Hazard in Circassia

by V. A. Stuart

  She bowed her head. “Yes, in many of them. Since my father came to Circassia he has kept me with him all the time.”

  “But . . . he takes you with him on these guerilla operations?” Phillip could still scarcely believe it. “Why does he not leave you where you would be safe, mademoiselle?”

  Selina looked up. In the dim light, he could not see much of her face, could not read the expression on it but her voice was harsh with pain as she said, “Safe, Commander Hazard! In an unguarded village, with only women and children and a few old men . . . do you have any idea what the Cossacks do, when they occupy such a village?”

  “No, I . . . I don’t. You—”

  It was as if she had not heard him. “They are given leave to pillage and plunder, to commit rape and murder, and, when they have done, they destroy the evidence of what they have done by setting fire to every building that may still be standing. My mother died in Bayazid, not quite two years ago, in . . . in such circumstances. My father was with the army of General Guyon, which entered the town after Bubatoff’s troops had left it, on their way to Erzeroum, where I was at school until, thanks be to God, he took me away. I did not go into the town where my mother died, for which also I am thankful—I was at Kars, the main Turkish camp, where I was what you are pleased to call safe. But my father took me from there as soon as he could and since then he has not permitted me to leave his side.”

  “I see,” Phillip responded lamely.

  “Do you?” she asked, her tone now very gentle. “I think perhaps you may see—and understand—if you stay with us for a little while, Commander Hazard. This is a cruel and bitter war and the Turks, when they capture a Christian town or village, behave no better, I assure you, than the Russians. They . . .” the man who was riding with her father called out in sudden alarm and Selina jerked her horse round instantly and went to him. Phillip heard their voices but, unable to understand what they were saying, reined in his own animal and waited anxiously. It was not so cold now; they must have come down quite a considerable distance, he realized although not, it seemed, quite far enough, for the daylight was all but gone. From where he sat on his weary horse, he could just make out the group which had gathered about the Colonel— Cochrane among them—but little else, and he was not surprised when Cochrane came to tell him that Selina had decided to call a halt.

  “The poor old Colonel is in a bad way, sir,” his second-incommand added. “It’s obvious that he can’t go on. And by the way, sir, the girl is his daughter—I heard her call him ‘Papa.’”

  “Yes,” Phillip answered shortly. “So did I. Where are we going to doss down for the night, do you know?”

  “The girl—Selina—said something about a cave. She’s gone to look for it now, I believe. I must confess, sir, I shan’t be sorry to get some sleep.”

  “How are you feeling, Mr Cochrane?” Cochrane’s face was a white blur in the darkness and Phillip eyed him with concern, hearing the exhaustion of his voice.

  “A lot better than I was, sir,” Cochrane admitted. “It’s the height that affects me—I find I can’t get my breath.”

  “How about Thompson and Erikson?”

  “Done up sir, both of them. They’ll be glad of a few hours’ sleep, too, I fancy.”

  “Commander Hazard . . .” Selina was beside them, gliding up like a shadow. “I have found a shelter where we may rest for the night. Lead your horses, if you please, and follow me . . . but be careful, it is a steep descent.”

  A slow, cautious walk, leading their horses, brought them to a narrow cleft in the rocks—hardly to be termed a cave but it stretched so far back and at its extremity, afforded such good cover that Selina decided that a small fire might safely be lighted. While the others searched for brushwood, Phillip helped to carry her father inside and the old man began to recover a little when the fire burned up and its welcome heat dispelled the damp chill of their rocky shelter. Selina, solicitous as always, knelt at his side, giving him sips from his flask and then, having carefully checked the bandage on his injured arm, piled two sheepskin cloaks on to his recumbent body and begged him to try to sleep.

  To Phillip she said, as the Colonel closed his eyes, “He is not really an old man, you know, but he has been severely wounded so many times that now his strength is going, although he will not admit to it.”

  “I am sorry to have put so great a strain on him, mademoiselle,” Phillip apologized. “But it was his decision to accompany us—I give you my word, I did not ask him to.”

  She smiled. “I know. As my father himself said—do not blame yourself. He will recover, when he has slept and eaten.” She gestured to where two of their Circassian escort were busily engaged with a spit of meat over the fire. “Our meal, such as it is, will not take long to prepare. In the meantime, I have sent two of our men to Serfir Pasha’s camp, to inform him that you are here. If he wishes to speak with you tonight, I will take you to him . . . but we shall have to make our way on foot. In darkness, it is too dangerous to go on horseback and, in any case, the horses are worn out.”

  “As you must also be, surely, mademoiselle?” Phillip suggested, but she shook her head, her dark hair, released from the confines of her cap, falling in a shining cascade about her shoulders. In the warm glow from the firelight, her beauty caused him to catch his breath in wonder. She eyed him gravely and then answered his question. “I am used to long marches in the mountains. But you are not, or your sailors either . . . why do you not all snatch some sleep, close to the fire? I will waken you when the food is prepared.”

  Phillip took her advice gratefully. It seemed, however, that he had barely closed his eyes when she shook him back to wakefulness and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to see Dafir standing beside her, grinning sheepishly down at him.

  “The wanderer has returned,” Selina said in English, her tone disapproving. “It appears that he has taken the news of your coming to Serfir Pasha already, Commander Hazard, and the Pasha is anxious to speak with you as soon as possible. He asks also that you will bring your rifles and the bullets for them, so that they may be used for the ambush . . . Dafir has been boasting of their superiority over our weapons, I imagine.” She studied his face searchingly. “Do you feel able to continue the journey? You have not slept for long and—”

  Phillip forced himself to get to his feet. “I’m ready to start whenever you wish, mademoiselle.” He should, he knew, be feeling elated at the prospect of a swift and successful end to his mission but instead he was conscious of a keen sense of regret. By this time tomorrow, he thought, he might be on his way back to Ghelenjik, and Selina . . . the girl, as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud, laid a hand gently on his arm.

  “We will eat first,” she told him. “Dafir has brought men to carry the rifles and I will go with you, to interpret what you wish to say to the Pasha. My father must rest here until morning.”

  They ate their frugal meal almost in silence. The Colonel, who had evidently eaten before them, had dropped into a deep sleep and Selina was careful not to rouse him.

  “Leave your sailors here with him,” she advised. “It is not very far to Serfir Pasha’s camp—we can return, when you have spoken with him.”

  Cochrane glanced questioningly at Phillip. “I’m game to come with you, sir,” he offered. “If you want me.”

  “No,” Phillip decided. “Stay where you are, Mr Cochrane, and do what you can for Colonel Gorak. I’ll take Erikson to demonstrate the rifles . . . if you’re fit, Erikson, my lad?”

  The Norwegian was instantly alert. “I’m fit, sir. And willing . . . so long as we’re not going on horseback! I’m better on my feet, sir, believe me.”

  They set off, ten minutes later, with Dafir in the lead. A short climb, with an icy wind in their faces, brought them to the edge of a steep, tree-grown ravine, along the sheltered side of which Dafir guided them with uncanny skill, flitting from one clump of trees to the next like a ghost and occasionally pausing to listen. The moon, which h
ad risen while they were in the cave, came from behind a cloud after they had been walking for about twenty or thirty minutes, to bathe the surrounding countryside in pale, silvery light and make the going a great deal easier. Phillip had been feeling stiff when they started off but his short sleep and the meal he had eaten had put fresh life into him and he experienced no difficulty in keeping pace with the others. Gaining in confidence, he opened his mouth to speak to Selina, who was just in front of him, when she turned, a finger to her lips, and then motioned him to squat down beside her. The rest of the party did the same and Selina pointed, her mouth silently forming the single word: “Cossacks!”

  Phillip peered down in the direction she had indicated, seeing nothing save a dark bank of shadow below the tree-line until, suddenly, the shadow moved, resolving itself into several separate shadows and he heard the metallic chink of a steel bit. A horse whinnied and a voice growled out what sounded like an order, in a language he did not understand. The whinnying ceased, to be succeeded by the soft but unmistakable thud of hooves, which gradually became fainter and finally faded altogether. Dafir rose and continued on his way and Selina whispered, her mouth close to Phillip’s ear, “They have gone. Our men have orders to let them pass through our lines unmolested, as I told you. They watch but do not challenge them.” She touched his arm. “Come—it is not far now.”

  Fifty yards along the track, a man stepped out to bar their path, flintlock rifle at the ready. Dafir exchanged whispers with him and he stood aside, waving them on and, as they filed past him, Phillip saw that two other riflemen were positioned on either side of the first, half-hidden among the trees. They encountered two other such outposts, where the same procedure was followed, emerging eventually into a clearing, denuded of trees but scattered with huge boulders ranged in apparently haphazard fashion, which constituted so perfect a defensive position that it might have been man-made.

  “We are here,” Selina told him and smiled, as Phillip looked about him blankly, unable to see any sign of the men and horses he had expected to find at the Circassian headquarters. Again, as if she had read his thoughts, she pointed to a tall pile of boulders to the left of the clearing, behind which the rock-wall rose, seemingly unbroken, to a height of sixty or seventy feet. “These rocks hide a network of caves and caverns,” she explained, urging him towards the heaped boulders. “They are many hundreds of years old and were the hiding place and refuge of wolf packs and mountain bears. Now we use them for the same purpose and the wild animals must seek shelter elsewhere. There are many such caves all over the mountains which the Russians never search, because they believe them fit only for animals, but our people have worked cleverly to make them safe and habitable, as you will see. It was an idea of Serfir’s, which he learnt from Schamyl.” A man in the shapeless garb of a goatherd was standing with his back to an opening in the rock; Dafir spoke to him and he rolled one of the carefully balanced boulders effortlessly to one side, to reveal an aperture large enough to admit a horse and rider. It closed behind them, and Dafir led them along a dank, narrow passageway, the walls of which were encrusted with moss and lichen. It appeared to come to a dead end, but a second sentry put his shoulder to the rock wall and this, too, rolled back to admit them to a vast cavern, capable of accommodating sixty or seventy men in comfort and three times that number, if they were packed in tightly. The interior was warm and dry, illuminated by rushlights at intervals along the walls and, looking about him in amazement, Phillip saw that it was a hive of activity, as well organized as any battle headquarters he had ever entered. A few men slept, rolled in their cloaks, but the others were engaged in cleaning and priming rifles, checking and packing ammunition, and filling saddle-bags and pouches, and there was a busy to-ing and fro-ing at the far end of the cavern, where upwards of a score of horses were tied up.

  “That is the Pasha,” Selina said, indicating a small, dark-faced man of indeterminate age seated cross-legged in the centre of a group of about half a dozen others, to whom he was talking quietly. At first sight he was unimpressive but when Dafir drew his attention to the arrival of the visitors and he rose to receive them, he had a natural dignity and ease of manner which set him apart from his fellows and their instant obedience to any command he gave them stamped him a leader. In marked contrast to the Turkish officers of his rank, Phillip noticed that he made no attempt to stand on ceremony, and his dress was similar to that of his men, save that he wore a Cossack cherkerska with leather cartridge-holders across the chest, in place of the sheepskin or goats’ hair mantles which most of them draped about their persons. His weapons, too, were of the highest quality, the scimitar and the pistols at his waist beautifully inlaid with gold and silver and, in addition to these, he carried a long, curved dagger, with a jewelled hilt which was obviously worth a small fortune.

  He listened, without comment, to Phillip’s message, which Selina translated for him. Then, after a moment’s thoughtful consideration, he proceeded to fire a succession of rapid questions concerning Admiral Lyons’s plans for a second expedition to Kertch, his intentions when an Allied naval squadron should succeed in gaining entry to the Sea of Azoff and precisely how much aid Mustapha Pasha was prepared to offer the Circassian tribes. Phillip answered these questions to the best of his ability, Serfir’s swift and thorough grasp of the scope of the Admiral’s proposals, seen in relation to the overall situation, evoking his admiration. Here was no ordinary chieftain of a brigand tribe, he thought, elated, but an experienced military commander, with courage and a shrewd brain, who could be relied upon to carry out whatever promises he might make— one, indeed, who would not give his word until he had satisfied himself that he would be able to keep it. He continued to question the proposed Turkish aid, his tone openly sceptical, and Selina translated his doubts on this score adding, in explanation, that Turkish help had, in the past, frequently fallen short of Circassian expectations.

  “Serfir Pasha wonders if you are aware,” the girl went on, “that we have repeatedly requested Zarif Mustapha Pasha to visit us and judge our needs at first hand, but our requests have been ignored. He asks if you can guarantee that Mustapha Pasha will come in person to Ghelenjik?”

  “Tell him my Admiral is confident that he will come,” Phillip answered. “Arrangements have been made for his transport by Turkish steamer from Batoum, and two of our British ships-ofwar—in addition to my own—will also be at Ghelenjik on or before the eighteenth of this month. If his Excellency will return there with me, in order to confer with Mustapha Pasha and the other Circassian chiefs, I am sure that he will be able to obtain satisfactory guarantees of Turkish co-operation.”

  Selina translated his reply and Phillip saw the Pasha’s dark face relax a little. He asked several more cautious questions, still reluctant to commit himself, and then Selina said, “Serfir Pasha wishes me to tell you, Commander Hazard, that he would gladly co-operate with your Admiral and the English Navy. He estimates that a force of between twenty and thirty thousand Circassians could be raised for the purpose of attacking the Russian held posts at Anapa, Soujak, and in the Kouban. They could, he believes, be collected within three weeks, perhaps less, and he says that Circassian officers, forced into Russian service in the Kouban, would rise with them and assist their efforts to drive out the oppressors. If this rising of the Circassian people takes place at the same times as your Admiral’s attack on Kertch and the entry of a naval squadron into the Sea of Azoff, Serfir Pasha is confident that it will be successful. He—” she broke off, in obedience to Serfir’s raised hand, and he spoke to her in low, earnest tones. Phillip waited, endeavouring to guess, from the expression on his face, what he was saying. It was evidently something of importance, for his lieutenants were listening with rapt attention and, when he had done, two or three of them added their voices to his, addressing Selina, who nodded her understanding.

  “Well, mademoiselle?” Phillip prompted. “What does the Pasha say?”

  Selina turned, meeting his gaze gravely. “
He asks if, when you return to Ghelenjik, you will forward a request to your Admiral to send ships to bombard Anapa and Soujak? He says that our forces have no artillery and, if they are to attack fortified places, they must have the support of guns or they will be throwing their lives away to no purpose. He will ask the Turks for field guns, with trained gunners to man them, but he would feel more confident if he could be assured that some English ships were at hand to help him if need be.”

  Phillip smiled into her anxious eyes, recalling the Admiral’s final instructions to him before he had left the Royal Albert in Kertch Bay. “If you see fit and believe such a manoeuvre necessary to impress the Circassians,” Sir Edmund Lyons had said, “take some of the leaders with you and fire a few broadsides at the Anapa batteries . . .”

  “I will forward His Excellency’s request,” he promised. “In the firm belief that it will be acceded to and I will also—provided that he accompanies me to Ghelenjik within the next two or three days—take him aboard my own ship and endeavour to disable the gun batteries at Anapa.”

  Selina translated what he had said and a concerted roar of approval greeted her words. Serfir’s dark eyes glowed with satisfaction as the girl, turning to Phillip again, intimated his agreement to this suggestion. “The Pasha will accompany you to Ghelenjik within the time you have specified, Commander Hazard. He says that according to the information he has received from his scouts, it seems likely that the Russian supply train will attempt to pass through the Hamri Valley sometime before noon tomorrow. If it should be delayed, it will probably only be for twenty-four hours, so he asks that you will wait here until the ambush he has planned has been successfully carried out.”

  Phillip inclined his head. “Tell him, if you please, mademoiselle, that I will wait. And tell him also that if I and my men can be of any assistance to him tomorrow, our services are his to command.”

  Selina repeated his answer and the Pasha clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder, speaking at some length in his own language. “He says I am to thank you,” Selina explained, smiling herself now. “You are to consider yourself his honoured guest. He is grateful that you have come to him and he promises that he will arrange for you and your sailors to occupy a safe vantage point tomorrow, so that you may watch how the Circassians make war. When he, in his turn, is your guest on board your ship, he will ask you to extend a like courtesy to him.”