The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “The first thing is to find the marshal,” Fergus said, as he rode out of Hochkirch. “He must be somewhere to the right.”

  He galloped on until a flash of fire burst out, a few yards in front. His horse fell dead under him and, before he could extricate himself from it, he was surrounded by Austrians. An officer shouted to him to surrender and, seeing the hopelessness of resistance, he at once did so.

  He looked round and, to his satisfaction, saw nothing of Karl. He was placed in the midst of the Austrian regiment, under the charge of a sergeant, and told that he would be shot if he tried to escape.

  Frederick, with more battalions that had come up, pushed on; thrusting the Austrians back until he had left Hochkirch on his left. But by this time it was past eight o’clock, the fog was dispersing, and he saw a great body of Austrians on the heights to his right, from Waditz to Meschduitz, as well as on the whole line of heights on the left. His only line of retreat, therefore, was along at the foot of the Dressau heights.

  These he ordered to be seized, at once. This was done before the Austrians could reach the spot, they being hindered by furious charges by Ziethen, from the open ground between Kumschutz and Canitz; and Frederick rearranged his front of battle, and waited for Retzow to come up with the left wing.

  The Austrians tried several attacks, but with little success. They too had been hindered and confused by the mist, and the force that had been engaged in and round Hochkirch had suffered terribly; and they pushed forward but feebly, now that the Prussian guns on the heights were able to open fire upon them.

  Retzow was long in coming, for he too had been attacked by twenty thousand men, who had been told off by Daun for the purpose. The attack, however, was badly managed and feeble; but it delayed Retzow from making a start, when Frederick’s urgent messages reached him. During this anxious delay the Austrians captured Frederick’s main battery of thirty guns, north of Rodewitz; and were beginning to press forward, when Retzow came onto the ground and took up a position at Belgern, covering Frederick’s left flank. Had he been an hour sooner, he might have saved the heavy battery which lay beyond the range of the guns on the Dressau heights, and which Frederick could not have supported without bringing on a general battle.

  Then, in a steady and leisurely manner, the king drew off his forces and took up a new position from Krewitz to Puswietz, carrying off the whole of his baggage; Retzow and the troops on the Dressau heights covering the movement, until all had passed; Daun and his great army standing on their circle of hills, watching, but not interfering with the movement.

  Frederick’s rashness had cost him dear. He had lost eight thousand men; five thousand three hundred and eighty-one of them, and a hundred and nineteen officers, killed or prisoners; the rest wounded. He had also lost a hundred and one guns, and most of his tents.

  Of the Austrians, three hundred and twenty-five officers and five thousand six hundred and fourteen rank and file were killed or wounded, and a thousand prisoners lost. Twenty thousand of their men deserted, during their passage through the dark and intricate woods.

  Fergus remained with the regiment that had captured him until the battle ceased; after which he was taken, under a guard, to the spot where the Prussian prisoners were gathered. Of these there were fifty-eight officers, the greater part of whom were more or less severely wounded. Two of the officers belonged to the Kannaker battalion, and from them Fergus asked for news of Marshal Keith.

  “We fear he is killed,” one said. “He led us into the battery, and he was with us after we were driven out again; but after that neither of us saw him. Everything was in confusion. We could not see twenty yards, any way. We know that the battalion had suffered terribly. Just before we were captured, being with a score of men cut off from the rest by a rush of Austrians, a rumour spread that the marshal had been killed; but more than this we cannot tell.”

  Two hours later an Austrian officer rode up, with orders that the prisoners were to be marched some distance farther to the rear. Fergus went up to him and said:

  “Can you tell me, sir, if Marshal Keith is among the killed? I am one of his aides-de-camp and, moreover, a cousin of his.”

  “Yes,” the officer said, “he has fallen. His body was recognized by General Lacy, who commands here. I am on his staff. The general was greatly affected, for he and the marshal were at one time comrades in arms. The marshal was shot through the heart, and had previously received two other wounds. He was a most gallant soldier, and one highly esteemed by us. He will be buried with all military honours at Hochkirch, where he has been carried.”

  Fergus was deeply moved. Keith had been so uniformly kind that he had come to feel for him almost as a father. He could not speak for a minute, and then said:

  “Would you ask General Lacy, sir, to allow me to attend his funeral, both as one of the marshal’s staff and as a relation, who loved him very dearly? My name is Major Drummond.”

  “I will certainly ask him, sir, and have no doubt that he will grant the request.”

  He thereupon gave orders that a young officer should remain with Fergus, until an answer was received. He then rode off, and in a few minutes the rest of the prisoners were marched away. In half an hour the officer returned.

  “General Lacy will be glad if you will accompany me to his quarters. He gladly accedes to your request.”

  Lacy occupied one of the houses at Hochkirch which had been spared by the flames. The aide-de-camp conducted Fergus to an empty room.

  “The general is away at present,” he said, “but will see you, as soon as he returns.”

  When alone, Fergus burst into tears. It was indeed a heavy loss to him. Even before he came out, he had come to regard Keith with deep respect and admiration. He had heard so much of him, from his mother, that it seemed to him that their relationship was far closer than it really was, and that Keith stood in the position of an uncle rather than of his mother’s cousin. Since he had been in Germany he had been constantly with him, save when he was away with the king; and the genial kindness, the absence of all formality, and the affectionate interest he had shown in him had been almost of a fatherly nature. It was but a poor consolation to know that it was the death Keith would, of all others, have chosen; and that, had he survived the campaign, he would probably have been obliged to retire from active service; or to take some quiet command, where his inactivity would speedily have chafed him beyond bearing, after so active and stirring a life.

  Two hours later the officer entered the room, and said that General Lacy had returned, and would see him. The general was alone when he was shown into his room, and his face evinced a momentary surprise when his eyes fell on Fergus. Promotion was not very rapid in the Prussian army, and he had expected to see a man of between thirty and forty. The sight of this young officer, with the rank and insignia of major, and wearing on his breast the Prussian order, surprised him.

  “I am sorry indeed for your loss, Major Drummond,” he said in English. “Sorry for my own, too; though it may well be that, in any case, Keith and I should never have met again. But we were comrades once and, like everyone else, I loved him. What relation was he to you?”

  “He was my mother’s first cousin, general; but they were always dear friends, and have for years written regularly to each other; and it was settled that I should come out to him, as soon as I was old enough. ’Tis upwards of two years since I did so, and he has been more like a father than a cousin to me, during that time.”

  “You have gone up the tree fast,” General Lacy said.

  “Very fast, sir; but I owe it to good fortune, and not to his influence. I was, in each case, promoted by the king himself.”

  “A good judge of men, and not accustomed to give promotion easily. Will you tell me how it happened?”

  “There is not much to tell, sir. On the first occasion, I freed Count Eulenfurst of some rascals who were maltreating him and his family.”

  “I remember the circumstance,” Lacy said warmly. “I
heard it from a Saxon officer, who joined us at the end of the first campaign, after the Saxon army was disbanded and the officers were allowed to go free. He was at Dresden for a time, and heard the story. It was a gallant business. I think you killed six of them. And what was the next occasion?”

  “The next followed very quickly, general; and was given for carrying an order to the Prussian horse, which enabled them to get back to our lines before the Austrian cavalry fell upon them.”

  “I was there,” Lacy said. “So you were the officer who charged through a squadron of our cavalry, accompanied by a single orderly! You certainly won your promotion fairly there. And where did you get your last step?”

  “At Zorndorf where, in the melee, when the Russians broke our ranks, I was fortunate enough to intercept three Russian dragoons who were making for the king, who was hemmed in among the infantry he was trying to rally.”

  “A good reason, again, for promotion. Well, if you go on, you are likely to rise as high as your cousin. But it is a poor life. As I looked down upon Keith’s face today, I thought how empty is any honour that adventurers like ourselves can gain. I myself have risen too; but what does it bring? Responsibility, toil, the consciousness that a solitary mistake may bring you into disgrace; and that, in any case, the end may be like this: death on a battlefield, fighting in a quarrel in which you have no concern, and of which you may disapprove; a grave soon forgotten; a name scarce known to one’s countrymen. It is not worth it.”

  The general spoke in a tone of deep feeling.

  “I have made up my mind not to continue in the service, after the war is over,” Fergus said, after a short pause; “although the king has personally been very kind to me and, when the marshal remained in Bohemia, he took me on his own staff.”

  “That is right, and as you are young, a few years’ further service will do you no harm. It will, indeed, do you good; that is, if you pass through it unharmed. A man who has fought under Frederick, and gained no small honour in a service where brave men are common, will be respected when he returns to his home, no matter how small his patrimony may be; and you will be, in all respects, an abler man for these few years of fierce struggle and adventure.

  “And now, Major Drummond, I must say goodbye for the present, as I have to ride over to the marshal, and may not return until late this evening. A meal will be served to you shortly, in your room; and if your night has been as short as mine has, you will be ready to turn in early. The funeral will take place tomorrow morning.”

  The next morning, Lacy and Fergus Drummond walked side by side, as chief mourners, after the gun carriage on which the remains of Marshal Keith were carried to Hochkirch church. There was a large military cortege, martial music, and infantry with reversed arms. The many wounded had been carried from the church, and some attempt made to clear away the signs of the strife that had, twenty-four hours before, raged around it. There Keith was buried. Twelve cannon three times pealed out a parting salute. Three times the muskets of the regiment of Colleredo fired their volleys.

  Four months later, by the king’s orders, the body was conveyed to Berlin, and buried in the garrison church with full military pomp and honour. Twenty years afterwards, when Frederick erected four statues to the most deserving of his generals, Keith had his place with Schwerin, Winterfeld, and Seidlitz.

  “And now,” Lacy said, when they returned from the funeral to his quarters, “I must send you on after the others. I am sorry to do so, but I have no choice. Still, I will write to friends at Vienna, and get them to have you included in the first batch of exchanges.”

  An officer was told off to accompany Fergus, and a horse was found for him. On the second evening after starting he rejoined the convoy of prisoners; where a message, delivered from General Lacy to the officer in charge, caused many small indulgences to be granted to him on the way south.

  Day after day the convoy pursued its way, by short marches, for several of the officers were too severely wounded to travel far. Several of these were left at Prague. Here the greater portion of the others were taken on by the southern road through Budweis, the rest turning southeast towards Moravia.

  On the evening before they separated, the commander of the convoy said to Fergus:

  “Have you any wish to choose as to which of the fortresses you would be sent to? I can put your name down with either party. Some will go to Iglau in Moravia, the rest to the forts round Linz.”

  “I think I would rather go to Linz, colonel, as you are good enough to give me the choice.”

  Accordingly, the next morning Fergus, with twenty officers, continued his way south. The majority proceeded to Iglau, to be distributed among the various fortresses of Moravia.

  Fergus was much pleased that he had not been sent with that party, for had he by chance been taken to his former place of imprisonment, he would certainly have been recognized, and the strictest precautions taken against his repeating the attempt. On their arrival at Linz, the prisoners were formally handed over to the charge of the governor, and distributed among the various outlying forts round the city. Ten others were told off to the same prison as Fergus.

  The fort was the one nearest to the river, on the west side of the city; and stood but a hundred yards from the bank, its guns being intended to prevent any passage of the Danube, as well as to guard the city against a land attack from that side. It was a strong place but, as it was situated in a flat country, it presented no natural obstacle to an escape. It was surrounded by a broad moat, fed by a cut from the river. On the other side of the moat were two small redoubts, facing west. The fort contained ample barracks for the garrison of three hundred men who occupied it, with bomb proofs in which they could take refuge, in the event of a siege. Beyond the moat, a glacis sloped down to another ditch.

  The cannon were placed in casemates. Some of them had been withdrawn, the casemates fitted with massive shutters, and converted into prisons for the use of officers. Two captains were lodged in the same casemate with Fergus. No light came from without, but there was a low semicircular window over the door. This was very strongly barred, but admitted sufficient light, in the daytime.

  “Not such bad quarters,” Fergus said, as he looked round. “When the cold weather comes, we shall only have to stuff straw through those bars, leaving one square open for light, and manage to hang a thick curtain across it at night. I suppose they will give us a brazier of charcoal, when it gets a little colder; though indeed, it is cold enough now.”

  “At any rate, we shall have a rest, major; and that will be a treat, after our long marches during the last campaign. I should think that we can sleep the best part of the winter away.”

  “They fasten the shutters pretty securely,” Fergus went on. “They are three inches of solid oak, and you see these bars are all riveted at each end. I suppose they think that they would have plenty of time to cut the rivet heads off, before any army could approach.”

  In a short time the officer in command of the force came round. He was very civil and courteous, and said that he had already ordered a stove to be sent in, and that they should have some straw laid over the floor.

  “You will be permitted to take exercise, when you like, upon the rampart overhead,” he said. “Any reasonable request you make shall be attended to. I regret that the misfortune of war should have placed you in my keeping; for we Austrians can appreciate bravery, and we cannot but admit that no braver men are to be found than those in the King of Prussia’s army.

  “As to your rations, they must be plain. A certain sum is allowed by government for the cost of each prisoner. I make it go as far as I can, but I often wish that the sum were larger. I may say that you are permitted to order any additions to your food from without, upon payment; but I need hardly add that the orders must pass through the hands of the officer in charge of you, and that everything brought in is rigidly inspected.”

  “Have there been any exchanges of prisoners, of late?” one of Fergus’s companions asked.
/>
  “No. It is a compliment to you, gentlemen, for our government apparently places a higher value on you than on us, and is very chary of swelling Frederick’s armies by the release of prisoners. Somehow your king seems to make double use of his soldiers. He fights a battle here, then rushes away to meet another enemy, two or three hundred miles off; while when we get an advantage, we seem so satisfied with ourselves that we sit still until we have let its advantages slip from our hands.”

  “May I ask if, by the last news, Marshal Daun is still near Hochkirch?”

  “He was so, as far as the yesterday’s courier brought news. At first we thought that he had won a tremendous victory, and had eaten up Frederick’s army; but the later news is that the king marched safely away, and so far from being demolished he is now perfectly master of his movements; and ready, no doubt, for another tussle, if we should advance. However, I should imagine that the snow will soon put a stop to active operations.”

  Then, bowing courteously, he left them, to pay a visit to the prisoners in the next casemate.

  CHAPTER 14

  Breaking Prison

  “He seems to be a pleasant fellow,” Fergus said, “and disposed to do his best to make us comfortable; so if we don’t see any chance of getting away, we shall be able to get through the winter very fairly.”

  “You don’t think there is any chance of escape, surely, major?”

  “Pray, drop the major, Captain Stauffen, and let us call each other by our names, while we are here. The discipline of the Prussian army is admirable, and must, as a rule, be most stringently maintained by all sorts of forms and observances; but here by our three selves, confined in this casemate for no one can say how long, it is ridiculous that we should be always stiff and ceremonious. You are both some years older than I am. I have had the good fortune to have better opportunities than you have had, and have been promoted accordingly; but while here, let us try and forget all about that, and make things as pleasant all round as possible.”