a large body of men were collected. Then the lads were suddenly raised and carried to a large fire which was now-blazing in the centre of the clearing. Here the gags were taken from their mouths, and the cords unbound, and they saw confronting them a young man evidently by his dress and bearing a person of rank and authority, and, as they judged by the attitude of those standing round, the leader of the insurgent band.

“Where do you come from, and what are you doing here?” he asked in Polish.

The boys shook their heads in token of their ignorance of the language.

“I thought so,” he said angrily in Russian. “You are spies, Russian spies. I thought as much when the news came to me that two peasants had entered a village shop to buy goods, but had been unable to ask for them except by pointing to them, and had given a rouble note and allowed the woman who served them to take her own change. You are detected, sirs, and may prepare for the death you deserve. Hang them at once,” he said in Polish, to those standing near. “But first search them thoroughly, and see if they are the bearers of any documents.”

The lads in vain endeavored to explain, but their voices were drowned in the execrations of the angry peasants, fresh from the excitement of the battle, and in many cases bleeding from bullet and bayonet wounds, for the Polish peasants always rush to close quarters. Concealed in Dick’s waistband was found a heavy roll of Russian notes, and the yell which greeted its appearance showed that it was considered confirmatory of the guilt of the prisoners.

Upon Jack was found only the letter which the sergeant had given him to his brother, the horse-dealer. This was taken to the leader, and he opened and read it by the light of a blazing brand which one of his followers held beside him. “Stop!” he shouted, after reading the first line or two, to the men who were already hurrying the lads towards the nearest tree. “Wait till I have read this through.” He read it to the end, and then beginning afresh again, went carefully through it. “Bring the prisoners here,” he said. “Young men,” he went on, when the lads were again placed before him, “there may be some mistake here. This letter purports to be from a sergeant of the 12th Polish regiment to his brother, Horni Varlofski. Now Varlofski is well known to many of us. I do not know whether he has a brother a sergeant. Does any one here know?”

Two or three of the men raised their voices to say that they knew that Varlofski the horse-dealer had a brother who was drafted into the army as a punishment for having struck a Russian sergeant in a brawl.

“This must be the man, then,” the leader said. “The letter is written carefully, apparently with a view to avoid any suspicion, should it be opened and read by any but him for whom it is intended; but in fact it contains assurances couched in language which I understand, that the bearers are enemies of Russia and friends of Poland, and that every confidence may be placed in them. Now, sirs, will you explain to me how you, who speak no Polish come to be in the middle of the forest, dressed as Polish, peasants, and the bearers of a letter such as this?”

“We are English officers,” Dick began, “who were taken prisoners at Sebastopol, and have since escaped.”

He then proceeded to explain the circumstances of their residence at Count Preskoff’s, of their recommendation to the intendant of the countess’s estates in Poland, of their acquaintance with the insurgent pass-words, and their meeting with the sergeant at Odessa. When they had concluded, the young leader held out his hand to them.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I ask your pardon for the roughness with which you have been treated, and shall never forgive myself for having without sufficient inquiry condemned you to death. It will be a lesson to me never to judge by appearances in future. I knew the countess well before her marriage. Her estates are but a few miles distant from my own, and I last saw her some three years since, when she was there with her husband and daughters. By the way,” he said carelessly, “what are their names?”

Dick instantly repeated them.

“Right,” the Pole answered. “Pardon me this last test, but one cannot be too particular when the lives of hundreds depend upon a mistake not being made. I am satisfied now. Welcome, heartily welcome to our camp.”

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE POLISH INSURGENTS

A few words from the leader explained to his followers that the new-comers were friends. Their money was instantly restored to them, and those who a few minutes before were so eager to hurry them to execution were profuse in their apologies and demonstrations of respect. The Poles regarded England as a friendly power, and were eagerly watching the war in the Crimea, hoping that the strength of Russia would be so exhausted there that she would be obliged to weaken her hold on Poland. So far, however, great as were the number of troops that Russia had poured down to meet the Allies, she had in no way weakened her hold upon Poland. Indeed even larger numbers of troops than usual were massed in that country. The insurrection at present going on was intended rather as a proof to Europe that Poland yet lived, ground down though she was under the heel of Russian tyranny, than as a movement from which success could be reasonably hoped for.

The lads were now able to look round at the wild group which filled the clearing. The greater portion were peasants, although the dress and bearing of several proclaimed that they belonged to a superior class. Some of the peasants were armed with guns, but these were quite in the minority, the greater portion carrying scythe blades fastened to long handles. These, although clumsy to look at, were terrible weapons in a close onslaught, and the Russian soldiers could seldom be kept firm by their officers when, in spite of their fire, the Polish peasantry rushed among them. The Poles were in high spirits. Their own loss had been small, and they had inflicted great slaughter upon the head of the Russian column, and had gained a considerable number of arms. A party which had attacked the rear of the column at the same moment when the main body fell upon its head, had for a time obtained possession of a wagon with spare ammunition, and had succeeded in carrying off the greater part of it.

The leader of the party, having given orders to his men and seen that the wounded were carried away on stretchers roughly formed of boughs, either to their own villages, or when these were too distant, to a collection of wood-cutters’ huts in the heart of the forest, returned and took a seat by the lads near the fire.

“We have not introduced ourselves yet,” he said in Russian, laughing. “My name is Stanislaus Chernatony.”

Dick named himself and his comrades.

“Tell me now,” the Pole said, “how you got here, and what are your plans.”

Dick in reply gave him a narrative of their adventures, and said that they were making their way to the Austrian frontier.

“It would be absolutely impossible,” the Pole said, “for you to succeed in making your way in safety. Every town is full of Russian troops, who are forever scouring the roads. It would be out of the question for any one except a native to succeed in getting through, and even a Pole would find difficulty, so strictly is every one questioned. Of course their object is to prevent our bands from increasing, and to capture any of us who may be returning to our homes. We only manage to assemble by marching constantly in the woods by paths known only to villagers. You would find it, too, a matter of extreme difficulty to cross the frontier, even should you gain it, as there is a perfect cordon of troops posted along the frontier, to prevent any one from escaping. Once in Austria, you would be safe, but you could not cross into Prussia, even if you succeeded in passing the Russian troops stationed along that line; for Prussia, who is as harsh a master to the Poles under her rule as is Russia, acts as policeman for the latter, and turns all fugitives back who may cross the frontier. At present I fear I can give you no assistance; but there is a talk of a union of several of our bands further west, and in that case you might travel with us, and we might pass you on, and see that you had guides. For the present I can either lodge you in the village where our wounded are now taken, and where it is not likely that the Russians will find you, at any rate for the present; or if you like to join us, I need not say how glad we shall be to receive you as comrades. England has always been the friend of Poland and more than one of your countrymen has fought in the Polish ranks. As England is at war at present with Russia, you will be doing as much service by fighting her here as in the Crimea. Here, too, you will have the satisfaction that you are fighting for an oppressed people struggling for freedom against tremendous odds.”

The lads asked for twelve hours before giving a final answer, and then, having shared the Pole’s rough meal, they chatted with him for a long time upon the progress and chances of the insurrection. The Polish leader told them that there were a score of bands like his own in the forests; but he admitted that he saw but little hope of final success unless Russia were completely crippled in the war with England and France.

“But,” he said, “we in Poland do not rise only when we consider success possible. We take up arms when we are goaded to it. When some act of Russian tyranny more gross and brutal than usual goads us to desperation, we take up arms to kill and to die. You know not the awful persecution to which we Poles are exposed. Whole villages are destroyed, and the inhabitants banished to Siberia; our young men are taken and compelled to serve in the Russian army. Scores are shot down, after a mockery of a trial, on the pretence of discontent with Russian rule. Women, ay, and ladies, are publicly flogged. Priests are massacred, our churches closed, our very language proscribed. Death is a thousand times preferable to the living torture we undergo, and when we at last rise, it is vengeance and death that we seek rather than with any thought of finally freeing Poland from her oppressors. And now,” he said, “you will excuse me if I suggest that we follow the example of my comrades, and turn off to sleep. We have marched fifty miles since yesterday evening, and shall be off before daybreak to-morrow.”

For half an hour after the Polish leader had rolled himself in his cloak and gone off to sleep, the boys chatted together as to the course they should adopt, and finally resolved to throw in their fortunes with those of the Polish patriots. They saw that it would be impossible for them to make their way on to the frontier alone, and considered that their chance of life was no less if captured in action by the Russians than if found in a village with a number of wounded insurgents. The wrongs of Poland were in those days a subject which moved men’s hearts in England, and the midshipmen rejoiced at the thought of striking a blow in so good a cause.

These were the reasons which, in talking the matter over, they assigned to each other, but in reality their love of adventure and excitement in no slight degree influenced them. To have taken part in a real Polish insurrection, to join in guerilla attacks and fierce onslaughts on Russian columns, to live a wild life in the woods, were things that appealed strongly to the imagination of the midshipmen; and in the morning they expressed to Stanislas Chernatony their willingness to join him, and fight against the Russians until an opportunity occurred for them to cross the frontier and rejoin the forces before the Sebastopol.

“Good,” the Pole said. “I am heartily glad to have two English officers fighting under me. The warfare is of a kind very different to that to which you are accustomed, but I can guarantee that you shall see that we Poles, undisciplined, badly armed, and fighting a hopeless battle, can yet die as bravely as your own trained soldiers in the Crimea. We are now going back to the place we left the day before yesterday, and which we regard as our headquarters. We had news that the column we attacked was to set out, and as so far none of our bands had visited this neighborhood, we thought we might take them by surprise. We succeeded in doing them much damage, but our success was not as great as that which we gained in our last fight, when we succeeded in capturing two cannons. By the way,” he said, “you as marine officers, are accustomed to artillery.”

“Yes,” Dick replied, “we are drilled, not only with heavy ship’s guns, but with light field-pieces, of which every large vessel carries a few to be used in case of a landing.”

“Capital!” the Pole exclaimed. “We have not a man who has any idea of artillery, and I will appoint you to the command of the guns. You shall each pick out as many men as you require, and train them as artillerymen. This will be an invaluable service to us.”

Late at night they reached their halting-place. The guns had been hidden in a thicket, every man having marched with his leader to the attack of the column. The next morning thirty-six men were chosen, eighteen to each gun, in order that the places of those who might be killed could be filled at once, or, should some more pieces be taken, men would be available already trained to the work.

For four days drill went on without intermission. The lads found the Polish peasants very intelligent, although it was difficult for them to understand why each movement should be performed with mechanical regularity. At first, too, the boys’ ignorance of Polish caused them great difficulty; but Stanislas wrote down for them the translation of the words of command, and the movements were taught by the boys themselves performing them, and insisting upon their motions being accurately imitated. They worked from morning till night, and by the end of the fourth day were satisfied that their men could serve the guns in a workmanlike and regular way.

The Poles themselves were delighted when they found how swiftly and smoothly the work could be done now that they had mastered it, and looked forward with anxiety to try the results upon the Russians. They had not long to wait. In a short time friends from the next garrison town brought the news that considerable bodies of fresh troops had arrived there, and that an attack was to be made on the following day by two heavy columns. Messengers were sent off at once, and during the night the insurgents were joined by three other bands, raising their numbers to nearly 1500 men. Stanislas told the lads that he intended to move before daybreak, so as to attack one of the columns as soon as it entered the forest, and while the other was too far away to arrive at the scene of action until all would be over.

“I propose,” he said, “to fell some trees across the road, arranging them so that the guns can fire between them, while the trunks will afford the gunners some shelter. Half the men will be arranged among the trees on either side, so that while the guns sweep the column we shall attack it upon either flank. I will place a hundred of my best men at the barricade to defend the guns should the column press forward in spite of our efforts; but I believe that we shall have an easy victory. Our recent partial successes have considerably added to our stock of arms, and as this is the first time that we have brought cannon into play, we may rely upon their effect being considerable.”

The lads begged that they might go forward with the party charged with felling the trees, in order that they might choose the spot, and themselves see to the construction of the defence. Stanislas chose one of his lieutenants who spoke Russian, and, giving him 200 men, ordered him to carry out the instructions of the lads. They set off an hour before daylight, and just as the dawn began, arrived at the spot where the struggle was to take place.

They selected a point where a rise of six feet afforded a view of the road far in advance, and placed the guns just so far behind the trees that while they would sweep the road, their muzzles only could be seen by an advancing foe. Two large trees felled and stripped of their boughs were placed across the road in front of the guns, being, when placed, just high enough for the gunners to look over them. A strong party were then set to work to cut sods, and with these an earthwork was thrown up across the road, four feet high. Embrasures were left for the guns, and these were made very narrow, as the fire would be directly in front. On either side trees were felled with their boughs outward, so as to form a chevaux-de-frise, extending at an angle on each side of the road for fifty yards in advance of the guns.

Fifty of the men were to remain in the road in the rear of the guns, in readiness to man the earthwork, should the Russians advance to take it by storm, while the rest were to lie down behind the chevaux-de-frise and to open fire upon both flanks of the advancing column. A few green boughs were scattered on the road in front of the battery, and the lads, going along the roads by which the Russians would advance, were pleased to see that at a distance the work was scarcely noticeable. Just as they had finished their preparations Stanislas with the main body arrived, and all were greatly pleased at the position which the boys had constructed. The guns and ammunition wagons had been dragged along by ropes to which hundreds of the peasants had harnessed themselves.

The Poles now took up the positions assigned to them for the attack. Stanislas and his principal officers held a consultation with the midshipmen, and it was agreed that the Russian column should be allowed to approach near to the guns before these opened fire, and that their doing so should be the signal for the general attack upon the column. Half an hour later a peasant who had been placed near the edge of the wood announced that the Russian column was in sight, that so far as he could judge from his observations made from a tree-top, it numbered about 2000 infantry, with a battery of artillery.

“That is just a fair match for us,” Stanislaus said. “The 500 men extra do not count for much, and their superiority of arms will be counterbalanced by our advantages of surprise, and to the effect which cannon brought against them for the first time may exercise on the minds of the soldiers.”

Presently along the straight road the black column of the enemy could be seen. They were advancing in a heavy mass, some forty men abreast, and were preceded at a distance of 300 yards by an advance guard of 200 men. When distant some 400 yards from them the midshipmen observed the advance guard halt, and guessed that an obstacle of some sort or other across the road had been made out. A mounted officer rode back from the advance guard to the main body, and was there joined by several other mounted men. After some conversation a movement was seen in the column. A mounted officer rode back, and as he did so the column divided, leaving a passage in the centre of the road.

There was a long pause, and then the lads could see the Russian guns coming through the line. They halted and formed across the road half-way between the main body and the advance guard, and, unlimbering, prepared to open fire upon the unknown obstacle in their front. The midshipmen had arranged with Stanislas that, as it would be difficult for the parties on the flank of the Russian column to distinguish between the sound of the enemy’s guns and their own, a white handkerchief should be hoisted on a long pole when they themselves opened fire, and a chain of men were placed along back in the wood to repeat the signal down to the spot where the Poles were lying ready for attack.

The Russians opened fire over the heads of their advance guard, who lay down in the road. The shot for the most part either struck the slope or flew overhead, very few striking the upper part of the battery face, which was alone exposed to their fire. For five minutes the Russians continued to fire. Then, deceived by the absolute silence which reigned, and supposing the obstacle was an accidental one, or that the insurgents had retired, the guns were limbered up, the advance guard again moved forward, and the main column marched on close behind the guns.

The whole of the 200 men who had been placed behind the barricade were armed with muskets, and each hidden behind the leafy screen rested his piece on a branch, and prepared to pour his fire into the column as it advanced. It was not until the advance guard was within fifty yards of them that the lads, who had themselves trained the guns to sweep the road, gave the signal, and the silence was broken by the roar of the two guns loaded to the muzzle with grape-shot. The effect was tremendous. Two lanes were literally mown through the ranks of the Russian infantry, the shot which flew high doing terrible execution among the artillery behind them.

The echoes had not died away when a tremendous fire of musketry was opened by the Poles hidden behind the abattis. More than half of the advance guard fell under that terrible discharge, and the artillery crowded behind them fell into confusion.

The Russian officers strove by voice and example to gather the survivors of the advance guard together; but the consternation which the slaughter had caused was heightened by the sound of a tremendous yell far behind, followed by a steady roll of musketry, showing that the column was hotly engaged there also. The artillery attempted to unlimber and to bring their guns to bear again, but the confusion that prevailed in the crowded spot rendered this next to impossible, and long before it could be accomplished the iron hail again swept through the ranks, and two rattling volleys from their invisible foes behind the flanking abattis again flashed out. The advance guard were annihilated, the artillery in confusion, but the general commanding the main column pushed his men on through the frightened horses of the artillery, and, opening a heavy musketry fire on their unseen foes, pressed forward to the assault.

The conflict now became a desperate one. The midshipmen fired their guns alternately as fast as they could load, the Poles working as steadily and coolly as if they had been long-trained artillerymen. Several times the Russians advanced to within twenty yards of the defences, but each time, shattered by the fire of grape-shot and by the storm of bullets from the abattis, they recoiled. In vain they flung themselves upon the trees and tried to hew a way through them. In vain the officers called upon them to gather themselves together and carry the battery at a rush. Receiving no aid from their own artillery, which, mingled in the throng of infantry, were helpless, shaken by the shouts of the assailants, and by the battle raging in their rear which told them their retreat was menaced, the Russians lost heart and began to fall back. Then, retaining only fifty men as a guard to the battery, the midshipmen ordered the rest of the defenders of the abattis to move forward among the trees on the flanks of the Russians, keeping up a constant fire, until they joined the main body in their attack on the Russian rear.

In the battery now they could see little of what was going forward. The woods were full of dense smoke. The whole Russian column as it fell back was maintaining a wild fire at random into the bushes around them.

But though the lads could see nothing, the road in front afforded them a sure guide for their aim, and ceaselessly the guns kept up their fire into the retreating mass of Russians.

For half an hour the roar of guns continued unabated, and then, as it died away, the triumphant shouts of the Pole told them that the victory was won, and that the Russian column, defeated and shattered, had retired from the forest and gained the open country beyond. Then the defenders of the battery raised an answering cheer to their friends in the distance, and, exhausted with their exertions, threw themselves on the ground.

Of those working the guns but three had been wounded by rifle bullets which had passed through the embrasures.

Several of the riflemen had fallen shot through the head, as they fired over the top of the battery, while thirty or forty lay killed and wounded behind the abattis.

After a few minutes’ rest the party advanced, and soon joined their friends, who saluted them with loud acclamations. The victory had been a complete one. The whole of the spare ammunition and stores had fallen into the hands of the victors, upon overpowering the rear-guard, had cut the traces and carried off the horses. The column had made a sturdy resistance at this point, and although the desperate onslaughts of the scythe-armed Poles had several times broken their ranks and carried slaughter among them, they had yet stood firm, and it was only the crushing of the head of the column, and its subsequent retreat, which had at last decided the day.

For some hundred yards in front of the guns the ground was covered with Russian dead. Most of the artillery horses had fallen, and but two of the guns had been carried off the field. The loss of the enemy in killed and wounded left upon the ground amounted to nearly 800, and the wounded were all killed as soon as discovered by the infuriated peasants.

Of the Poles some 250 had been put _hors-de-combat_. The delight of the insurgents was unbounded. It was by far the most important victory which they had won. They had now come into possession of sufficient muskets to arm the whole body, and an abundant supply of ammunition, and had in all a complete battery of artillery, with enough horses, taken from the wagons, to give two to each gun, and leave a sufficient number for the ammunition wagons. The two midshipmen received the warmest thanks of the Polish leader, who attributed his success entirely to the slaughter which the guns had wrought, and to the dispositions taken for their defence.

CHAPTER XIX.

TO THE RESCUE

A consultation was held on the evening of the battle. As was the custom of the Polish peasants after a success, many wished to return for a while to their homes and families. Several plans were proposed among the group of officers, and the leader asked the young midshipmen for their opinion.

Dick said that in his ignorance of the circumstances and the geography of the country he could offer none; but Jack, on being appealed to, said,–

“It seems to me that you will never do any good if you confine yourselves to beating back a Russian column occasionally, and then dispersing until they again advance. My opinion is that it is absolutely necessary to follow up the victory we have gained, and to do something which will induce the whole country to believe that there is a prospect of success. We have gained a very fair victory to-day. I propose that while the men are all in high spirits, and the Russians proportionately depressed, we take the offensive and fall upon one of their garrisons. Hitherto, as you say, you have always contented yourselves with attacking the columns sent out against you, and the Russians will be altogether unprepared for an attack on them in their own quarters. If we fall suddenly at night upon Piaski, we ought to succeed in nearly annihilating them. There are about 1200 men of the column whom we have fought, and about 2000 in the other column which marched out against us this morning, but fell back when they heard of the defeat of their comrades. It is probable that pretty nearly the whole force in the town came out, so that altogether there cannot be above 2500 men. If we can fall upon them at night, we ought to be able to defeat them easily. At any rate before they rally we should inflict tremendous damage upon them.”

Jack’s proposition was received with acclamation, and it was decided that the attack should take place on the following night. The officers therefore went among the men, and appealed to them to remain for another forty-eight hours, in order that they might annihilate the garrison of Piaski.

The men assented, the more readily that abundant supplies of bread and spirits had been found in the captured wagons, the Russian commander having deemed it probable that the expedition might extend over a period of some days.

The next morning all were instructed in the use of the Russian muskets, many of the peasants being wholly unacquainted with the management of fire-arms. It was arranged that each peasant should, in addition to his gun, carry his scythe, his favorite weapon for close conflict.

When night came on all was ready for the march. The bands were to advance separately, each under orders of its own leader, and were to unite in the market-place as the clock struck one. There were three barracks, and a certain proportion were told off for the attack of each. Three of the guns were hidden in the forest. The other three, each drawn by four horses, accompanied the column, the duty assigned to them being to blow in the gates of the several barracks. Coarse grass was cut and swathed round the wheels, and the horses’ feet were also muffled. The peasants were all clad in sandals, and there was therefore no fear of the noise of their advance being heard.

At nine o’clock the column set out for the town, which was nine miles distant, and upon nearing it separated, so as to enter as arranged in different directions. Each column was preceded at a distance of some hundred yards by four or five men, chosen for their activity, their duty being to seize and silence any watchmen they might meet in the streets.

The town seemed absolutely asleep when the band of Stanislas, with which for the time were the three cannon, entered it a few minutes before one.

Once the lads thought that they could hear a stifled cry, but if so it attracted no attention, for the streets were deserted, and not a single window opened as they passed. The other hands had already arrived in the market-place when that commanded by Stanislas reached it.

A few words were exchanged by the leaders, a gun told off to each column, and the bands started to their respective destinations. The contingent of Count Stanislas, to which Jack Archer was attached with his gun, was intended to attack the principal barrack. This was built in the form of a large quadrangle, and contained some seven or eight hundred infantry and a battery of artillery.

As the head of the column entered the street leading to the gate, a sentry on the outside challenged. No answer was made, and a moment later a gun was fired.

There was no longer any need for concealment, and with a wild cheer the column rushed forward. Some of the men threw themselves with axes upon the postern gate, which the sentry had entered and closed behind him.

The gun, which was close to the head of the column, was brought up and placed in position within a few feet of the gate, its muzzle directed towards the lock. The explosion tore a hole in the gate, but a massive bar still kept this in its place. Another discharge broke this also, and the Poles with exulting shouts surged in.

As they entered, a scattered fire opened upon them from the windows, but, without pausing, the band broke up into parties, each under its chief, and rushed at the entrances leading to the staircases.

Then ensued a desperate conflict. The Russians, taken wholly by surprise, appalled by the suddenness of the attack, and knowing the ferocity with which their assailants fought, in some cases offered but slight resistance, and leaped by scores from the windows at the back, preferring the risk of death or broken limbs to awaiting the rush of their enemies. Others defended themselves desperately, gathering on the top of the stairs, barring the doors, and resisting foot by foot until every man had been cut down.

The absence of their officers, who were quartered together in a different part of the barracks, proved fatal to the defenders; accustomed to act like machines, and to move only at the command of their officers, they were bewildered at finding themselves under such circumstances without head or direction, and in ten minutes after the entry had been effected all resistance had ceased, and the barracks remained in the hands of the victorious Poles.

The instant that his own part of the work was done, Jack Archer, with a band of fifty men who had been told off to act under his orders, proceeded to the stables. The artillery horses were all brought out and harnessed to the guns and wagons, and by the time that the resistance had ceased these were ready to depart.

The Poles, taking the muskets of the Russian soldiers, and lading themselves with blankets and such other articles as they fancied, swarmed out into the courtyard. In the store-rooms of the barracks were found large quantities of uniforms ready for issue to the troops, and a number of these Count Stanislas ordered to be brought out and stowed in an empty wagon.

Three minutes later the barrack was set on fire in a dozen places. Then the newly-captured artillery started at a trot for the forest, while the Poles moved away to render any assistance which might be necessary to the other columns.

The division to which Dick Hawtry was attached had experienced a success as complete as that which attended the principal column, and the flames were already rising in the air as the latter issued into the town.

The other barrack was, however, successfully defending itself. It was supposed that some watchman must have conveyed the news of the advance of the insurgents, for the instant the column appeared within sight of the barracks a musketry fire was opened upon it by the guard at the gate, and two or three minutes later every window bearing upon it was thrown up, and the Russian infantry opened a heavy fire. The gunners in vain attempted to bring up their piece close to the gate. The horses had been shot down, but scores of willing hands pushed forward the gun; but so heavy was the destruction which the Russian bullets wrought among them that these also were brought to a standstill, and when Count Stanislas arrived he found that a furious musketry encounter was raging between the Poles, now scattered all round the barrack, and the Russians pouring from the upper windows. After a hasty consultation with the other leaders, it was agreed that as the victory had been complete so far, two out of the three barracks carried and burnt, 1500 Russians killed, and a battery of artillery taken, it would be a pity to risk a final repulse by an attack upon a building which, now that the garrison were prepared for resistance, could only be carried with a great loss of life.

The horns were accordingly sounded, and the assailants drawn off, and the column marched through the town, now illuminated by the flames of the two burning barracks. It was but half an hour since the attack had begun, but the appearance of the town had changed as if by magic. Every house was lit up, every window open, crowds of people thronged the streets, while the windows were filled with women and children. All were delirious with delight, and cheered, shouted, and waved their handkerchiefs as the patriot band marched along. Not a few of the younger men, bidding a hasty adieu to their friends, joined the ranks of their countrymen, and, seizing one of the captured muskets, prepared to take a part in the strife which had been so well begun.

Upon gaining the forest a halt was ordered. Great fires were lit, and the companies mustered, when it was found that some eighty of those present had received wounds, and that forty had fallen. All the wounded unable to walk had been carried off, as to leave them where they fell would be to expose them to certain death when found by the Russians. A plentiful supply of spirits had been found in the stores, and several barrels brought off. An ample allowance was now served out, and after an hour’s carouse in honor of the victory the band, fatigued by their exertions, went off to sleep.

In the morning the guns–now amounting to two complete batteries–were taken some miles farther into the forest. The greater part of the band insisted upon returning to their homes for a few days, and their leader, finding himself powerless to resist the determination gave them leave to do so. All agreed to return at the end of ten days. Some 400 men remained, and from these the count requested the midshipmen to choose a sufficient number to constitute two batteries, each eighty strong, and to drill them as far as possible in the interval. He himself started to visit his estates, which lay about eighty miles from their present position. Here he hoped to raise a further contingent of men, and all who went home were bidden to bring back fresh recruits, and to spread everywhere the news of the victory.

Six days elapsed, and the band in the forest had already been increased by many hundreds of new-comers, whom the news of the successes which had been gained had induced to take up arms, and the time of the various leaders was fully occupied in giving some notion of drill and of the use of the musket to the new levies.

On the evening of the sixth day a peasant arrived with intelligence which spread dismay in the encampment. Count Stanislas had been captured by the Russians, having been surprised by a body of Russian cavalry, who, doubtless by means of a spy, had obtained news of his return home. He had been conveyed to Lublin, where he would doubtless be at once tried and executed.

A council of the leaders was hastily summoned.

Lublin was a large town garrisoned by some 5000 Russian troops, and even had the whole of the insurgent bands been collected, they would not have been strong enough to attempt a repetition of their late successful surprise, especially, as after that occurrence, the Russian troops would be everywhere on the alert.

All agreed that the loss of their most successful leader would be a death-blow to the revolt in that part of the country. The personal popularity of the young leader was immense, and the prestige which he had won by his several successes had excited the greatest confidence among his followers. So important was his life considered that the midshipmen urged that at all costs his rescue should be attempted, and although the enterprise appeared a desperate one, their proposal was finally agreed to.

A few men were at once despatched to Lublin to find out what was going on, and when and where the execution would take place, while 500 chosen men prepared to march through the forests to a point within a few miles of the town, where the spies were to rejoin them.

Just as they were starting the idea struck Dick that the Russian uniforms might be utilized, and, much to their disgust, half the party were ordered to dress themselves in the hated garb. The transformation was soon effected, and the band set out on their march.

Upon the third evening they arrived at the indicated spot, where several of the spies were already awaiting them. These informed them that the trial would take place on the following day, and that it was generally supposed that the count would be executed the next morning as there could be no doubt what the finding of the court would be.

Next day the midshipmen, accompanied by several of the leaders, all in peasants’ dress, visited the town to learn its general features, and make themselves acquainted with the approaches to the great square, where it was considered probable the execution would take place. They found the whole population moody and depressed. The news of the successes of the patriot bands had already spread far and wide, and had excited high hopes in every Polish breast. The fact, then, that the most successful leader was in the hands of their enemies had spread universal grief and consternation. After learning all the particulars they desired, the party rejoined their friends in the forest. The greatest difficulty existed from the fact that it would be impossible for the rescuing party to carry either muskets or their long scythes. Some twenty revolvers had fallen into their hands in the two fights, and with these the officers had all armed themselves. A certain portion of the men cut long sticks, like ox-goads, made to fit the bayonets; others fitted short handles to their scythes, while others carried short heavy sticks, to which again bayonets were fitted. A hundred of those dressed as soldiers were to carry their muskets, and, under the orders of one of their leaders, to march boldly down the street, so timing their arrival as to reach the square just at the time at which the execution was to take place, while the rest were to mix with the crowd.

Late at night the news was brought to them that proclamations had been posted through the town, saying that the execution would take place at eight in the morning in the grand square. Orders had been issued, it was learnt, that 1000 troops should be present, and the others were ordered to be in readiness in their barracks, in case any sign of popular feeling should be manifested. As it was evident, therefore, that no soldiers in uniform would be loitering in the street, it was determined that the 250 men so dressed should march together to the square with their arms.

In the morning the insurgents, in twos and threes, started for the town, and joined the town’s-people assembling in the great square. Across the square, within thirty or forty paces of one side, was formed up a strong battalion of Russian infantry, the rest of the square being occupied by the town’s-people, all of whom had attired themselves in mourning. In the centre of the square, behind the soldiers, a scaffold had been erected, as by the sentence of the court-martial the count was to die by hanging.

The midshipmen and their friends made their way through the crowd to the front, the latter giving way upon a whisper being circulated that an attempt was to be made to rescue the prisoner, and the 250 insurgents were soon gathered in a close body in front of the soldiers standing before the scaffold. Each man had his scythe or bayonet hidden under his long coat, the leaders grasping their pistols. The men had been ordered to refrain from any expression of excitement, and to assume, as far as possible, a look of quiet grief. Behind the infantry were a number of mounted officers, among whom General Borodoff, the governor of the town and district, was pointed out to the midshipmen, and near the general, under a strong guard, the prisoner was standing. All the insurgents, with the exception of those forming the first line, quietly fitted their scythes and bayonets to the handles and waited the signal.

Presently there was a movement behind the troops, who were drawn up six deep. Then a man was seen mounting the scaffold followed by the priest, behind whom came the prisoner between two warders. Just at this moment there was a stir in the crowd at the end of the square, and over the heads of the people a line of glittering bayonets could be seen coming down the street. The general looked in that direction with surprise, and immediately gave orders to a mounted officer beside him, who, passing through the line of soldiers, tried to make his way through the crowd. This, however, either from its denseness or an unwillingness to move from the place it had gained, made way for him but slowly, in spite of his angry shouts to the people to clear a way.

CHAPTER XX.

IN A LION’S DEN

Upon one side of the lane which the fugitives had entered ran a high wall. Upon the other was a very large mansion. Its lower windows were five feet from the ground. As the lads ran they saw an open window. Without a moment’s hesitation they placed their hands on the sill, threw themselves into it, and flung down the window. There was a scream as they entered, followed by an exclamation in English. The boys looked round, and saw a young lady who had started back in terror to a corner of the room.

“Are you English?” Jack exclaimed in astonishment. “We are English officers escaping from a Russian prison. In heaven’s name do not betray us!”

As he spoke the Russian cavalry came along the lane at full gallop.

“I am English,” the young lady said, as she recovered from her astonishment, “I am governess to the younger daughters of the governor. You are now in his palace. But what has taken place? I heard the firing and went to the window to listen.”

“We have been aiding in the rescue of a Polish leader who was to have been executed this morning,” Dick said. “We succeeded in that, but were attacked and cut up afterwards, and had to scatter. I fear that they will suspect we must have entered this place, for they were close behind us, and there was no other escape possible. Can you conceal us? It seems almost like a miracle finding an English lady here.”

“A great many of the Russian nobility have English tutors or governesses, and although some went back to England at the beginning of the war, the greater number have remained quietly at their work. I fear that the whole palace will be searched if it is suspected that you have taken refuge here. How imprudent of you to have mixed yourselves up in this rebellion!”

“We could hardly help ourselves,” Jack said, “but it is too late to discuss that now. Will you look out of the window and see if the lane is empty? If so, we had best make off without delay.”

The young lady went to the window.

“No,” she replied at once, “there is a soldier on horseback a few yards to the right.”

“Don’t open the window, then,” Jack said. “They have evidently put a line of patrols along the lane. We must not get you into trouble,” he continued, turning towards her. “If you will show us the way, we will go at once and give ourselves up.”

“Oh, no,” the lady exclaimed. “That must not be. But where can I hide you?” and she stood for a minute or two thinking. “I think the safest place of all,” she said at last, “the only place where you would have a chance of escaping, if a search is made, is in the general’s own writing-room. It is very bare of furniture, but there are heavy curtains to the windows. No one would think of searching that room, and the chances are that no one will go near the windows.”

The lads agreed that the plan was a good one, and the young lady hurried away to see if the room, which was not far from her own, was still empty. She returned in a minute, and beckoned to them to follow her. They soon arrived at a room which was simply furnished with a few chairs and an armchair placed at a table. Across the two windows hung heavy curtains, and behind these the midshipmen took their places, the curtains extending far enough beyond the windows for them to stand between them and the walls; so that any one going to the windows would not necessarily see them. Then leaving them with many injunctions to remain quiet, and with a promise to return at the end of the day and release them, she left, being, she said, due with her pupils at nine o’clock.

For half an hour the boys conversed in low tones with each other as to their chances of escape. Then footsteps were heard, and the governor entered, followed by several officers. He took his seat at the table.

“If,” he said to one of them, “your report, that you were so short a distance behind these men that it was impossible they could have reached the end of the lane before you entered it, be correct, it is clear they must have taken refuge here. You did quite right to place a cordon all round the palace. Write an order at once for the chief of police to send down twenty men to search the house thoroughly from top to bottom. Let them visit every room, not excepting even the apartments of my wife and daughters. You say that they were most conspicuous in the attack upon your cavalry, and I myself observed two very young men leading the attack upon the infantry. Well, sir,” turning to another officer, “what is your report of the losses?”

“Two hundred and three of the cavalry have been killed, sir. There are only ten wounded. One hundred and sixty-three infantry killed, and 204 wounded. We have found the bodies of 133 armed men, who were killed either in the square or in the pursuit, and 97 bodies, apparently those of town’s-people in the square.”

“Put them all down as insurgents,” the general said. “They are traitors and rebels, the whole brood. Let strong bodies of infantry patrol the streets. Order all shops to be shut and the inhabitants to keep within doors, and let a body of troops be placed at the disposal of the chief of police for a search from house to house. Some of these scoundrels may be hidden in the town.”

All day, officers, the bearers of reports, or who came to receive orders, entered and left the room, among them the chief of police, who reported that he had searched the palace from top to bottom, without the omission of a single room, and had failed altogether to find any traces of the fugitives.

“If they entered, they must be somewhere,” said the general. “Let a close cordon be kept around the house all night, with orders to shoot down any one they may see leaving it. To-morrow you will repeat your search of the house. If they are here, they must be found.”

The hours seemed intolerably long to the lads, standing upright and motionless against the wall. No one approached their hiding-place. At four o’clock the general gave orders that his horse and escort should be at the door, and a few minutes afterwards he went out, and the room was left deserted. The midshipmen were now able to stand in easier positions, but they did not venture to leave their hiding-places, in case any one should suddenly return. The hours passed slowly on, and it was nine o’clock before the door opened. It closed again, and a voice asked in low tones whether they were still there.

The lads joyfully replied that they were.

“Follow me, then,” she said, “as quietly as you can. There is no one about.”

They were soon in the room where they had first entered. The curtains were drawn, and candles burning on the table.

“You are safe here,” the lady said. “I have just dined with my charges, and my duties are over for the day. No one is likely to disturb us here. This is my private sitting-room. My bedroom is next door. If any one is heard coming, you must hide there. I will go in at once and change my dress for a dressing-gown, and I can then lock the door; so that if any one comes, there will be time for you to go in there, and when I open it, and say I am preparing for bed, it will account for the door being locked.”

She did as she had said, and then produced from a cupboard a box of biscuits and a decanter of wine, which she placed before them.

“You must be starving,” she said. “I am sorry that I have nothing more to offer you, but it was impossible for me to get any food. I have been thinking all day,” she went on, as the boys fell to at the biscuits, “how you are to be smuggled out; I can only think of one plan, and that is a fearfully dangerous one. But I do not know that it is more so than your continued stay here. The palace is to be searched to-morrow afternoon again, even more strictly than to-day, and that was strict enough. They turned every room topsy-turvy, opened every closet, and not only looked under the beds, but pulled the beds to pieces, to assure themselves that nobody was hidden within them. I hear that the general says that he is so convinced that you are here somewhere, that he will keep the soldiers round the house, and search it every day till you are found, if it is a month hence. Consequently, great as is the risk of the plan I have thought of, it is scarcely as great as that of remaining here.”

The midshipmen expressed their willingness to try any plan, however desperate, rather than remain day after day standing in the governor’s room, with the risk of betrayal by a cough or other involuntary movement.

“This is my plan, then. The governor’s eldest daughters are women as old as myself. They are tall and stout, and as far as figure goes I think you might pass in their places. They go out for a drive every morning. I have this afternoon slipped into their rooms and have borrowed two of their dresses, mantles and bonnets. Fortunately they usually wear veils. They do not generally go to dress until the carriage is at the door, and I propose that you shall boldly walk down and take their places. Of course, the risk is dreadful, but I really see no other chance for your escape. What do you say?”

The midshipmen at once agreed to make the attempt, and were soon dressed in the clothes which their friend had brought them. Walking about the room, she gave them lessons in carriage and manner, imitated herself the air with which the general’s daughters bowed to the officers as they saluted them as they passed, and even gave them instructions in the tone of voice in which they should order the driver to take the way to the public promenade. At length she pronounced that they ought to pass muster at a casual inspection, and then, bidding them good-night, she retired to her own room, while the lads were soon asleep, the one on the couch, the other on the hearthrug.

At seven o’clock their friend, who had told them that her name was Agnes Sinclair, came into the room dressed, unlocked the door, and then led them into her bedroom, as she said that at half-past seven the servants would come to do up the sitting-room, light the fire, and prepare breakfast.

“I am my own mistress,” she said, “till nine o’clock, and as the servants do not go into my bedroom till I have gone to my pupils, you will be quite safe. You must have some more biscuits for breakfast, for I am a very small eater, and it would not do were it noticed that a greater quantity of food than usual had disappeared.”

The boys were now again dressed in the clothes prepared for them, and this time put on gloves which Miss Sinclair had also brought, and into which it needed all the boys’ efforts to pass their hands. Fortunately the bonnets of the time completely enveloped the head, concealing the back half, and coming well forward over the face, and when the veils were dropped Miss Sinclair said that unless she had known the truth, she should not have suspected the deception.

When the servant knocked at the door, and said that breakfast was ready, the governess left them, and presently returned, bringing them the biscuits.

“Now,” she said, “in a quarter of an hour the carriage will be at the door. It always comes punctually at nine. From the window of the opposite room I can see when it arrives. Now, you quite understand? You walk straight along this passage. At the end is a wider one to the right, which will take you into the great hall. Here there will be several servants, and perhaps some officers standing about. All will bow as you pass through them. You are to bow slightly as I have shown you. If any of the officers come up to speak, as is possible, though not likely, for none of high enough rank to do so are likely to be there so early, answer only in a word or two in the voice you practised last night. Two servants will show you into the carriage. As you take your seats, you will say to the coachman, ‘To the promenade.’ After that you must do as you judge best. There is one drawback, I forgot to tell you, an escort of two soldiers always rides fifty or sixty yards behind the carriage.”

“So that we once get through the town,” Jack said, “we shan’t care much for the two soldiers, for we still have our revolvers. Now you promise, Miss Sinclair, that when you come to England you will let our people know. We have given you the addresses. They will want to thank you for our escape if we get away, and for your kindness even if the worst comes to the worst. I do hope that there is no possibility of a suspicion falling upon you about the missing dresses.”

“Oh, no,” Miss Sinclair said, “I’m sure no one saw me go to their rooms, and it will be supposed that you were hidden somewhere there, and have taken them yourselves. I shall make the things you have taken off into a bundle, slip into a room close to theirs, and throw them under a bed. If it were known that you are English, it is possible that some suspicion might fall upon me. As it is, there is no reason why I more than any one else should have been concerned in the matter. Now, it is just nine o’clock. I will go across into the other room, and look out. Fortunately it is unoccupied.”

Three minutes later she returned.

“It is at the door,” she said. “Wait two or three minutes. I will go straight now, hide your clothes, and take my place with my pupils as usual. I am always punctual to the minute.”

With another word or two of thanks the boys said good-bye to her, and Miss Sinclair at once went on her way with a final warning, “Be sure and be leisurely in your movements. Do not show the least haste. Peep out before you start, so as to be sure there’s no one in this passage, as otherwise you might be seen coming from this room.”

The boys waited another minute or two, and then, seeing that the passage was clear, moved along it, walking slowly and stiffly as they had been directed, with short steps and gliding movement. Both had their pistols in their pockets ready to hand, as they were resolved to be killed rather than taken. Fortunately there was no one in the next passage into which they turned, and they reached the grand hall unnoticed. Here were a number of servants and officers, who bowed deeply on perceiving, as they supposed, the daughters of the governor. Two servants threw open the grand door, and an official preceded them to the carriage. The boys bowed slightly and passed on. No one accosted them, and they took their seats in the carriage with the deliberation and dignity which had been impressed upon them. The official spread a bear-skin rug over their knees, and demanded which way they would go.

Jack replied, “To the promenade.” The carriage–which was an open one–proceeded on its way at a rapid pace, and the boys’ hopes rose higher and higher. They had not gone far when they heard a horse’s hoofs behind them, and, turning round, saw an officer galloping rapidly.

“Keep steady, Jack,” Dick whispered.

When the officer reached the side of the carriage he reined in his horse, and took off his cap. “Ladies,” he said, “his excellency the governor saw you drive away, and ordered me to ride after you, and tell you that he did not know you were going out, and that he considered it more prudent for you to remain at home for a day or two until the excitement of the late events has cooled down.”

“Thank you,” Dick said in his best Russian, and speaking in a feigned voice. “Will you tell my father that we will return in a few minutes? Drive on,” he said to the coachman.

The officer sat for a minute looking after them, for something in the accent with which Dick spoke seemed strange to him, but being fortunately unacquainted with the ladies of the general’s family, he suspected nothing wrong. It was evident to the boys, however, that the coachman was struck with the sound of the voice, as he rapidly spoke to the man sitting next him, and the latter once or twice endeavored privately to glance back.

They had now reached the promenade, which, owing to the governor’s order that all inhabitants should keep their houses, was entirely deserted, except by a few Russian officers walking or riding. These all saluted as the general’s carriage passed them. On reaching the end of the drive the coachman was about to turn, when the lads jumped to their feet, and commanded him to stop. The coachman looked round astonished, but at the sight of two pistols pointed at their heads, he and his fellow-servant, with a cry of alarm and astonishment, leaped from the box. Jack in an instant scrambled over and seized the reins. The soldiers had halted upon seeing the carriage stop, and remained stupefied with astonishment as they saw the two servants leap off, and one of the ladies climb into their seat. Nor did they move until the servants, running up hastily, explained what had happened. Then, putting the spurs into their horses, they galloped forward. Dick, who was looking back, saw at the same moment several horsemen at full gallop appear at the other end of the promenade.

“The general has found out the trick, Jack,” he said. “Keep them going steadily and steer straight. I can answer for those fellows behind. They can’t be sure yet what’s up.”

As the soldiers approached, Dick leaned his pistol on the back of the carriage and took a steady aim, and when they were within twenty yards, fired, aiming at the head of one of the horses. In an instant there was a crash, and the horse and rider were on the ground. The other soldier at once reined up his horse, bewildered at what had happened, and not knowing even now that the carriage was not occupied by the general’s daughters.

“That’s right, Jack,” Dick said. “We have got nearly half a mile start of the others, and the forest is, Miss Sinclair said, scarce three miles away. Let them go it, but be sure you steer straight.”

The horses were now tearing along at a furious gallop. Presently another long, straight bit of road enabled them to see their pursuers again. The horsemen had been increased in number by the officers who had been riding in the promenade, and were now some twenty in number. Of these, at least half whose helmets glistening in the sun showed Dick that they were soldiers, had already fallen in the rear, the others had gained upon them considerably. They were now, however, fully half way to the forest.

“That’s right, Jack, keep them going,” Dick said, as Jack flogged the animals to their highest speed. “We shall have plenty of time to get away into the wood before they come up, only for goodness’ sake keep us straight.”

When they reached the forest their pursuers were still some hundreds of yards in the rear. Checking the horses where the underwood was thickest, the midshipmen leaped out, gave a parting lash to the horses, which started them again at full speed, and then dashed into the thicket.

Any one who had seen them would have been astounded and amused at the spectacle of two fashionably-dressed ladies dashing recklessly through the thick brushwood. After a quarter of an hour’s run they paused breathless. Jack dashed his bonnet to the ground.

“For goodness’ sake, Dick!” he said, shaking off his mantle, “unhook the back of my dress, and let me get rid of the thing. I used to laugh at my sisters for not running as fast as I could. Now I wonder how on earth they manage to run at all.”

Their borrowed finery was soon got rid of, and in their shirts and trousers the boys proceeded. Presently they came suddenly upon four peasants seated on the ground, who upon seeing them leaped to their feet and greeted them with signs of vehement joy, making signs to them to follow them, and presently led them to a spot where the remains of the insurgent band were gathered. A shout greeted them as soon as they were recognized, and Count Stanislas, running forward, threw his arms round their necks and embraced them, while the other leaders crowded round.

“It is indeed happiness to see you again,” the count said. “We feared you had fallen into the hands of the Russians. I sent spies last night into the town, but they brought back word that the streets were absolutely deserted, and they dared not enter. I resolved to wait for a day or two until we could hear with certainty what had befallen you. Now tell us all that has happened.”

The midshipmen recounted their adventures, saying that they had remained concealed in the very writing-room of the governor, and giving full details of their escape dressed as his daughters; saving only the part which Miss Sinclair had played, for they thought that in case any of the band fell into the hands of the enemy, they might under the influence of the torture, which the Russians freely administered to their captives, reveal all that they had heard. They then inquired what were the count’s intentions.

“I shall move farther west,” he said, “and after gathering my old band together, move to join some others, who I hear have been doing good work in that direction. We shall not be far from the frontier; and, much as I shall regret to lose you, I will, if you wish it, lead a party to the frontier, and cut a way through the cordon of troops there for you.”

The boys gladly accepted the offer. They had had more than enough of insurrectionary warfare, and longed to be back again with their comrades at Sebastopol.

Three days’ marching took the band back to the forest, where some 1500 men were assembled, awaiting anxiously the return of the party.

A day was given for rest, and then horses were harnessed to the two batteries of artillery, and moving by little-frequented roads through the forest, the small army marched west.

For ten days the march continued, for the roads were heavy and the horses unable to accomplish such marches as those of which the peasants were capable. At last they effected a junction with the band which they had come to join, whose numbers amounted to nearly 4000 men. Their arrival, and especially the advent of the artillery, was greeted with enthusiasm, and it was at once proposed to take the offensive. Count Stanislas said, however, that his horses were completely knocked up with the fatigue they had undergone, and that a rest of two or three days was necessary in order to recruit.

“Now,” he said to the midshipmen, “I will redeem my promise. The frontier is only fifty miles distant. I will send on a man at once to ascertain some point at which there are boats on this side of the river. I will march at daylight with 150 picked men, and no fear but with a sudden attack we shall break through the patrols.”

The plan was carried out. The boys, inured to marching, made the fifty miles journey before nightfall. They were met by the spy, who stated that the boats had almost all been removed, but that a number were gathered at a village which was occupied by 200 Russian infantry.

The midshipmen proposed that they should steal through and endeavor to get one of the boats, but their friend would not hear of their running such a risk, and after taking some hours of rest the party proceeded on their march. It was an hour before daybreak when they entered the village. Just as they reached it a sentry fired his musket, and with a rush the Poles charged forward. It had been arranged that the count and the midshipmen with five men should run straight through the village down to the water-side, and that the rest of the force were to commence a furious attack upon the houses inhabited by the troops, who, believing that they were assailed by superior forces, would be some time before they took the offensive.

CHAPTER XXI.

BACK AT THE FRONT

Aroused by the sound of the sentry’s musket, the Russian soldiers rushed to their windows and doors and opened a scattering fire, which was heavily responded to by the Poles. The midshipmen with their party ran hastily down the village. There were two sentries over the boats, but these, alarmed by the din in the village and the sight of the approaching figures, fired their muskets and fled. Dick uttered a low exclamation.

“What is the matter, Dick? are you hit?”

“Yes,” Dick said. “My arm is broken. Never mind, let us push on.”

They leaped into a boat. Jack seized the sculls, the rope which fastened them to the shore was cut, and with a last shout of farewell to the count, they pulled off into the stream. For a few minutes the sound of battle continued, and then suddenly died away, as Count Stanislas, his object accomplished, drew off his men.

A few minutes’ rowing brought the boat to the opposite bank. Here they