The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XXVII. THE FRENCH RETREAT

  Let us now turn to the Knight of Gwynne, who, wounded and bleeding,was carried along in the torrent of the retreat. Poor fellow, he hadwitnessed the total slaughter or capture of the gallant band he had sobravely led into action but a few hours before, and now, with one armpowerless, and a sabre-cut in the side, could barely keep up with thehurried steps of the flying army.

  From the few survivors among his followers, not one of whom wasunwounded, he received every proof of affectionate devotion. If theywere proud of the gallant old officer as their leader, they actuallyloved him like a father. The very last incident of their struggle wasan effort to cut through the closing ranks of the French, and secure hisescape; and although one of the Volunteers almost lifted him into thesaddle, from which he had torn the rider, Darcy would not leave hiscomrades, but cried out, "What signifies a prisoner more or less, lads?The victory is ours; let that console us." The brave fellow who hadperilled his life for his leader was cut down at the same instant. Darcysaw him bleeding and disarmed, and had but time to throw him his lastpistol, when he was driven onward, and, in the mingled confusion of themovement, beheld him no more.

  The exasperation of a defeat so totally unlooked for had made the Frenchalmost savage in their vindictiveness, and nothing but the greatestefforts on the part of the officers could have saved the prisoners fromthe cruel vengeance of the infuriated soldiery. As it was, insultingepithets, oaths, and obnoxious threats met them at every moment ofthe halt; and at each new success of the British their fury broke outafresh, accompanied by menacing gestures that seemed to dare and defyevery fear of discipline.

  Darcy, whom personal considerations were ever the last to influence,smiled at these brutal demonstrations, delighted at heart to witnesssuch palpable evidence of insubordination in the enemy; nor could he, inthe very midst of outrages which perilled his life, avoid comparing tohis followers the French troops of former days with these soldiers ofthe Republic. "I remember them at Quebec," said he, "under Montcalm.It may be too much to say that the spirit of a monarchy had imparted asense of chivalry to its defenders, but certainly it is fair to thinkthat the bloody orgies of a revolutionary capital have made a ruffianand ruthless soldiery."

  Nor was this the only source of consolation open; for he beheld on everyside of him, in the disorder of the force, the moral discouragementof the army, and the meagre preparations made for the defence ofAlexandria. Wounded and weary, he took full note of these variouscircumstances, and made them the theme of encouragement to hiscompanions in captivity. "There is little here, lads," said he, "tomake us fear a long imprisonment. The gallant fellows, whose watch-firescrown yonder hills, will soon bivouac here. All these preparationsdenote haste and inefficiency. These stockades will offer faintresistance, their guns seem in many instances unserviceable, and fromwhat we have seen of their infantry to-day, we need never fear the issueof a struggle with them."

  In the brief intervals of an occasional halt, he lost no opportunityof remarking the appearance of the enemy's soldiery,--their bearing andtheir equipment,--and openly communicated to his comrades his opinionthat the French army was no longer the formidable force it had beenrepresented to be, and that the first heavy reverse would be itsdismemberment. In all the confidence a foreign language suggests, hespoke his mind freely and without reserve, not sparing the officers inhis criticisms, which now and then took a form of drollery that drewlaughter from the other prisoners. It was at the close of some remark ofthis kind, and while the merriment had not yet subsided, that a Frenchmajor, who had more than once shown interest for the venerable oldsoldier, rode close up to his side, and whispered a few words offriendly caution in his ear, while by an almost imperceptible gesture hepointed to a group of prisoners who accompanied the Knight's party, andpersisted in pressing close to where he walked. These were four dragoonsof Hompesch's regiment, then serving with the British army, but acorps which had taken no part in the late action. Darcy could not helpwondering at their capture,--a feeling not devoid of distrust, as heremarked that neither their dress nor accoutrements bore any traceof the fierce struggle, while their manner exhibited a degree of rudeassurance and effrontery, rather than the regretful feelings of mentaken prisoners.

  Darcy's attention was not permitted to dwell much more on thecircumstance, for at the same instant the column was halted, in orderthat the wounded might pass on; and in the sad spectacle that nowpresented itself, all memory of his own griefs was merged. Theprocession was a long one, and seemed even more so than it was, fromthe frequent halts in front, the road being choked up by tumbrels andwagons, all confusedly mixed up in the hurry of retreat. Night was nowfalling fast, but still there was light enough to descry the ghastlylooks of the poor fellows, suffering in every variety of agony. Somesought vent to their tortures by shouts and cries of pain; otherspreserved a silence that seemed from their agonized features an effortas dreadful as the very wounds themselves; many were already mad withsuffering, and sang and blasphemed, with shrieks of mingled recklessnessand misery. What a terrible reverse to the glory of war, and how fardeeper into the heart do such scenes penetrate than all the triumphs themost successful campaign has ever gathered! While Darcy still gazed onthis sad sight, he was gently touched on the arm by the same officer whohad addressed him before, saying, "There is an English soldier here amongthe wounded, who wishes to speak with you; it is against my orders topermit it, but be brief and cautious." With a motion to a litter somepaces in the rear, the officer moved on to his place in the column, norwaited for any reply.

  The Knight lost not a second in profiting by the kind suggestion, but inthe now thickening, gloom it was some time before he could discoverthe object of his search. At length he caught sight of the well-knownuniform of his corps,--the blue jacket slashed with silver,--as it wasthrown loosely over the figure, and partly over the face of a woundedsoldier. Gently removing it, he gazed with steadfastness at the pale andbloodless countenance of a young and handsome man, who with half-closedeyelids lay scarcely breathing before him. "Do you know me, my poorfellow?" whispered Darcy, bending down over him,--"do you know me? For Ifeel as if we should know each other well, and had met before this." Thewounded man met his glance with a look of kind acknowledgment, but madeno effort to speak; a faint sigh broke from him, as with a tremuloushand he pushed back the jacket and showed a terrible bayonet-stab inthe chest, from which at each respiration the blood welled out in floridrivulets.

  "Where is the surgeon?" said Darcy, to the soldier beside the litter.

  "He is here, Monsieur," said a sharp-looking man, who, without coat andwith shirt-sleeves tucked up, came hastily forward.

  "Can you look to this poor fellow for me?" whispered Darcy, while hepressed into the not unwilling hand of the doctor a somewhat weightypurse.

  "We can do little more thau put a pad on a wounded vessel just now,"said the surgeon, as with practised coolness he split up with a scissorsthe portions of dress around the wound. "When we have them once housedin the hospital--Parbleu!" cried he, interrupting himself, "this is asevere affair."

  Darcy turned away while the remorseless fingers of the surgeon probedthe gaping incision, and then whispered low, "Can he recover?"

  "Ah! _mon Dieu!_ who knows? There is enough mischief here to kill halfa squadron; but some fellows get through anything. If we had him ina quiet chamber of the Faubourg, with a good nurse, and all stilland tranquil about him, there 's no saying; but here, with some sevenhundred others,--many as bad, some worse than himself,--the chancesare greatly against him. Come, however, we'll do our best for him." Sosaying, he proceeded to pass ligatures on some bleeding arteries; andalthough speaking rapidly all the while, his motions were even stillmore quick and hurried. "How old is he?" asked the surgeon, suddenly, ashe gazed attentively at the youth.

  "I can't tell you," said Darcy. "He belonged to my own corps, and by thelace on his jacket, I see, must have been a Volunteer; but I shame tosay I don't remember even his name." "He knows
_you_, then," repliedthe doctor, who, with the shrewd perception of his craft, watched theworking of the sick man's features. "Is't not so?" said he, stoopingdown and speaking with marked distinctness. "You know your colonel?"

  A gesture, too faint to be called a nod of the head, and a slight motionof the eyebrows, seemed to assent to this question; and Darcy, whoselaboring faculties struggled to bring up some clew to the memory of aface he was convinced he had known before, was about to speak again,when a mounted orderly, with a led horse beside him, rode up to thespot, and looking round for a few seconds, as if in search of some one,said,--

  "The English colonel, I believe?" The Knight nodded. "You are tomount this horse, sir," continued the orderly, "and proceed to thehead-quarters at once."

  The doctor whispered a few hasty sentences, and while promising tobestow his greatest care upon the sick man, assured Darcy that at thehead-quarters he would soon obtain admission of the wounded Volunteerinto the officers' hospital. Partly comforted by this, and partlyyielding to what he knew was the inevitable course of fortune, theKnight took a farewell look of his follower, and mounted the horseprovided for him.

  Darcy was too much engrossed by the interest of the wounded soldier'scase to think much on what might await himself; nor did he notice forsome time that they had left the high-road by which the troops weremarching for a narrower causeway, leading, as it seemed, not into, butat one side of Alexandria. It mattered so little to him, however, whichway they followed, that he paid no further attention, nor was he awareof their progress, till they entered a little mud-built village, whichswarmed with dogs, and miserable-looking half-clothed Arabs.

  "How do they call this village?" said the Knight, speaking now for thefirst time to his guide.

  "El Etscher," replied the soldier; "and here we halt" At the same momenthe dismounted at the door of a low, mean-looking house; and havingushered Darcy into a small room dimly lighted by a lamp, departed.

  The Knight listened to the sharp tramp of the horses' feet as they movedaway; and when they had gone beyond hearing, the silence that followedfell heavily and drearily on his spirits. After sitting for some time inexpectation of seeing some one sent after him, he arose and went to thedoor, but there now stood a sentry posted. He returned at once withinthe room, and partly overcome by fatigue, and partly from the confusionof his own harassed thoughts, he leaned his head on the table and sleptsoundly.

  "Pardon, Monsieur le colonel," said a voice at his ear, as, some hourslater in the night, he was awakened from his slumbers. "You will bepleased to follow me." Darcy looked up and beheld a young officer, whostood respectfully before him; and though for a second or so he couldnot remember where he was, the memory soon came back, and without a wordhe followed his conductor.

  The officer led the way across a dirty, ill-paved courtyard, andentered a building beyond it of greater size, but apparently not lessdilapidated than that they had quitted. From the hall, which was lightedwith a large lamp, they could perceive through an open door a range ofstables filled with horses; at the opposite side a door correspondingwith this one, at which a dragoon stood with his carbine on his arm. Ata word from the officer the soldier moved aside and permitted them toenter.

  The room into which they proceeded was large, but almost destituteof furniture. A common deal table stood in the middle, littered withmilitary cloaks, swords, and shakos. In one corner was a screen, frombehind which the only light proceeded; and, with a gesture towards this,the officer motioned Darcy to advance, while with noiseless footsteps hehimself withdrew.

  Darcy moved forward, and soon came within the space enclosed by thescreen, and in front of an officer in a plain uniform, who was busilyengaged in writing. Maps, returns, printed orders, and letters laystrewed about him, and in the small brazier of burning wood beside himmight be seen the charred remains of a great heap of papers. Darcy hadfull a minute to contemplate the figure before him ere he was noticed.The Frenchman was short and muscular, with a thick, bushy head of hair,bald in the centre of the head. His features were full of intelligenceand quickness, but more unmistakably denoted violence of temper, andthe coarse nature of one not born to his present rank, which seemed, atleast, that of a field officer. His hands were covered with rings, buttheir shape and color scarcely denoted that such ornaments were nativeto them.

  "Ha,--the English colonel,--sit down, sir," said he to Darcy, pointingto a chair without rising from his own. Darcy seated himself with theeasy composure of one who felt that in any situation his birth andbreeding made him unexceptionable company.

  "I wished to see you, sir. I have received orders, that is," saidhe, speaking with the greatest rapidity, and a certain thickness ofutterance very difficult to follow, "to send for you here, and makecertain inquiries, your answers to which will entirely decide theconduct of the Commander-in-Chief in your behalf. You are not aware,perhaps, how completely you have put this in our power?"

  "I suppose," said Darcy, smiling, "my condition as a prisoner of warmakes me subject to the usual hardships of such a lot; but I am notaware of anything, peculiar to my case, that would warrant you inproposing even one question which a gentleman and a British officercould refuse to answer."

  "There is exactly such an exception," replied the Frenchman, hastily."The proofs are very easy, and nearer at hand than you think of."

  "You have certainly excited my curiosity, sir," said the Knight, withcomposure; "you will excuse my saying that the feeling is unalloyed byany fear."

  "We shall see that presently," said the French officer rising andmoving towards the door of an apartment which Darcy had not noticed."Auguste," cried he, "is that report ready?" The answer was not audibleto the Knight. But the officer resumed, "No matter; it is sufficient forour purpose." And hastily taking a paper from the hands of a subaltern,he returned to his place within the screen. "A gentleman so conversantwith our language, it would be absurd to suppose ignorant of ourinstitutions. Now, sir, to make a very brief affair of this, you have,in contravention to a law passed in the second year of the Republic,ventured to apply opprobrious epithets to the forces of France,ridiculing the manner, bearing, and conduct of our troops, andinstituting comparison between the free citizens of a free state andthe miserable minions of a degraded monarchy. If a Frenchman,your accusation, trial, and sentence would have probably been nighaccomplished before this time. As a foreigner and a prisoner of war--"

  "I conclude such remarks as I pleased to make were perfectly open tome," added Darcy, finishing the sentence.

  "Then you admit the charge," said the Frenchman eagerly, as if he hadsucceeded in entrapping a confession.

  "So far, sir, as the expressions of my poor judgment on theeffectiveness of your army, and its chances against such a force aswe have yonder, I am not only prepared to avow, but if you think theremarks worth the trouble of hearing, to repeat them."

  "As a prisoner of war, sir, according to the eighty-fourth articleof the Code Militaire, the offence must be tried by a court-martial,one-half of whose members shall have the same rank as the accused."

  "I ask nothing better, sir, nor will I ever believe that any man who hascarried a sword could deem the careless comments of a prisoner on whathe sees around him a question of crime and punishment."

  "I would advise you to reflect a little, sir, ere you suffer matters toproceed so far. The witnesses against you--"

  "The witnesses!" exclaimed the Knight, in amazement.

  "Yes, sir, four dragoons of a German regiment, thoroughly conversantwith your language and ours, have deposed to the words--"

  "I avow everything I have spoken, and am ready to abide by it."

  "Take care, sir,--take care."

  "Pardon me, sir," said Darcy, with a look of quiet irony, "but itstrikes me that the exigencies of your army must be far greater thanI deemed them, or you had never had recourse to a system of attemptedintimidation."

  "You are in error there," said the Frenchman. "It was the desire toserve, not to injure you, suggested my
present course. It remains withyourself to show that my interest was not misplaced."

  "Let me understand you more clearly. What is expected of me?"

  "The answers to questions which doubtless every countryman of yoursand mine could reply to from the public papers, but which, to us here,remote from intercourse and knowledge, are matters of slow acquirement."While the French officer spoke, he continued to search among the papersbefore him for some document, and at length, taking up a small slip ofpaper, resumed: "For instance, the 'Moniteur' asserts that you meditatesending a force from India to cross the Red Sea and the Desert, andmenace us by an attack in the rear as well as in the front. This readsso like a fragment of an Oriental tale, that I can forgive the smilewith which you hear it."

  "Nay, sir; you have misinterpreted my meaning," said the Knight, calmly."I am free to confess I thought this intelligence was no secret. Theform of our Government, the public discussions of our Houses, thefreedom of our press, are little favorable to mystery. If you havenothing to ask of me more difficult to answer than this--"

  "And the expedition of Acre,--is this also correct?"

  "Perfectly so. A combined movement, which shall compel you to evacuatethe country, is in preparation."

  "_Parbleu_, sir," said the Frenchman, stamping his foot with impatience,"these are somewhat bold words for a man in your situation to one inmine."

  "I fancy, sir, that circumstance affects the issue I allude to veryslightly indeed; even though the officer to whom I address myself shouldbe General Menou, the Commander-in-Chief."

  "And if I be, sir, and if you know it," said Menou,--for it was he,--hisface suffused with anger, "is it consistent with the respect due to _my_position and to _your own_ safety, to speak thus?"

  "For the first, sir, although a mere surmise on my part, I humbly hopeI have made no transgression; for the last, I have very little reason tofeel any solicitude, knowing that if you hurt a hair of my head, a heavyreprisal will await such of your own officers as may be taken, and theevents of yesterday may have told you that a contingency of this sort isneither improbable nor remote."

  Menou made no answer to this threatening speech, but with folded armspaced the apartment for several minutes. At length he turned hastilyround, and fixing his eyes on the Knight, said, with a rude oath, "Youare a fortunate man, sir, that you did not hold this language to mypredecessor in the command. General Kleber would have had you in frontof a _peloton_ of grenadiers within five minutes after you uttered it."

  "I have heard as much," said the Knight, with a slight smile.

  Menou rang a bell which stood beside him, and an aide-de-camp entered.

  "Captain le Messurier," said he, in the ordinary tone of discipline,"this officer is under arrest. You will take the necessary steps forhis safe keeping, and his due appearance when summoned before a militarytribunal."

  He bowed to Darcy as he spoke, and, reseating himself at the table, tookup his pen to write.

  "At the hazard of being thought very hardy, sir," said the Knight, as hemoved towards the door, "I would humbly solicit a favor."

  "A favor!" exclaimed Menou, staring in surprise.

  "Yes, sir; it is that the services of a surgeon should be promptlyrendered--"

  "I have given orders on that score already. My own medical man shallattend to you."

  "I speak not of myself, sir. It is of a Volunteer of my corps, ayoung man who now lies badly wounded; his case is not without hope, ifspeedily looked to."

  "He must take his chance with others," said the general, gruffly, whilehe made a gesture of leave-taking; and Darcy, unable to prolong theinterview, retired.

  "I am sorry, sir," said the aide-de-camp, as he went along, "that myorders are peremptory, and you must, if the state of your health permit,at once leave this."

  "Is it thus your prisoners of war are treated, sir?" said Darcy,scornfully, "or am I to hope--for hope I do--that the exception iscreated especially for me?"

  The officer was silent; and although the flush of shame was on hischeek, the severe demands of duty overcame all personal feelings, and hedid not dare to answer.

  The Knight was not one of those on whom misfortune can press, withouteliciting in return the force of resistance, and, if not forgetting,at least combating, the indignities to which he had been subjected; heresigned himself patiently to his destiny, and after a brief delay setforth for his journey to Akrish, which he now learned was to be theplace of his confinement.