The Red, White, and Green Part 60

Nagy Sandor saw it too, and his face grew black as night.

"Paskewitch has brought up his reserves," he exclaimed, "and we have only a handful to oppose them. Well, we must do what we can."

He looked round for a messenger, and, seeing me, said, "Botskay, ride to the rear and tell Torot to bring up every man he has. You see that?"

and he pointed to the Russian movement on our right.

I bowed, and rode off to find Torot.

Two infantry divisions, supported by four field-batteries, were preparing to attack us in our weakest place; while far away on the right a column of infantry and a division of cavalry were marching by a wide circuit towards the town.

As for us, every man except the reserve had been fighting for hours against overwhelming odds, and there was not one to be spared from his place.

With a heavy heart I told Torot what was happening, and glanced disconsolately at his small body of troops.

"The Muscovites will swallow us up," said he cheerfully. "However, there's the order; so off we go."

I placed myself with the cavalry, and we moved out in good order from the shelter of the hills.

In the centre our guns maintained an equal conflict, but our right was terribly weakened, and incapable of resisting this fresh attack.

The poor fellows so sadly hara.s.sed greeted us with loud cheers, though really we could do little more than swell the number of dead and wounded.

I do not know who led the cavalry charge, but he was a gallant fellow and deserved a better fate.

The nearest battery was our goal, and few of us that survived will ever forget that terrible ride.

It was almost the last blow we were to strike in defence of our flag, though we did not know it then.

The colonel pointed to the battery that was dealing out death to our comrades.

"My lads," he said simply, "it is for us to take those guns."

The men shook their swords, answering by a savage cheer.

The battle had got on their nerves. They were desperate, and cared nothing at all for the fact that three-fourths of us were going to meet death.

It was the culminating point of the fight. All around rose the roar of the guns, the cheers and groans of the combatants, the tramp of rushing feet, the rattle of artillery.

A blaze of light on the left marked where a powder tumbrel had exploded.

Yells of victory and defiance came from the same spot, but we rode on steadily with the fixed idea of capturing the guns in front of us.

A decimated infantry regiment, going goodness knows where, paused to cheer us; but we sped onward, gathering speed at every stride--gathering such momentum that I doubt if we could have stopped.

The colonel was a horse's length in front, going straight for the battery, when the first crash came.

The shot tore holes through our ranks, and men shrieked with pain; but the survivors never drew rein, and in an instant our dead were left behind.

At the second discharge the gallant colonel reeled to and fro in his saddle; but he kept his seat, though I knew he must be mortally wounded.

Again the guns spoke, and this time both horse and man dropped; but I took our leader's place, and still we went on like a company of mad furies.

I dared not look behind, I dared not even think. I could only shake my sword and cry "Forward!"

Then we were in the midst of the guns, slashing at the artillerymen, who fought us till the very end.

But we did what we had been sent to do, and cheered exultingly as we emerged on the other side.

Alas! that cheer was the death-knell of many.

Whiz! whiz! sang the bullets as a battalion of infantry, hitherto hidden by a depression in the ground, sprang to their feet and poured volley after volley into us.

Broken by our charge, disordered, panting, we waited a moment irresolutely, then tried to form up and return.

Only the maddest of madmen would have faced this fresh enemy.

But the horror was not yet at an end.

As we rode back, a mere handful of wearied men, a dense ma.s.s of heavy cavalry barred our path.

Flight was impossible. There were but two alternatives--surrender or death.

The Magyars chose the latter, and, gripping our swords firmly, we went straight at the grey-coated ma.s.s, and were instantly swallowed up.

There was no time for parrying of blows; we had to take our chance, and, cutting and thrusting, try to force a pa.s.sage.

"Follow me, my lads! follow me!" I shouted, as long as my voice held out, but before the end of the fight I was past speaking.

I do not know how many of us got through. My head was dizzy, my sight dim. I heard a babel of sounds without being able to distinguish one, and sat my horse only by mechanically gripping the pommel of my saddle.

Then a number of black figures surrounded me; and in the midst of this, to me, phantom army I swept on into the land of darkness.

CHAPTER XXII.

_THE SURRENDER._

It seemed perfectly natural that the first face to meet my waking senses should be that of Mecsey Sandor.

I was lying on a bed in a little room, rather bare of furniture, but scrupulously clean, and my trusty servant stood looking at me.

On seeing my open eyes, he placed himself at attention, made a rigid military salute, and said with all seriousness, "I am sorry to report, Captain Botskay, that the Russian officer left in my charge has been rescued by his friends."

At first I stared hard at him without understanding, then I broke into a hearty laugh that must have done me a world of good.

"Hang the Russian officer!" I exclaimed; "tell me where I am and how I came here."