by G. A. Henty
Fergus was in no hurry to proceed. He knew that there was not the smallest possibility of operations being commenced until the snow disappeared, which might not be until the end of March. He therefore took matters very quietly, keeping entirely indoors as long as the snow continued to fall, and going out as little as possible, afterwards.
He was glad, indeed, when the news came that the pass was clear. As soon as the gates were unlocked he pressed on, in order to get ahead of a large convoy of carts, laden with warm clothing for the soldiers, that was also waiting for the pass to be opened. In spite of all that had been done, it was rough work passing through the defile, and he did not arrive at Krumnau until nearly sunset. Budweis lay but a few miles farther ahead, but he had made up his mind not to stop there, as it was a large garrisoned town, and the small places suited him better.
Passing through the town, next day, he continued his course along the road near the river Moldau. He made but short journeys, for the snow had not yet hardened, and it was very heavy riding. He therefore took four days in getting to Prague.
He thought it probable that here a watch might be kept for him for, had he travelled straight from Spielberg, this was the point for which, in all probability, he would have made; unless he had gone through Silesia, and then travelled up through Breslau. He therefore made a circuit of the picturesque old city, entered it by a western gate, and then rode straight for the bridge. He had slept at a place but four miles distant, and had started at daybreak, so that it was still early in the day when he proceeded on his way.
He stopped at a small town, ten miles farther north. Two or three squadrons of cavalry were quartered there. The landlord at the inn where he put up at once asked for his papers. These he took to the town offices, where they were stamped as being in due order. Half an hour later, as Fergus was at his meal, two officers entered.
“Your papers appear to be right, sir,” one of them said courteously; “but in times like these, it is our duty to examine closely into these matters. You come from Vienna?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which way did you travel?”
“By way of Linz and Budweis,” he said. “The snow began on the day before I left the capital, and I was advised to take that route, as the road would be more level, and less likely to be blocked with snow than that through Horn. You will see that my paper was stamped at Linz, and also at Freystadt.
“I was detained at the latter place seven days. For the first three it snowed, and for the next four days the garrison was occupied, with the aid of troops from Budweis, in opening the defile.”
The officer nodded.
“I happen to know that your story is correct, sir, and that it accounts fully for your movements since leaving Vienna. Which way do you intend to cross the passes into Saxony?”
“I must be guided by what I hear of their state. I had hoped to have got back before the snow began to fall in earnest, but I should think that the road by the river will now be the best.”
“I should think so,” the officer said, “but even that will be bad enough. However, I will not detain you farther.”
They moved away to another table and, calling for a bottle of wine, sat down.
“No, we are mistaken. I don’t think the fellow would have the bare-faced impudence to come through Prague,” one said.
The other laughed.
“I should think that he would have impudence for anything, major. And in truth, I rather hope that they won’t lay hands upon him—a fellow who devised and carried out such a scheme as he did deserves his liberty. Of course, his overpowering the warder was nothing; but that he should have had the impudence to go down into the major’s quarters, appropriate his clothes, leave his own uniform behind him; and then, taking advantage of the arrival of another regiment, march calmly out through them all, pass the sentries—who took him for one of the newly-arrived officers in charge of the waggons—was really splendid!
“How it was that they did not overtake him the next morning, I cannot make out. He had no sword with him, and no horse; and the spectacle of a field officer on foot, without even a sword, should have attracted the attention of the very first person who met him. He had not been gone two hours when troops started in pursuit; for when the major, whose door he had locked, had it burst open and found that his uniform was gone, he suspected something was wrong, and had all the sergeants in charge of prisoners mustered.
“One was missing, the man who had charge of this young Scotchman. As he could not be found, the fellow’s cell was broken open, and there was the warder, bound and gagged. The bird had flown, and parties of horse were sent off by all the roads leading to Bohemia and Silesia, but no signs of the man have, as far as we have heard, yet been discovered.
“The only thing that I can imagine is that, when he heard the cavalry in pursuit, he left the road and hid up somewhere; and that afterwards he tried to make his way by unfrequented paths, and was starved in the snow. In that case his body is not likely to be found until the spring.”
“I cannot help thinking that a fellow who could plan and carry out that escape would hardly be likely to lose his life in a snowdrift. You see, it was not a sudden idea. On no other evening would he have found the gate open after sunset, nor would he have been certain to have found the major absent from his quarters. He must have been waiting patiently for his opportunity and, as soon as he heard that another battalion was coming into the garrison, he must have resolved to act. More than that, he must have calculated that instead of arriving at four o’clock, as they were timed to do, they would be detained and not get in until after dark.
“They are clear-headed fellows, these Scotchmen; whether they are in our army or Frederick’s. What makes the affair more wonderful is that this was quite a young fellow, and probably understood no German; but I think that he would have acted more wisely, had he waited until the spring.”
“I don’t know,” the other said. “When once the troops are all in movement north, he certainly could not have escaped in a military uniform without being questioned; and it scarcely seems possible that he could have procured any other. He must be in more of a hurry to fight again than I am.”
“There can hardly be much serious fighting,” the other said. “With us, Russia, and France, and with the 50,000 Swedes who have been bought by France, we shall have 500,000 men under arms; while we know that 200,000 is the utmost Frederick can muster, and these will have to be scattered in every direction round his frontier.”
“I am sorry that France has joined in,” the other said. “It is unnatural enough that we and Russia should combine to crush Prussia, but when it comes to our old enemies the French helping us against a German power, I say frankly I don’t like it. Besides, though we may get Silesia back again, that will be a small advantage in comparison to the disadvantage of France getting a firm foothold on this side of the Rhine. Even if her share of the partition doesn’t extend beyond the river, this will be her frontier nearly down to the sea; and she will have the power of pouring her troops into Germany, whenever she chooses.”
Fergus had now finished his meal, and without caring to listen longer he betook himself to bed. To avoid all appearance of haste, he did not start so early the next morning, but mounted at ten and rode to the junction of the Eger with the Elbe. It was too late to cross the river that night, and he therefore put up at a village on the bank, and crossed in a ferry boat on the following morning to Leitmeritz, a town of considerable size.
He was now within a day’s ride of the defile through which the Elbe finds its way from Bohemia into Saxony. His papers were inspected, as usual, by the officer in command of a troop of cavalry there.
“You will have a rough time of it, if you push on,” he said. “There is no traffic through the passes now, so the snow will lie as it fell, and at any moment it may come down again. As far as the mouth of the pass you will find it easy enough, for we send half a troop as far as that every day; but beyond that I should say it
would be all but, if not quite, impassable. I advise you to stay here quietly, until you hear of someone having crossed; or at any rate, if you do go on, you must take three or four peasants as guides, and to help you through difficult places.”
“Would it not be possible, captain,” Fergus asked, “to hire a boat?”
“I did not think of that. Yes, there are flat boats that at ordinary times go down to Dresden, with the rafts of timber; but whether you would find anyone willing, now, to make such a journey is more than I can say.”
“I am very anxious to be back to my business,” Fergus said; “and as I should have to pay handsomely for guides to take me over, and even then might lose my life, it would be better for me to pay higher and get through at once.”
On going down to the water side he saw several boats hauled up, and it was not long before some boatmen, seeing a stranger examining their craft, came down to him.
“I want to go down to Dresden,” he said.
“’Tis a bad time of the year,” one of the men replied.
“It is a bad time of the year, as far as cold is concerned; but it is a good time of the year for going down the river,” he said; “for now that the frost has set in the river is low and the current gentle, whereas in the spring, when the snow is melting, it must be a raging torrent in some of the narrow defiles.”
This evidence that the stranger, whoever he was, was no fool, silenced the boatmen for a minute.
“Now,” Fergus went on, “what is the lowest price that one of you will take me and my horse down to Dresden for? I am disposed to pay a fair price and not more, and if you attempt to charge an exorbitant one, I shall take guides and follow the road.”
“You would never get through,” one of the men said.
“Well, at any rate I would try; and if I could not succeed by the road by the river, I would cross by some other pass. I have no doubt, whatever, I could get through by Graber and Zittau.”
The stranger’s acquaintance with the country again silenced the men. They talked for a while apart, and then one said:
“We will take you for twenty rix dollars.”
“Do you suppose that I am the emperor, in disguise?” Fergus said indignantly. “’Tis but three days’ journey, at most, and perhaps six for coming back against the stream.”
“We shall need four men, master, and there is the food by the way.”
After much bargaining the price was settled at fifteen rix dollars, both parties being satisfied with the bargain; the men because it was more than twice the sum for which they would have been glad to do it, at ordinary times; Fergus because he had still forty rix dollars in his pocket, and had only bargained as he did in order not to appear too anxious on the subject. The price was to include the erection, at one end of the boat, of a snug cover of rushes for his use.
He found, on going down to the shore three hours later, that the boatmen were engaged in covering in the whole of the craft, with the exception of a few feet at each end, with a roof of rushes. The boat itself was some thirty-five feet in length and ten wide, with straight sides and a general resemblance to a canal barge, save that the beam was greater in comparison to the length. The roof was high, and sloped sharply. A tall man could walk along in the centre, while at the sides there was but three feet of height.
Hay and straw were extremely scarce, the whole supply of the country having been stripped by the foraging parties; but bundles of reeds had been thickly littered down, especially near the stern.
Shortly after his return, the landlord of the inn told him that, if he did not want to take the horse with him, he would himself gladly buy it.
“I have frequently to send to Prague for things for the inn; and besides, I have to get provisions for people in the town. I sold my best horse last autumn, to an officer whose charger had been killed. Now that sledging has begun, I want one which can travel fast and do the journey there in a day; so if you don’t want to take it, and will accept a reasonable price, I will buy it.”
The offer was a welcome one. With two splendid horses at his command—for he knew that good care would have been taken of the one left in camp—a third would only have been in the way; and this, although a good and useful beast, was scarce good-looking enough for an officer on the marshal’s staff. Therefore, after the usual amount of bargaining, he parted with it for a fair price.
The next morning early he went on board, the servant of the inn following with a great hamper of wine and provisions. He was glad to see that a bright fire burned on an earthen hearth in the middle of the boat; the smoke finding its way out, partly through a hole cut in the thatch above it, partly by the opening at the fore end of the boat. He brought with him his horse cloth as well as his other belongings. The men, who were clearly in a hurry to be away, pushed the boat off from the shore as soon as he had taken his place.
“We want to be back as soon as we can,” the owner of the boat said, “for it will not be long before the ice begins to form, and we don’t want to be frozen in.”
“It does not feel to me quite so cold this morning,” Fergus remarked.
“No, sir; we are going to have more snow. That won’t matter to us, and if it snows for the next week, all the better. It is not often that the river closes altogether until after Christmas. In the mountains the river seldom freezes at all. There is too much current, and besides, in shelter of the hills the cold is not so great.”
Two oars were got out, for the purpose of steering rather than of hastening the progress of the boat; and once well out in the current, she was allowed to drift quietly with the stream. Fergus spread his horse cloth on the rushes by the fire, and found no need for his sheepskin coat; the cloak, loosely thrown over his shoulders and the collar turned up, to keep off the draughts that blew in under the bottom of the thatch, being sufficient to make him thoroughly comfortable.
There was nothing to see outside, the shore being low and flat. He had brought a large supply of meat with him, and handed over a portion of this to the man who acted as the cook of the crew, and told him to make broth for them all. This was a welcome gift to the crew, who but seldom touched meat; and with the addition of barley, coarse flour, and herbs that they had brought for their own use, an excellent stew was provided. The pot was kept going through the journey, fresh meat and other ingredients being added, from time to time. In addition to this, slices of meat were grilled over the fire, and eaten with the bread they had brought. The gift of a bottle of wine between the crew, each day; and of a small ration of spirits, the last thing in the evening, added greatly to the satisfaction of the men.
By nightfall they arrived at the entrance of the defile. The snow was falling heavily, and they tied up against the bank. Fergus chatted with the men, and listened to their stories of the river, for some hours.
All of them had, at various times, gone on timber rafts. They bewailed the war, which would do them much harm. It would not altogether interrupt trade, for timber would be required, as usual, in Saxony and Hanover. As a rule, neither of the contending armies interfered with the river traffic; though communications by land were greatly interrupted, owing to the peasants’ carts being impressed for military service. This, and the anxiety of everyone for the safety of his home and belongings, brought the trade between the countries to a standstill.
On the river, however, the difficulty consisted, not in any interference by the authorities, but from so large a number of the able-bodied men being called out for service that the amount of timber cut and brought down was greatly diminished, while the needs of the army brought the trade in cattle and other produce to an entire cessation.
The dangers of the river were not great; although in spring, when the snow melted and the river was swollen, navigation was rendered, especially in the narrow reaches of the defile, difficult and dangerous; for the force of the stream was so great that it was well-nigh impossible to direct the course of the rafts, and indeed the poles used for that purpose were often found too short to
reach the bottom.
The men were up long before daylight; but it was two hours later before Fergus roused himself and, shaking off the fine snow that had drifted in and lay thickly on his coat, went out to have a look at things. One of the men was already preparing breakfast. Two of the others stood at the bow with long poles, with which they punted the boat along. The captain, also provided with a pole, stood in the stern.
The snow had ceased, but the air felt sharp and cold as it came down from the hills, which were all thickly covered.
“So there is an end of the snow, for the present, captain,” he said, as he pushed aside the curtain of reeds that closed the stern of the covered portion, and joined him.
“Yes. I am not altogether sorry, for we can see where we are going. We shall keep on, now, until we are through the defile.”
“But there is no moon, captain.”
“No, but we can tell pretty well, by the depth of water, where we are; and can manage to keep in the middle of the current. There are no obstructions there to affect us, though in some places there are plenty of ugly rocks near the shore. However, if we have luck we shall be through before midnight, and shall pass all the worst points before sunset.”
The day passed, indeed, without adventure of any kind. The journey was highly interesting to Fergus, for the scenery was very picturesque. Sometimes the hills narrowed in, and the stream, straitened in its course, hastened its speed; at others the hills receded, and were covered far up with forests; above which bleak mountain tops, with their mantle of snow, rose high in the air. The captain pointed out the spot where the Saxons had crossed; and where, pent in and surrounded with batteries commanding every means of exit, they were forced to surrender.
“It is smooth work now,” he said, as they were going through one of the narrows, “for the river is low and the current gentle; but in floods there are waves, here, that would swamp the boat did she keep out in the middle, as we are doing; and it would be impossible to pole her against it, even close to the shore. You see, the ice is forming already near the banks.”