"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 found Austrian sentries, who accosted them in German. As, however, the Austrian Government offered no obstacle to Polish fugitives entering the frontier, the lads were conducted to the officer of the troops at the little village which faced that on the Russian bank. Here they were questioned, first in Polish and then in German, but upon the boys repeating the word "English," the officer, who spoke a little French, addressed them in that language, and Dick explained that they were English naval officers taken prisoners at Sebastopol, and making their escape through Poland. He then asked if there was a surgeon who could dress his wound, but was told that none was procurable nearer than a town fifteen miles away. A country cart was speedily procured and filled with straw, and upon this Dick lay down, while Jack took his seat by the peasant who was to drive the cart.

It was eleven o'clock in the day when they entered the town, and the peasant drew up, in accordance with the instructions he had received, at the best hotel, the landlord of which was in no slight degree surprised at such an arrival, and was disposed to refuse them admittance. Jack, however, produced a bundle of Russian notes, at which sight the landlord's hesitation vanished at once, and in half an hour a surgeon stood by Dick's bedside dressing his wound. It was a severe one, the bone being broken between the elbow and shoulder.

The next day Dick was in a state of high fever, due more to the hardship and exposure through which he bad passed than to the wound, and for a week lay between life and death. Then he began to mend, but the doctor said that it would be long before he could use his arm again, and that rest and quiet were absolutely necessary to restore him.

A week later, therefore, the midshipmen left the town, Dick having determined that he would travel home by easy stages, while Jack, of course, would journey direct to join his ship.

He had written immediately upon his arrival to acquaint his family, and that of Dick, that both were alive and had escaped from Russia. The tailors had been set to work, and the midshipmen presented a respectable appearance. Dick was still so weak that he could scarcely stand, and Jack tried hard to persuade him to stay for another week. But Dick was pining to be home, and would not hear of delay. A day's travel in a diligence brought them to a railway station, and twelve hours later they arrived at Vienna.

Here they stopped for a day in luxurious quarters, and then Jack, after seeing his friend into the train on his way home, started to travel over the Semmering pass down to Trieste, where he knew he should find no difficulty in obtaining a steamer to Constantinople.

After forty-eight hours' diligence travelling, Jack reached the pretty seaport on the northern shore of the Adriatic. He found to his satisfaction that one of the Austrian Lloyd's steamers would sail for Constantinople on the following morning. He spent the evening in buying a great stock of such articles as he had most found the want of in camp, and had accumulated quite a respectable stock of baggage by the time he went on board ship. After six days' steaming, during which they were never out of sight of land, they cast anchor opposite Constantinople.

Jack did not report himself to the naval authorities here, as he thought it quite possible that the "Falcon" had been recalled or sent on other service, and he hoped that in that case he would, upon reaching the front, be appointed to some other ship.

There was no difficulty in obtaining a passage to Balaklava, for two or three transports, or merchantmen laden with stores, were going up every day. He paused, however, for three days, as it was absolutely necessary for him to obtain a fit-out of fresh uniforms before rejoining, and at Galata he found European tailors perfectly capable of turning out such articles.

Jack felt uncommonly pleased as he surveyed himself in a glass in his new equipment; for it was now eight months since he had landed in the Crimea, and the dilapidation of his garments had from that time been rapid. The difficulties of toilet had, too, been great, and white shirts were things absolutely unknown; so that Jack had never felt really presentable from the time when he landed.

The day he had obtained his outfit he took a passage in a ship laden with stores, and sailed for the Crimea. He had already learned that the "Falcon" was still there, and when the vessel entered the harbor he was delighted at seeing her lying as one of the guard-ships there. An hour later, one of the ship's boats conveyed him and his baggage to the side of the "Falcon." The first person he saw on reaching the deck was Mr. Hethcote. The officer stared when Jack saluted and reported himself in the usual words, "Come aboard, sir," and fell back a pace in astonishment.

"What, Jack! Jack Archer!" he exclaimed. "My dear boy, is it really you?"

"It's me, sure enough, sir," Jack said, and the next moment Mr. Hethcote was shaking his hand as if he would have wrung it off.

"Why, my dear Jack," he exclaimed, "the men all reported that both you and poor Hawtry were killed. They said they saw him shot, and, looking back, saw you killed over his body. It was never doubted a moment, and your names appeared in the list of the killed."

"Well, sir, we are alive nevertheless, and Dick is by this time at home with his people. He would have come on and joined with me at once, sir, only he got his arm broken, and was laid up with fever after some fighting we had among the Polish insurgents."

"Among what!" Mr. Hethcote exclaimed, astonished. "But never mind that now; I am glad indeed to hear that Hawtry also is alive, but you must tell me all about it presently. There are your other friends waiting to speak to you."

By this time the news of Jack's return had spread through the ship. The midshipmen had all run on deck, and the men crowded the waist, or, regardless of discipline, stood on the bulwarks. Jack had been a general favorite. The gallantry which he and his comrade had displayed on the night of the storm had greatly endeared them to the crew, and the men had bitterly regretted that they had not stood with him over Hawtry's body; but, indeed, it was not until they had passed on, and it was too late to return, that they had noticed his absence.

As Jack turned from Mr. Hethcote, his messmates crowded round him, and the men broke into a hearty cheer, again and again repeated. Jack, gratified and touched by this hearty welcome, could scarce reply to the questions which his comrades poured upon him, and was speedily dragged below to the midshipmen's berth, where he gave a very brief outline of what had happened since he saw them, a story which filled them with astonishment and some little envy.

"I will tell you all about it fully, later on," Jack said, "but it would take me till night to give you the full yarn now. But first you must tell me what has happened here. You know I have heard nothing, and only know that Sebastopol is not yet taken."

The recital was a long one, and Jack was fain to admit that the hardships which he had gone through were as nothing to those which had been borne by our soldiers in the Crimea during the six months he had been away from them. The trials and discomforts of the great storm had been but a sample of what was to be undergone. After Inkerman, it had been plain to the generals in command that all idea of taking Sebastopol must be abandoned until the spring, and that at the utmost they could do no more than hold their position before it. This had been rendered still more difficult by the storm, in which enormous quantities of stores, warm clothing, and other necessaries had been lost.

It was now too late to think of making a road from Balaklava to the front, a work which, had the authorities in the first place dreamt that the army would have to pass the winter on the plateau, was of all others the most necessary. The consequence of this omission was that the sufferings of the troops were terrible.

While Balaklava harbor was crowded with ships full of huts, clothing, and fuel, the men at the front were dying in hundreds from wet, cold, and insufficient food. Between them and abundance extended an almost impassable quagmire, in which horses and bullocks sank and died in thousands, although laden only with weights which a donkey in ordinary times could carry. Had the strength of the regiments in front been sufficient, the soldiers might have been marched down, when off duty, to Balaklava, to carry up the necessaries they required. But so reduced were they by over-work and fatigue, that those fit for duty had often to spend five nights out of seven in the trenches, and were physically too exhausted and worn-out to go down to Balaklava for necessaries, even of the most urgent kind. Many of the regiments were almost annihilated. Large numbers of fresh troops had come out, and drafts for those already there, but the new-comers, mostly raw lads, broke down under the strain almost as fast as they arrived, and in spite of the number sent out, the total available strength did not increase. One regiment could only muster nine men fit for duty. Many were reduced to the strength of a company. The few survivors of one regiment were sent down to Scutari until fresh drafts should arrive and the regiment could be reorganized, and yet this regiment had not been engaged in any of the battles. Scarce a general of those who had commanded divisions and brigades at the Alma now remained, and the regimental officers had suffered proportionally. The regiments which had won the Alma still remained before Sebastopol, but their constituents had almost entirely changed, and the proportion of those who had first landed in the Crimea that still remained there when Jack returned was small indeed.

The sufferings of the French, although great, had not been nearly so severe as our own. Their camps were much nearer to their port, the organization of their services was far better and more complete, and as in the first place the siege work had been equally divided between them, the numbers at that time being nearly the same, the work of our men had become increasingly hard as their numbers diminished, while that of the French grew lighter, for their strength had been trebled by reinforcements from home. Thus, while our men were often five nights out of the seven on duty in the cold and wet, the French had five nights out of seven in bed. This gave them far greater time to forage for fuel, which was principally obtained by digging up the roots of the vines and brushwood—every twig above the surface having long since been cleared away—to dig deep holes under their tents, to dry their clothes and to make life comfortable.

At last the strength of the English diminished to such a point that they were at length incapable of holding the long line of trenches, and they were obliged to ask the French to relieve them, which they did by taking over the right of our attack, a measure which placed them opposite to the two Russian positions of the Mamelon and Malakoff batteries, which proved to be the keys of Sebastopol.

As spring came on matters brightened fast. English contractors sent out large bodies of navvies, and began to lay down a railway from Balaklava to the front, reinforcements poured in, and the health of the troops began to improve. Troops of transport animals from every country on the Mediterranean were landed. A village of shops, set up by enterprising settlers, was started two miles out of Balaklava. Huts sprang up in all directions, and all sorts of comforts purchased by the subscriptions of the English people when they heard of the sufferings of their soldiers, were landed and distributed.

The work of getting up siege guns and storing ammunition for a re-opening of the bombardment in earnest, went on merrily, and the arrival of 15,000 Turkish troops, and of nearly 20,000 Sardinians, who pitched their camps on the plain, rendered the allies secure from an attack in that direction, and enabled them to concentrate all their efforts on the siege.

So far the success had lain wholly with the Russians. For every earthwork and battery raised and armed by the allies, the Russians threw up two, and whereas when our armies arrived before it on 25th September, Sebastopol was little more than an open town, which could have been carried by the first assault, it was now a fortified place, bristling with batteries in every direction, of immense strength, and constructed upon the most scientific principles. Many of their works, especially the Mamelon, Malakoff, and Tower batteries, were fortresses in themselves, with refuges dug deeply in the earth, where the garrison slept, secure from the heaviest fire of our guns, and surrounded by works on every side.

In the trenches it was the Russians who were always the aggressors. Sortie after sortie was made throughout the winter, and in these the Russians often obtained possession for a time of portions of our trenches or those of the French. Along in front of their works the ground was studded with rifle-pits, sometimes so close to our works that it was impossible for a man to show his head above them, and the artillerymen were frequently unable to work their guns, owing to the storm of bullets which the Russians sent through the embrasures whenever a sign of movement was discerned. In the desperate fights in darkness in the trenches we lost more men than in either of the pitched battles of the campaign; and it was only the dogged courage of our soldiers and the devotion of the officers which enabled us to maintain our footing in the trenches before the city which we were supposed to be besieging.

Throughout the winter the fleet had lain inactive, although why they should have done so none knew, when they had it in their power, by attacking the Russian forts in the Sea of Azof, to destroy the granaries upon which the besieged depended for their supplies.

The midshipmen, however, were able to tell Jack that they had not been altogether idle, as the fleet had at last, on the 22d of May, been set in motion, and they had but two days before returned from their expedition. All the light vessels of the English and French fleets had taken part in it. The fort of Yenikale which commanded the entrance of the Bay of Kertch had been captured, the batteries silenced, and the town occupied, and in four days after the squadron had entered the straits of Kertch they had destroyed 245 Russian vessels employed in carrying provisions to the Russian army in the Crimea. Besides this, enormous magazines of corn and flour were destroyed at Berdiansk, Genitchi and Kertch, and at the latter place immense quantities of military and naval stores also fell into our hands. Had this expedition taken place in October instead of May, it is probable that the Russians would have been unable to maintain their hold of Sebastopol.

A portion of the fleet had remained in possession of the Sea of Azof, and thenceforth the Russians had to depend upon land carriage. This, however, mattered comparatively little, as the country was now firm and dry, and all the roads from Russia to the Crimea were available.

All their comrades had taken share in the work in the batteries and Jack learned to his surprise that Captain Stuart had been transferred to a larger ship, and that Mr. Hethcote had got his promotion, and now commanded the "Falcon," Jack, in the first excitement of meeting him, not having noticed the changes in uniform which marked his advance.

After two hours' conversation with his friends, Jack received a message that Captain Hethcote invited him to dine in his cabin, and here a quarter of an hour later he found not only the captain, but the first and second lieutenants.

After dinner was over, Jack was requested to give a full narrative of his adventures, which greatly astonished his auditors, and was not concluded until late in the evening. The lieutenants then retired, and Jack was left alone with the captain, who signified that he wished to speak further with him.

"Well, Jack," he said, when they were alone, "I did not think when I offered my uncle to get you a midshipman's berth, that I was going to put you in the way of passing through such a wonderful series of adventures. They have been sadly cut up at home at the news of your death. I hope that you wrote to them as soon as you had a chance."

"I wrote on the very day I crossed the frontier, sir," Jack said. "Besides I wrote twice from Russia, but I don't suppose they ever got the letters."

"And so you speak Russian fluently now, Jack?"

"I speak it quite well enough to get on with, sir," Jack said. "You see, I was speaking nothing else for five months. I expect my grammar is very shaky, as I picked it all up entirely by ear, and no doubt I make awful mistakes, but I can get on fast enough."

"I shall report your return to-morrow to the Admiral," Captain Hethcote said. "It is not improbable that he will at once attach you to the battery in front again. The bombardment is to re-open next week, and the generals expect to carry the town by assault; though, between ourselves, I have no belief that our batteries will be able to silence the enemy's guns sufficiently to make an assault upon such a tremendous position possible. However, as they expect to do it, it is probable that they will like having an officer who can speak Russian at the front, as interpreters would, of course, be useful. I suppose you would rather stay on board for a bit."

"Yes, sir; I have had such a lot of knocking about since I left Breslau, that I should certainly have liked a month's quiet; but of course, I am ready to do as ordered, and, indeed, as the fun seems about to begin at last, I should like to be in it."

The next morning the captain sent his report to the Admiral, and received in reply a message that the Admiral would be glad if Captain Hethcote would dine with him that day, and would bring Mr. Archer with him.

Admiral Lyons was very kind to the young midshipman, and insisted upon his giving him an account in full of all his adventures. He confirmed Captain Hethcote's opinion as to Jack's movements, by saying, as he bade him good-bye, that in the morning he would receive a written order to go up to the front and to report himself to the officer in command of the naval brigade there.

The next morning, being that of the 5th June, Jack received his order, and an hour later he started for the front, with two sailors to carry his baggage. He was astonished at the change which had been wrought at Balaklava. A perfect town of wooden huts had sprung up. The principal portion of these was devoted to the general hospital, the others were crammed with stores. The greater part of the old Tartar village had been completely cleared away, the streets and roads were levelled, and in good order.

Such troops as were about had received new uniforms, and looked clean and tidy. Everywhere gangs of laborers were at work, and the whole place wore a bright and cheerful aspect. Just outside the town an engine with a number of laden wagons was upon the point of starting. The sun was blazing fiercely down, and at the suggestion of one of the sailors, who, though ready enough for a spree on shore, were viewing with some apprehension the prospect of the long trudge along the dusty road to Sebastopol, Jack asked the officer in charge of the train for permission to ride up. This was at once granted, and Jack, his trunk and the sailors, were soon perched on the top of a truck-load of barrels of salt pork.

Jack could scarcely believe that the place was the same which he had last seen, just when winter was setting in. A large village had grown up near the mouth of the valley, wooden huts for the numerous gangs of navvies and laborers stood by the side of the railway. Officers trotted past on ponies, numbers of soldiers, English, French, Turkish, and Sardinian, trudged along the road on their way to or from Balaklava. The wide plain across which our cavalry had charged was bright with flowers, and dotted with the tents of the Turks and Sardinians. Nature wore a holiday aspect. Every one seemed cheerful and in high spirits, and it needed the dull boom of the guns around Sebastopol to recall the fact that the work upon which they were engaged was one of grim earnest.

Upon arriving at the camp, Jack found that its aspect was not less changed than that of the surrounding country. Many of the regiments were already in huts. The roads and the streets between the tents were scrupulously clean and neat, and before many of the officers' tents, clumps of flowers brought up from the plain had been planted. The railway was not yet completed quite to the front, and the last two miles had to be traversed on foot.

Upon presenting his written orders to the officer in command of the naval brigade, Jack was at once told off to a tent with two other midshipmen, and was told that he would not, for the present, be placed upon regular duty, but that he would be employed as aide-de-camp to the commander, and as interpreter, should his services in that way be required.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE REPULSE AT THE REDAN

The first impulse of Jack, after having stowed his traps in the tent and introduced himself to his new mess-mates, was to make his way to the lines of the 33d. Here he found that Harry had been sent home sick in January, but that he had sailed from England again with a draft, and was expected to arrive in the course of a few days. Jack found but few of the officers still there whom he had before known. Several, however, were expected shortly back either from England or from the hospitals at Scutari.

Greatly relieved to find that his brother was alive and well, Jack returned to the naval camp, where he speedily made himself at home. When he first mentioned to his messmates, two lads about his own age, that he had been a prisoner in Russia, the statement was received with incredulity, and when, at their request, he proceeded to tell some of his adventures, they regarded him with admiration as the most stupendous liar they had ever met. It was long indeed before his statements were in any way believed, and it was only when, upon the occasion of one day dining with the officer in command of the brigade, Jack, at his request, related in the presence of several officers his adventures in Russia, that his statements were really accepted as facts; for it was agreed that whatever yarns a fellow might invent to astonish his comrades, he would not venture upon relating them as facts to a post-captain. This, however, was later on.

On the morning after his arrival all was expectation, for it was known that the bombardment was about to recommence. At half-past two o'clock the roar of 157 guns and mortars in the British batteries, and over 800 in those of the French, broke the silence, answered a minute or two later by that of the Russian guns along their whole line of batteries. The day was hot and almost without a breeze, and the smoke from so vast a number of guns hung heavily on the hill-side, and nothing could be seen as to the effect which the cannonade was producing. It was not until next morning that the effect of the fire was visible. The faces of the Russian batteries were pitted and scarred, but no injury of importance had been inflicted upon them. All day the fire continued with unabated fury on the side of the allies, the Russians replying intermittently. Presently the news circulated through the camp that an assault would be made at six o'clock, and all officers and men of duty thronged the brow of the plateau, looking down upon the town.

At half-past six a body of French troops were observed to leave their trenches, and, in skirmishing order, to make their way towards the Mamelon. The guns of the Russian fort roared out, but already the assailants were too close for these to have much effect. Soon a great shout from the spectators on the hill proclaimed that the Zouaves, who always led the French attacks, had gained the parapet. Then, from within, a host of figures surged up against the sky, and a curious conflict raged on the very summit of the work. Soon, however, the increasing mass of the French, as they streamed up, enabled them to maintain the footing they had gained, and pouring down into the fort, they drove the Russians from it, the French pouring out in their rear. Twice fresh bodies of Russian reserves, coming up, attempted to roll back the French attack; but these, exultant with success, pressed forward, and, in spite of the fire which the guns of the Round Tower fort poured upon them, drove their enemies down the hill. It was growing dark now, and it could with difficulty be seen how the fight was going. Fresh masses of French troops poured from their advance trenches into the Mamelon, and there was no question that that point was decidedly gained.

Still however, the battle raged around it. The Zouaves, flushed with success, attempted to carry the Round Tower with a rush, and swept up to the abattis surrounding it. The Russians brought up fresh supports, and the whole hill-side was alive with the flicker of musketry. The Russian guns of all the batteries bearing upon the scene of action opened it, while those of our right attack, which were close to the French, opened their fire to aid our allies. Had the Zouaves been supported, it is probable that they would have carried the Round Tower with their rush, but this was not in the plan of operations, and, after fighting heroically for some time, they fell back to the Mamelon.

The fight on the British side had been less exciting. With a sudden rush our men had leaped on the advance trenches and driven the Russians from their position in the quarries. Then, rapidly turning the gabions of the trenches, they prepared to hold the ground they had taken. They were not to maintain their conquest unmolested, for soon the Russians poured down masses of troops to retake it. All night long the flash of fire flickered round the position, and six times the Russian officers led up their troops to the attack.

Our assaulting force was over 1000 men, and out of these 365 men and thirty-five officers were killed or wounded. Had a stronger body been detailed, there is no doubt that the Redan, which was near the quarries, could have been taken, for it was almost empty of troops, and our men, in the impetuosity of their first assault, arrived close to it. Great discontent was felt that measures should not have been taken to follow up the success, and both our allies and our own troops felt that a great opportunity had been missed, owing to the want of forethought of their generals.

The next day there was an armistice, from one till six, to collect and bury the dead, and the officers and men of the contending parties moved over the ground which had been the scene of conflict, chatting freely together, exchanging cigars and other little articles. Jack, who had gone down with his commanding officer, created no slight astonishment among the Russians by conversing with them in their own language. In answer to their questions, he told them that he had been a prisoner among them, and begged them to forward a note which he had that morning written to Count Preskoff at Berislav, acquainting him that he had made his escape across the Russian frontier, and had rejoined the army, for he thought it probable that the letter which he had given to Count Stanislaus to post, after he left him, might never have come to hand.

At six o'clock the guns again re-opened; the Russians having made good use of their time in arming fresh batteries to counteract the effect of the works we had carried. We had indeed hard work in maintaining our hold of the quarries, which were commanded by several batteries, whose position placed them outside the range of our guns. Our loss was very heavy, as also was that of the French in the Mamelon, which was made a centre for the Russian fire.

On the nights of the 16th and 17th some of the British and French ships stood in close to Sebastopol, and kept up a heavy fire upon the town. On the 16th it was decided by Marshal Pelissier and Lord Raglan that the assault should take place on the morning of the 18th of June, and every arrangement was made for the attack. The British force told off for the work consisted of detachments of the light, second, and third divisions, and was divided into three columns. Sir John Campbell had charge of the left, Colonel Shadforth of the right, and Colonel Lacy Yea of the centre column. General Barnard was directed to take his brigade of the third division down to a ravine near the quarries, while General Eyre moved his brigade of the same division still farther along. His orders were that in case of the assault on the Redan being successful, he should attack the works on its right.

On the French left, three columns, each 6000 strong, under General De Salles, were to attack three of the Russian bastions; while on their right, three columns of equal force were to attack the Russian positions: General D'Autemarre assailing the Gervais battery and the right flank of the Malakoff, General Brunet to fall upon the left flank of the Malakoff and the little Redan from the Mamelon, while General Mayrau was to carry the Russian battery near the careening creek.

Thus the French were to assault in six columns, numbering in all 36,000 men, with reserves of 25,000. Our assaulting columns contained only 1200 men, while 10,000 were in reserve. The attack was to commence at day-break, but by some mistake the column of General Mayrau attacked before the signal was given. In a few minutes they were repulsed with great loss, their general being mortally wounded. Four thousand of the Imperial Guard were sent to their assistance, and three rockets being fired as a signal, the assault was made all along the line. The Russians, however, had been prepared for what was coming by the assault on their left. Their reserves were brought up, the Redan was crowded with troops, the guns were loaded with grape, and as the little English columns leaped from their trenches and rushed to the assault, they were received with tremendous fire.

The inevitable result of sending 1000 men to attack a tremendously strong position, held by ten times their own strength, and across a ground swept by half a dozen batteries, followed. The handful of British struggled nobly forward, broken up into groups by the irregularity of the ground and by the gaps made by the enemy's fire.

Parties of brave men struggled up to the very abattis of the Redan, and there, unsupported and powerless, were shot down. Nothing could exceed the bravery which our soldiers manifested. But their bravery was in vain. The three officers in command of the columns, Sir John Campbell, Colonel Shadforth, and Colonel Yea, were all killed. In vain the officers strove to lead their men to an attack. There were indeed scarce any to lead, and the Russians, in mockery of the foolishness of such an attack, stood upon their parapets and asked our men why they did not come in. At last, the remnants of the shattered columns were called off. Upon the left, the brigade under General Eyre carried the cemetery by a sudden attack. But so hot a fire was opened upon him that it was with difficulty the position could be held.

This, however, was the sole success of the day. Both, the French columns were repulsed with heavy loss from the Malakoff, and although Gervais battery was carried, it could not be maintained.

The naval brigade furnished four parties of sixty men to carry scaling-ladders and wool-bags. Two of these parties were held in reserve, and did not advance. Captain Peel was in command, and was wounded, as was Mr. Wood, a midshipman of H.M.S. "Queen," who acted as his aide-de-camp. The three officers of one detachment were all wounded, and of the other one was killed, and one wounded.

Jack had in the morning regretted that he was not in orders for the service, but when at night the loss which those who bad taken part in it had suffered was known, he could not but congratulate himself that he had not been detailed for the duty. The total British loss was twenty-two officers and 247 men killed, seventy-eight officers and 1207 men wounded. The French lost thirty-nine officers killed, and ninety-three wounded, 1600 men killed or taken prisoners and about the same number wounded; so that our losses were enormously greater than those of the French in proportion to our numbers. The Russians admitted a loss of 5800 killed and wounded.

Jack was with many others a spectator of this scene from Cathcart Hill; but it must not be imagined that even a vague idea of what was passing could be gleaned by the lookers-on. The Redan, which was the point of view immediately opposite, was fully a mile away. In a few minutes from the commencement of the fight the air was thick with smoke, and the din of battle along so extended a front was so continuous and overpowering that it was impossible to judge by the sound of firing how the fight was going on at any particular point.

Upon the night before there was a general sanguine feeling as to the success of the attack, and many a laughing invitation was given to future dinners in the hotels of Sebastopol. Great, then, was the disappointment when, an hour after its opening, the tremendous roll of musketry gradually died away, while the fire of the allied batteries angrily opened, telling the tale that all along the line the allies had been defeated, save only for the slight success at the cemetery.

Eagerly were the wounded questioned, as, carried on stretchers, or slowly and painfully making their way upon foot, they ascended the hill. In most of them regret at their defeat or anger at the incompetence of those who had rendered defeat certain, predominated over the pain of the wounds.

"Be jabers," said a little Irishman, "but it was cruel work entirely. There was myself and six others and the captain made our way up to a lot of high stakes stuck in the ground before the place. We looked round, and divil another soul was there near. We couldn't climb over the stakes, and if we had got over 'em there was a deep ditch beyond, and no way of getting in or out. And what would have been the good if we had, when there were about 50,000 Russians inside a-shouting and yelling at the top of their voices, and a-firing away tons of ammunition? We stopped there five minutes, it may be, waiting to see if any one else was coming, and then when four of us was killed and the captain wounded, I thought it time to be laving; so I lifted him up and carried him in, and got an ugly baste of a Russian bullet into my shoulder as I did so. Ye may call it fightin', but it's just murder I call it meself."

Something like this was the tale told by scores of wounded men, and it is little wonder that, sore with defeat and disappointment, and heart-sick at the loss which had been suffered, the feelings of the army found vent in deep grumblings at the generals who had sent out a handful of men to assault a fortress.

The next day there was another truce to allow of the burial of the dead and the collection of the wounded who lay thickly on the ground between the rival trenches. It did not take place, however, till four in the afternoon, by which time the wounded had been lying for thirty hours without water or aid, the greater portion of the time exposed to the heat of a burning sun.

Ten days later Lord Raglan died. He was a brave soldier, an honorable man, a most courteous and perfect English gentleman, but he was most certainly not a great general. He was succeeded by General Simpson, who appears to have been chosen solely because he had, as a lad, served in the Peninsula; the authorities seeming to forget that for the work upon which the army was engaged, no school of war could compare with that of the Crimea itself, and that generals who had received their training there were incomparably fitter for the task than any others could be.

Two days after the repulse at the Redan, Jack was delighted by the entry of his brother into his tent. Harry had of course left England before the receipt of Jack's letter written when he had crossed the frontier, and was overwhelmed with delight at the news which he had received ten minutes before, on arriving at the camp, that his brother was alive, and was again with the naval brigade close by. Jack's tent-mates were fortunately absent, and the brothers were therefore able to enjoy the delight of their meeting alone, and, when the first rapture was over, to sit down for a long talk. Jack was eager to learn what had happened at home, of which he had heard nothing for six months, and which Harry had so lately left. He was delighted to hear that all were well; that his elder sister was engaged to be married; and that although the shock of the news of his death had greatly affected his mother she had regained her strength, and would, Harry was sure, be as bright and cheerful as ever when she heard of his safety. Not till he had received answers to every question about home would Jack satisfy his brother's curiosity as to his own adventures, and then he astonished him indeed with an account of what he had gone through.

"Well, Jack, you are a lucky fellow!" Harry said, when he had finished. "To think of your having gone through all those adventures and living to tell of them. Why, it will be something to talk about all your life."

"And you, Harry, are you quite recovered?"

"I am as well as ever," Harry said. "It was a case of typhus and frost-bite mixed. I lost two of my toes, and they were afraid that I should be lame in consequence. However, I can march well enough for all practical purposes, though I do limp a little. As to the typhus, it left me very weak; but I soon picked up when the wind from England was blowing in my face. Only to think that all the time I was grieving for you as dead and buried by the Russians among the hills over there that you were larking about with those jolly Russian girls."

"Oh, yes, that's all very well," Jack said. "But you must remember that all that pretty nearly led to my being hung or shot; and it was a hot time among those Poles, too, I can tell you."

The next few days passed quietly. On the 12th of July Jack rode out with his commanding officer, who, with many others, accompanied the reconnaissance made by the Turks and French, on a foraging and reconnoitring party, towards Baidar, but they did not come in contact with the Russians.

Both parties still worked steadily at their trenches. The French were fortunate in having soft ground before them, and were rapidly pushing their advances up towards the Malakoff. This position, which could without difficulty have been seized by the allies at the commencement was in reality the key of the Russian position. Its guns completely commanded the Redan, and its position would render that post untenable, while the whole of the south side of Sebastopol would lay at our mercy. In front of the English the ground was hard and stony, and it was next to impossible to advance our trenches towards the Redan, and the greater portion of the earth indeed had to be carried in sacks on men's backs from points in the rear.

The working parties were also exposed to a cross-fire, and large numbers of men were killed every day.

On the 31st a tremendous storm broke upon the camp, but the soldiers were now accustomed to such occurrences, the tents were well secured, and but little damage was suffered. Save for a few sorties by the Russians, the next fortnight passed quietly.

The cavalry were now pushed some distance inland, and the officers made up parties to ride through the pretty valleys and visit the villas and country houses scattered along the shores.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE BATTLE OF THE TCHERNAYA

On the evening of the 15th of August several Tartars brought in news that the Russians were preparing for an attack; but so often had similar rumors been received that little attention was paid to their statements. It was known indeed that they had received very large reinforcements, and the troops had been several times called under arms to resist their repeated attacks. These, however, had all passed off quietly, and when the troops retired to rest none thought that a great battle was going to take place on the morrow.

The Tchernaya, after leaving the valley of Baidar, flows between a number of low swells of ground, and formed the front of the allied armies on the plains. On the extreme right the Turks were stationed. Next them came the Sardinians, whose position extended from a stream flowing into the Tchernaya at right angles to an eminence known as Mount Hasfort. In front, and divided from it by an aqueduct which, too, ran parallel to the river, was another hillock accessible from the first by a stone bridge at which the Sardinians had a breastwork. Their outposts extended some distance on the other side of the Tchernaya. The French occupied a series of hillocks to the left of the Sardinians, guarding the road leading from Balaklava to McKenzie's farm. The river and aqueduct both flowed along their front. The road crossed the former by a bridge known as the Traktia Bridge, the latter by a stone bridge. In front of the Traktia Bridge was a breastwork.