To Punish the Czar. A story of the Crimea, etc

Front matter

Uniform with this Work. To Punish the Czar. A Story of the Crimea. By Horace Hutchinson. Told out of School ; or, Humorous Yarns of School Life and Adventure. By A. J. Daniels. Red Rose and Tiger Lily ; or, In a Wider World. By L.T. Meade. Bashful Fifteen. By L. T. Meade. A Sweet Girl Graduate. By L. T. Meade. Polly: A New-fashioned Girl. By L. T. Meade. The Palace Beautiful. A Story for Girls. By L. T. Meade. A World of Girls. The Story of a School. By L. T. Meade. Under Bayard's Banner. A Story of the Days of Chivalry. By Henry Frith. Bound by a Spell; or, The Hunted Witch of the Forest. By the Hon. Mrs. Greene. The Champion of Odin ; or, Viking Life in the Days of Old. A Tale of Ancient War. By J. F. Hodgetts. The White House at Inch Gow. By Sarah Pitt. The King's Command. A Story for Girls.

By Maggie Symington. Lost in Samoa. A Tale of Adventure in the Navigator Islands. By E. S. Ellis. Tad ; or, " Getting Even " with Him. By E. S. Ellis For Fortune and Glory. A Story of the Soudan War. By Lewis Hough. " Follow my Leader ; " or, The Boys of Templeton. " By Talbot Baines Reed. Lost Among White Africans. A Boy's Adventures on the Upper Congo. By David Kek. Cassell & Company, Limited, Ludgate Hill, London, E.C. 17—9-94 "TO PUNISH THE CZAR" BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Fairway Island. With Illustrations by W. S. StaCEY. 3-r. 6d. "Whoever wishes to make a boy supremely happy for two evenings can accomplish his purpose at a cheap rate by presenting him with ' Fairway Island.' " British Weekly. " Among adventure-books we have found none mure out of tlie common and few more thrilling than ' Fairway Island.' "—Manchester Guardian.

Casscll &* Company, Limited, London ; Paris & Melbourne. it's a whole bloomin' blessed column of blue begcars1'" TO PUNISH THE CZAR" A STORY OF THE CRIMEA BY HORACE HUTCHINSON AUTHOR OF "FAIRWAY ISLAND, ETC. II 77 H EIGHT OR 7G 7 NAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. B. WOLLEN CASSELL and COMPANY, Limited LONDON, PARIS &■ MELBOURNE 1S94 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Preface

. The great historian of the Crimean War maintains that, after the battle of the Alma, the way was plain and simple for the allied armies to march into Sebas topol. I have adopted that view in this story. At the same time, it should be borne in mind that there is another view which is held by some who arc as competent to judge as he, and who took part in the campaign and the flank march. Their opinion is that, even if the allies could have marched into Sebastopol, they could not have stayed there, for the town was quite unfortified at that time, and the ships in the harbour could have been careened over so as to rain shot and shell into it. However, there is a con sensus of opinion as to the general dissatisfaction in the army that it was not led at once to the assault. At Balaklava Kinglake maintains that thc un happily misunderstood order which led to the brilliant charge of the Light Brigade was intended as an order to charge the nearest redoubt.

The opinion of those who took part in the charge, and studied the ground immediately afterwards, is that the nearest redoubt stood on ground which rose too steeply to permit of an effective cavalry attack. But it is impossible to be surprised at this difference of opinion when one hears such different views of an action propounded even by those who took part in it and fought side by side. H. H. CONTENTS. CHAI'TEK PAGE I. Speeding the Parting i II. A Tedious Progress 30 III. The Banks ok the Ai.ma 47 IV. News from the War 71 V. The Flank March S4 VI. Balaklava 97 VI I. Sad Hearts at Hume 132 VI 1 1. Inkerman 150 IX. The Winter of Discontent 171 X. The Progress of the Siege 1S2 XI. News from Russia 199 XII. The Fall of Sebastopol 209 XIII. The Prisoners 223 XIV. A Resurrection 235 XV. A Crack Russian Corps 252 XVI.

Hero and Heroine LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 'It's a whole bloomin' blessed column of BLUE BEGGARS ! " . . • ■ . . . Frontispiece "Then there was a scene of enthusiasm INDESCRIBABLE" Tosace/. "AND, LEAPING ON THE BREASTWORK, SET UP THE FLAG ON HIGH " ,, 62 "He THREW IT OVER THE PARAPET" ... „ II4 "'Missing!' she said to herself, as she laid the paper down" ,, i40 "The storm was blinding" .... ,,174 "'Archie! You! How do you come here?'" ,, 224 "'Did you know that George Raeburn was BLIND ? ' " „ "TO PUNISH THE CZAR."

Chapter I. Speeding The Parting

There was high revel at Hatherleigh Hall, where Squire Wayland was giving a dance to all the country-side. The fiddlers were scraping away in the ball-room, and light feet were moving rhythmically, and hearts were beating high with gaiety and pleasure. Yet in the general atmosphere of merri ment a close observer might have noticed an under current of deep feeling, even though he had not known its cause. In the pauses of the dances the conversation between the waltzers took a serious and thoughtful tone, and non-dancers formed them selves into groups of eager talkers in corners and in passages ; for these were the early days of 1854 — a time when the discussion of big questions filled the air, when wars and rumours of wars were dis turbing the great peace which had brooded over England and nourished her commerce for so many a year.

At no home in Great Britain was it more natural that these themes should be the centre of discussion than at Hatherleigh Hall, for the family of Squire Wayland and his lady consisted of but three — all boys, all enrolled in their country's service, and each expecting with eagerness the final summons which should call him to action. Percy, the eldest son, heir to the property, was a lieutenant in the " Heavies " ; Archibald, the second, a cornet of Lancers ; Charles, the youngest, a midshipman in the Navy. B "To Punish the Czar." 2 Even now, on the night of the dance, the two former were under orders to hold themselves in readiness to proceed with their regiments to the East, to assist the Turks, who were at war with the Russians on the Danube. The dance was in the nature of a farewell gather ing.

All the boys, including Charlie, had succeeded in obtaining leave ; and the presence of these and others who might shortly be going forth to scenes in which death came with suddenness, and unforetold as a thief in the night, threw over the bright ball room a sense of pathos which the numberless lights, and gay flowers, and cheerful music and dresses could not altogether dispel. At this date, too, as happens so often in times of stress of human affairs, men's hearts were estranged by the violence with which one or other held to his opinion. Even now, long before supper-time, a stormy scene had occurred between Squire Wayland, the host, and the Hon. and Rev. Stephen Orford, thc rector of the parish. It was a scene which, in the case of other men, might have led to serious rupture ; but these two knew each other right well — knew the little value of their numerous differences, the great worth of their heartfelt friendship.

They had been together at Eton and at Oxford, and the closest of friends for many a year since, the squire having given to Mr. Orford this the family living that the intimacy of their school and college days might not be broken. Nevertheless, it was a lurid looking storm, of the sort which is said to be " likely to develop dangerous energy," that broke forth in that which was called, in especial, "the squire's room," closely adjoining the ball-room. The clergyman had come in, leading on his arm Miss Withington, a middle-aged lady with greyish hair, but with a delicate and purely natural bloom of complexion which belied thc whiteness of her locks. Her face wore a beautiful look of benevolence and sweetness which seemed in itself a sufficient reason for the name of " Dear Miss Withington," by which she was commonly known among the people of the village.

She lived in a little house, once a farmhouse, but now somewhat glorified to suit her requirements, with her niece, a dark-eyed young beauty, whom people generally called, for distinction from her aunt, " The Little Miss Withington." Miss Withington the elder was the Lady Bountiful of the parish, the dispenser of the charities of the rector, who was a very rich man. It had long been prophesied that the rector, who was a widower, with an only daughter, would offer his hand and heart and fortune to Miss Withington. But whether the prophecy had so far been ever realised, it did not appear that the acceptance of the offer, which the prophecy seemed to take for granted, had yet come to pass. As the clergyman and Miss Withington passed into the little room, it appeared that they had been discussing the prospects of some one or other of their village proteges, for the rector was saying : " So now it seems that he will have to go to the East, to take part in this sad war."

It happened that the squire had been standing on the hearthrug, in colloquy with some of his cronies. As the rector and Miss Withington came in there was a lull in the conversation of the others which allowed the clergyman's last words to be audible. " Sad war, sir ! " the squire repeated, with volcanic ire. " Who dares to say, sir, that this is a sad war ? " " Pardon me, my dear sir," said the rector cour teously, hoping by the soft answer to turn away the other's wrath ; " I had not intended that my words should be heard by any but Miss Withington." " But as it happens, sir, it occurred to me to over hear them," the squire replied, " and I ask you again, sir, who is it that dares to speak of this as a sad war?" B " To Punish the Czar." 4 " Since you insist upon it, my dear sir," the rector answered, still in perfectly courteous but steadfast tones, " / venture to say that this is a sad war.

Of any war I would use the same epithet, and say it is a sad war. War appears to me necessarily a very sad thing. But this strikes me as a peculiarly sad war, since we English seem to be taking up our arms in aid of the Turks — a Mohammedan Power — against those who, whatever the errors of the Greek Church, are in the truest sense Christians." Miss Withington looked in some perturbation from the delicate, aristocratic face of the man on whose arm she was leaning to the round, rubicund, and choleric visage of thc squire. " Greek Church, sir ! Greek Church ! " the latter repeated with indignant scorn. " You know very well indeed what was the beginning of all the business — a quarrel between the Greek Church, for which you are now arguing, and the Latin Church, to which you, as one of its ministers, belong.

And now you — you actually speak in defence of the Greek Church against the Latin. You are a traitor, sir ! " Miss Withington shivered on the clergyman's arm at the horrid accusation thus thrown at him by his friend. How he might have answered it one cannot know, for at thc word a ringing girlish laugh came from the doorway behind Mr. Orford, followed by the sound of a voice of indescribable roguery exclaim ing : " Give it to him, Squire, give it to him ! Oh, I am so glad ! " All turned towards the door to face the new-comer, and it was a wonderful sight that they beheld : Miss Alice Orford, namely, Stephen Orford's only child. She stood with her hand upon the arm of the partner with whom she had been dancing ; but none, in the beauty of her appearance, thought of him. For she was very beautiful indeed, if a tall and magnificent figure and a face brilliant in colouring and expression are beauty.

If nought but Grecian profiles are beauty, Miss Orford had it not ; but it is doubtful if any Grecian profile— even the vision of Aphrodite herself — could have caught so spellbound for a moment those in that little room — the scene of wordy war. Her brilliant lips were parted in a roguish smile, her great grey eyes were alight with the joy of dancing, her cheeks glowed with life and health, her bright auburn hair was like an aureole about her oval face. In her white gown her tall figure seemed a marvel of grace. " Give it to him, Squire," she said ; " give it to him. I am so glad ! " Her father gazed round at her in silence a second ; then his face, despite himself, broke into a smile. " Alice ! " he said, in a voice of reproof, yet with a laugh which sounded like a soft far-away echo of his daughter's. Then he added : " Traitor !

Who calls me a traitor ? This is the arch-traitor — to her own father, even." " Alice, my dear, come here," said the squire, with almost paternal geniality, his wrath, as its wont was, vanishing as quickly as it had arisen. " Let's look at you. You're in grand condition to-night, my dear," he said, gazing at her admiringly. " Grand condition, Squire," she answered, laughing. " I'm not a hunter. What a way to speak of a girl ! " "Aren't you a hunter?" he asked, with his jolly laugh. '■ I don't know who's oftener in at the death." For Miss Orford was the finest lady rider in the county, and one of the best-known figures with the squire's hounds. " You're likely to be in at a good many deaths to-night too, I should say, by the look of you. Who's the victim at present?" he added, glancing towards her partner.

" Oh, I see ; it's George Raeburn. — Well, George," he said, in kindly greeting — and a tinge of sadness came into his cheery fox hunting voice—" so you're here on the same errand " To Punish the Czar." as the rest. Under orders for the 'East too, ch ? Glorious ! isn't it ? " But the tone a little belied the closing words. " Yes, sir," said the young fellow eagerly ; " we're under orders, and Arthur's regiment too. It'll be quite a Beverleigh party out on the Danube." " You're not Beverleigh ; you're Welsh," said the girl beside him ; but a kindly glance and smile dispelled all possible offence at the disclaimer. " Only just over the Border, though," he answered ; "but I'm here so much with Arthur, mayn't I call my self one of you ? " For the Line regiment in which Arthur Raeburn was a captain had been for some time stationed in the neighbouring town of Beverleigh, and George had taken all opportunities of his leave to stay with the elder brother who was married, and lived, with his fair-haired wife and their boy, in a little house in the town.

"Well," said the girl, addressing the squire again, "I seem to have come just in time to spoil a good fight between you and father. Come, take me away, Mr. Raeburn. The peace-making role does not suit me." Miss Withington watched them with a soft smile as they went, the girl's auburn head nearly on a level with the fair, curling hair of the young soldier. But the latter had a firm, well-set figure, and a firm, well set face, which gave him a manly dignity not ill matching the girl's tall beauty. Miss Withington, looking up, found on Mr. Orford's fine features an answering smile to her own. " Perhaps," he said, in a low voice, responding to her unspoken thought ; " nor should I be ill-pleased. The boy has a fine character — a strong character. She should marry a man with a strong character."

" Tell me," Miss Orford said to young Raeburn, when they were out of hearing, " what is this war about that you are going to ? " The personal pronoun was not lost on him. Yes, he would tell her what he knew of thc intricate causes of this war to which he was g-oing-. " The Czar's ambition must be checked," he said. "You see, under pretence of protecting the Christians of the Greek Church, he has invaded the Danubian provinces " " Oh yes, I know all about that. How stupid you are ! What has any question between the Greek and Latin Churches got to do with it? — that's what I want to know." "Well, it began somewhere in the last century, when the Sultan gave the French certain rights over the holy places — the shrines, and so forth — in Palestine. The French did not do very much in the way of asserting these rights, chiefly because the Latin Church does not set any great store on pilgrimages.

But the Greek Church does — that's where the trouble began." " I see," said Miss Orford. "Go on ; go on." " So the people of the Greek Church began to go pilgrimages to these shrines, and the Czar, as head of the Greek Church, got a lot of firmans from the Sultan, giving rights to the Greek Church which were quite in opposition to the rights previously given to the Latin Church." " But you say the Latin Church did not want these rights." " Not a bit, until it saw them being taken away from it." " Oh, how I sympathise with them in that ! " Miss Orford interpolated. " What brought the whole thing to a head was a row between the Greek and Latin monks as to which were to have the key of the big door of the church at Bethlehem." " And which got it in the end ? " " Oh, the Latins, after a lot of shuffling in his slippers by the slippery old Sultan."

" To Punish the Czar" " And the Great White Bear of all the Holy Russias began to growl. Yes, yes ; go on. There's another dance beginning, but I don't care. You're interesting me. What did the Bear do then ? " " He began to be very solicitous about the safety of the Christian subjects of the Porte. When Count Leiningen went to Constantinople — you remember about the Leiningen Mission ? " " Not a single word," said the girl impcnitcntly. "All the better," the young man answered; "I shall have the pleasure of reminding you. Soon after the key business there was a rising of the Christian popu lations in Montenegro, and the Sultan sent Omar Pasha with an army to keep them quiet. This army came rather nearer the Austrian border than Austria cared about, so she sent Count Leiningen to Constan tinople with a demand that Omar Pasha should be recalled.

The Great Bear smelt evil brewing " " Evil bruin ! Don't spoil your story with bad jokes," the girl interrupted. " So he — the Czar — backed up Count Lciningcn's demand, and it looked as if he were going to be happy and have a real good fight, when the Sultan again went and spoilt it all by withdrawing Omar Pasha, and agreeing to everything that Count Leiningen had demanded." " So there was nothing left to fight about." "Well, no ; practically not. So of course the Czar had to look about for something else. He claimed a general protectorate over all the Christian subjects of the Turk, and sent Mcntchikoff to Constantinople to say he meant to have it." " And that's how it all stands just now ?" " Practically so — yes. Lord Stratford de Redclyffe has beaten Mentchikoff at every point of the story telling game at Constantinople.

There'd never have been a war at all, for all the Czar might do, but for two things : that there was another man in Europe besides the Czar who was spoiling for a fight, namely, the Emperor of the French ; and that there was in England such a thing as a Peace Party. Your father isn't a Peace Party man really, is he, Miss Orford ? " " Certainly not ! " said Miss Orford, with proper indignation; "only he says that the alliance with the Emperor of the French is an unholy alliance — an alliance with a man whose hands are steeped in innocent blood. Is that true, do you think ? " Raeburn shrugged his shoulders. " True ; yes, I suppose it's true. But there's no such plenty of allies like thc French that one can afford to look too closely." " Why does the Emperor want to fight ? " " I think there's a little bit of gratitude to England mixed up in it ; but chiefly it's to distract public atten tion from the means by which he seized the throne, and to justify the seizure by some famous exploit."

" Yes ; and now, what about the Peace Party? How, in the world's name, can that have brought on thc war?" Miss Orford rose as she spoke, and Raeburn rose with her. " Well, you see, Russia heard so much talk of England's love of peace that she thought she might do anything without stirring up England to a war. It's a bad thing always to be in extremes." " I suppose it is," Miss Orford returned. " It's my chronic state, at all events. I'm sure it's bad." " Oh yes," he replied, laughing ;" then I'm sure it must be." " Now, why could not that stupid Percy Wayland have told me all that ? " she said, as they returned to thc dancing-room. " I asked him just the same ques tions as I have asked you, and all he could say was, ' Oh, by George! you know, that old Czar, you know — utter barbarian, and the rest of it — must put a stopper on him, you know.

Ask the squire what he thinks about it.' " " To Punish the Czar." 10 Raeburn laughed, with more delight than the oc casion might seem to have warranted, at her imitation of Percy Wayland's lucid mode of description. A joyful satisfaction beamed from his honest eyes as they came beneath the glare of lights in the ball room — a satisfaction which was clouded a little when Percy Wayland himself came up, tall, handsome, the very model of all that a heavy cavalry soldier should be, to claim her as his partner. " Couldn't find you anywhere ! " the young man exclaimed. " Looked out for you somewhere in thc line of country which mother had taken, but drew it blank, you know." " Yes, I know," she said lightly, with a smile in the direction of young Raeburn. " Come along ; let's dance." Those were days in which it was the custom for young ladies to be found after a dance dutifully seated beside a chaperone.

Miss Orford was one, however, who cared not at all for the unwritten law of custom. She went on her own way with a fearless disregard, then rare, of the criticism of Mrs. Grundy, disarming, in a measure, all such criticism by the impartial and indifferent friendship with which she treated all who pleased her of the many young aspirants to her favour. At one o'clock in the morning there was a lull in the dancing. The fiddles ceased their scraping. A large printed announcement of " Supper " took the place of the number of the next dance, and a few minutes later the doors of the big dining-room were thrown open. Squire Wayland led the way, with the principal lady of the county on his arm, and the others followed after in pairs, according to their degree. This was no scrambling affair of reaching over the heads of others for a sandwich and a glass of wine ; it was a solemn feast, at which, down the long tables, was a seat for each guest.

The servants of the house, and the less-accustomed stablemen and hunt servants, were aided in their task of waiting on the feasters by the footmen, and even, in some cases, by the coachmen of the guests. For the occasion was no ordinary one, and to emphasise its solemn character, the squire called on Mr. Orford to ask a blessing. Briefly, in two Latin words, he complied, and the momentary silence was quickly succeeded by the babble of tongues and the clatter of plates and cutlery. Course followed course, rather to the tedium of some of the younger members, to whom a dance meant dancing, and who cared little for such solid entertainment. At length the last course was over, and the stout butler entered, staggering beneath the weight of the famous punch-bowl, which was an heir loom in the Wayland family.

Then, when glasses were filled, the squire rose to his feet at the head of the table, and with face beaming rosily beneath his plentiful snowy hair, demanded silence by rapping on the mahogany. " The Queen ; God bless her !" After the grandly simple toast had received its due honour, and all were again seated, he once more rose from his chair, and said — "Ladies and Gentlemen, — I know well that in getting up to make a speech on such an occasion as this I am acting contrary to custom ; and I hate going contrary to custom. I am no innovator. I am a Tory and a sportsman." (Rapturous applause followed his declaration of policy, and an audible " Well done, Squire ! " came from the knot of servants gathered in the doorway.) " Yes, sir," he repeated proudly, fancying himself again, for the moment, addressing the Speaker in the House of Commons, " I have hunted the country on the good old lines, and when you did me the honour to send me up as your representative to Parliament, I represented the county on the good old lines."

(More applause.) " To Punish the Czar" " But, ladies and gentlemen," he went on, recollecting himself, "this is no ordinary occasion. Here are we in the midst of a century which we believed to have brought the millennium of peace to our doors — a century in which we have seen growing in our metropolis that fine edifice the Crystal Palace, now transplanted to Sydenham, which we had hoped would be the splendid emblem of perpetual peace and goodwill — a century which has even produced among us a party of mischief makers " (with a keen glance in the direction of Mr. Orford), " who are not ashamed to dub themselves with the name of the Peace Party — in the midst of a century which seemed to promise us so many and such pro longed blessings, we find ourselves on the very threshold of a sanguinary war."

The squire paused a moment to refresh himself after the effect of this long sentence with a sip from his glass of punch, and his listeners took the oppor tunity for the expression of some chastened "Hear, hears." " But, ladies and gentlemen, we do not wish this war. God forbid ! So far, I am a Peace Party man myself that I can say, God forbid that we should ever wish for so great a calamity as war. But there are circumstances, as all of you but those who are of that infatuated Party — if, indeed, there be any among us to-night " (with another vindictive glance towards Mr. Orford) — "must admit, which force a man to whom honour is dear, and a country to which honour is dear, to engage even in so dreadful a thing as war. When it becomes a question, ladies and gentlemen, of protecting the right against the wrong, the weak against the strong — forgive my involuntary falling into poetry — then (I think I may venture to speak, on such an issue, for my country), then Great Britain shall never be found to shrink from the path of her duty."

(Immense applause, in course of which several glasses were emptied to shouts of " Vive Britannia ! " " Vive la France ! " and " Down with the Czar ! ") " In such a position, ladies and gentlemen," the squire resumed, " does our country find herself now. Impelled by the insatiable ambition of the Czar of Russia (groans) : of a heathen barbarian, hypocritically representing himself as the champion of a Christian people : impelled, to speak more in detail, by his inso lent demands of protectorate over the Christian sub jects of the Turk, which are but cloaks of his ambition to win for himself by the destruction of these hapless Mohammedans an outlet for his ships of war upon the Mediterranean : we are driven, in the most righteous of all causes, to take up arms for the chastisement of this rank and treacherous offender.