With Marlborough to Malplaquet Part 8

"Humph, Mr. Fieldsend," Marlborough began, when he had glanced over the contents of the short epistle. "You are a lucky young fellow to have got Sir George's good word. But where is the lad he speaks of--Fairburn, I see?"

"Just outside, your Grace," was the reply, and at a nod the lieutenant fetched George in.

The Duke scanned the boy's ruddy face and took note of his st.u.r.dy figure.

"My lad," he began, "you have begun early. Do you know what request Sir George makes in this note?"

"No, sir--my Lord Duke," George stammered in reply, his knees almost shaking under him.

"He recommends you for a commission as ensign," the Duke said quietly, the boy standing almost open-mouthed. "We will give you a short trial first, for as yet we don't know you. No doubt we soon shall." And the great man smiled.

He rapped smartly on the table and an aide-de-camp entered the tent, saluting.

"Here, Mr. Blackett," Marlborough gave the order, "take this lad to your captain, who will see that he is enrolled in your company."

The next moment George Fairburn was shaking the other hard by the hand, the astonishment on both sides too great to admit of a word between them.

CHAPTER VII

BLENHEIM

"Now I can thank you, my dear Fairburn! We shall never forget it!"

were the first words Blackett uttered, and he pressed George's hand once more in his warm grip.

"Forget what, Blackett?" the other asked in surprise, "and for what do you thank me?"

"Surely you have not forgotten it all, my dear fellow--Mary--the fire--your splendid rescue!"

"Ah!" cried George, "and you have been keeping that in mind all this time?"

"Not a doubt of that. As I have just said, and repeat, we can never forget it. From that day you became the dearest friend of our family, if you will let us call you so."

"Let you! Heaven knows I am more than delighted to be so. We are no longer silly schoolboys to fight for the merest trifle."

The reconciliation between the old rivals was complete, and the two boys chatted long together.

"But you are in a cavalry regiment, I see," remarked George presently, "and a lieutenant. I understood from my father's letter that you had joined a line regiment with an ensign's commission."

"So I did, my boy; but there are queer turns of fortune in war, and one of them came to me--only a week or two since, it was." And the lieutenant laughed pleasantly.

"Tell me how it was," said George, eagerly.

"It is like singing my own praises, Fairburn," the young officer went on, "but here goes. I'll put it in a score of words. All last year I went as Ensign Blackett, seeing bits of service here, there, and everywhere--at Bonn, on the Rhine, then at Huy, and again at Guelders--but there was no chance for me. But this summer, as we were marching here, not a man of us except the Duke himself, with a notion why we were coming this way at all, we stopped to storm the Sch.e.l.lenberg, a hill overlooking the Danube near Donauworth. We were all dog tired--dead beat, in fact, for we had marched till we were almost blind. However, as it was the Duke's, day, he set us at it."

"Duke's day?" interrupted George, in surprise; "isn't every day the Duke's day?"

"It's a funny thing," went on Blackett, laughing, "but as a matter of fact at that time the Duke was taking alternate days of command with the Prince of Baden."

"A queer go!" the listener interjected.

"Well, to cut my tale short, we made two attacks on that hill, and both times were driven back. Things began to look like a drawn game, when up comes Louis, the Prince, you know, with a lot of his Germans, and at it we went again. In the thick of it, my colonel suddenly called out, 'Can you ride, Blackett?' 'Try me, sir,' I says. And he gave me a note for the Duke, telling me that he had not another officer left who could ride, all our fellows had been laid low or dispersed. I galloped off like the wind, on a big hard-mouthed brute.

Just as I was nearing the spot where the Duke stood, a dozen Bavarians suddenly blocked my path and levelled their muskets. I was on a bit of a slope and above their heads, in a manner, so I kicked up my nag and in an instant I flew over them, guns and all. It was a clean jump, and not a shot hit me, by good luck. My horse managed to carry me on to the Duke, and then fell dead. The poor beggar had caught what had been intended for me. Well, now I've done. The Duke, who had seen it all, had me transferred to a cavalry regiment, with the rank of lieutenant, and here I am."

"Yes, and here am I, a private, talking in this off-hand sort of way to a commissioned officer."

"That's all right, Fairburn," laughed Blackett, "we haven't entered you yet. It'll be quite time enough to bother about that sort of thing then. Officially we shall have to be master and man; actually we shall be brothers."

Thus the ancient rivals became comrades in arms, and members of the same regiment, for George from that time was a cavalry man. His other friend, Fieldsend, was attached to a line regiment again.

Bit by bit Lieutenant Blackett, during the next days, contrived to give his friend a full and vivid account of the great battle of Blenheim, just won by the Allies. He was not a great hand at a tale, whatever he might be on the field, and we may piece together his story for him. His adventures and his doings in that memorable fight may well delay our tale for a little s.p.a.ce.

That year Louis of France had determined to make a vigorous effort, or rather a series of efforts, and sent various armies to oppose the different members of the Grand Alliance. But his main plan was to attack the Empire, making Bavaria, the Elector of which was his only supporter in that part of the world, his advance post. For some time Louis had been secretly encouraging Hungary in the rebellion she was contemplating. He trusted, therefore, that the Emperor would find himself attacked by his Hungarian subjects to rearward, while he was engaged with the combined French and Bavarian forces in front. It was a very fine scheme.

But there was one man, and only one, who saw through it--Marlborough.

At once the Duke set off southwards, carrying with him also a force of Dutchmen, deceiving their rulers by a ruse. He sent for the valiant Prince Eugene to meet him, and the two famous generals saw each other for the first time. Mutual admiration and friendship sprang up between them, to last through the rest of their lives. Prince Louis of Baden had given some trouble by wishing to share the command with Marlborough. Him they at last got rid of by sending him to take the important fortress of Ingolstadt, commanding the Danube. Marlborough's magnificent march from the Netherlands to the upper Danube is one of the finest things in military story.

Marlborough and Prince Eugene met with the French and Bavarian forces near the village of Blenheim, on the same river, and close to Hochstadt, the scene of the defeat of the allied troops the year before, and joyfully the leaders prepared to join battle. The commanders on the side of the enemy were Marshal Marsin, the Prince of Bavaria, and Marshal Tallard. The last of these had managed to slip past Eugene some time before and join his colleagues.

The order of battle on the side of the Allies was this. The right was commanded by Eugene, the left by Lord Cutts, a gallant officer, the centre, a vast body of cavalry mainly, by Marlborough himself. Opposed to Eugene were the Elector and Marsin, while Tallard faced the Duke, but on the farther bank of the little brook Nebel, which empties itself into the Danube just below. Tallard's centre was weak, as he had crowded no fewer than seventeen battalions into the village of Blenheim, on his extreme right and close to the bank of the great river.

"Now, gentlemen, to your posts." These words, quietly and pleasantly spoken by Marlborough, began the great battle of Blenheim. It was about midday, August 13, 1704. The Duke had been waiting till he heard that Prince Eugene was ready, and he had occupied the interval in breakfast and prayers. Every man of his division was provided with a good meal. He himself had attended divine service and had received the sacrament the evening before.

Lieutenant Blackett found himself one of a body of 8,000 cavalry, which were ordered to cross the Nebel so as to be within striking distance of Tallard's troops drawn up beyond the brook. This work of crossing was likely to be a long and tedious, not to say a difficult bit of business, the intervening ground being very boggy. Matthew was far towards the rear of this large body of horse, and it was evident that it would be hours before his turn came to cross. In company with hundreds of his comrades, he began to long for something more exciting.

The first division to get into serious action was that under the brave Lord Cutts, to the left of the allied forces. Cutts went by the nickname of Salamander, so indifferent was he to danger when under fire. This gallant leader led his men to attack the village of Blenheim. Twice the a.s.sault was made with the utmost vigour and determination; twice Cutts was driven back. The village was not only filled with an immense force of French, but was protected by a strong palisade.

A horseman was presently seen galloping towards the spot where the Duke was posted, and his movements were watched with interest by Blackett and others of the cavalry waiting their orders to cross.

"Seems to me he is wounded," the lieutenant observed to a man near him; to which the other replied, "Yes, he does seem wobbly, doesn't he?"

Hardly had the words been spoken when the advancing rider suddenly fell from his horse, which kept on, however, dragging his master along by the stirrup. Without a second's delay, Blackett threw his own beast across the track of the runaway steed, caught his head, and pulled him up. Then in a moment the youngster was down on the ground to the a.s.sistance of the poor fellow who had fallen.

"To the Duke!" the man cried, glancing at a note he held tightly clutched in his hand. "Quick!" he moaned; "I'm shot through the back, and done for!"

"Poor fellow!" murmured the lieutenant, and he seized the letter, sprang with a bound into his saddle, and was off like the wind, before his companions had quite realized what it all meant. Thus for the second time within a few days Matthew Blackett presented himself before his commander in the part of unofficial aide-de-camp. The Duke nodded as he recognized the lad, and, pencilling a few words of reply, said, "To Lord Cutts; then back to your post." And as Blackett rode off like the wind in a bee-line for Cutts's division, Marlborough murmured, "A fearless fox-hunter, I'll be bound." The order, it was afterwards found, was for Cutts to make no more attempts on Blenheim, but to hold himself in readiness when his services should again be requisitioned.

Meanwhile, Prince Eugene was having a lively time of it on the right wing. He began by leading a cavalry charge against the French and Bavarians, who were under the command of Marsin and the Elector respectively. In a few minutes he had forced back the front line and had captured a battery of six guns. On he sped to confront the second line, and the opposing forces met with a tremendous shock. For a moment all was doubtful, but the enemy stood their ground stoutly.

Eugene could make no impression and had to fall back. By this time the scattered front line of the French had rallied, and, in spite of the Prince's desperate efforts, the battery was retaken. The danger to that division of the allied forces soon became extreme. To save the day, Eugene immediately galloped away in person, and returned presently, bringing a body of Prussian infantry he had in reserve. The help of these alone saved him from defeat.

At last! Blackett and his comrades were ordered to advance, and moved towards the Nebel. The ground was in a shockingly bad state. At its best marshy and water-logged, it was now a sea of mire. The worst spots had been bridged over, as it were, by the help of fascines, with here and there pontoons. By this time, however, many of these had been shifted from their places by the pa.s.sage of so many thousands of horse, and the road became worse and worse as the burn was neared. In one place the men were compelled to come to a full stop, the ground being simply impa.s.sable.

"We cannot advance, gentlemen," cried the colonel commanding the regiment, "till we have done some repairs. Now for willing hands!"

Some of the officers glanced dubiously at the mud in which the horses were standing knee-deep, and they did not budge. Not so Matthew Blackett; with a bound he sprang to the ground, and waded through the mire, half of his long legs submerged, his brethren endeavouring to keep their countenances.