A Tsar's Gratitude

Chapter I

During the morning of that eventful 5th of November on which was fought one of the grandest battles that ever English soldiers took a hand in, a young Russian Grand Duke, who intended, together with his brother, to be a spectator of the projected attack upon the British position at Inkermann, had an exciting adventure which very nearly proved his last, and went nigh to depriving Russia of a future Tsar, but gained for the young imperial prince a life-long friend, and for the present writer an important character in this history. What happened was something like this. The princes, surrounded by a brilliant suite of officers, were engaged in inspecting the troops about to take part in the day's work, riding in and out of the ranks drawn up for their inspection, and greeted everywhere with that explosive Russian military salutation which sounds like " Drai Jeldyoo !

" The staff were in the best of spirits, and so were the Grand Dukes, for great things were expected of the troops this day ; and there was much light-hearted conversation and laughter, in which the Princes Alexander and Constantine took their full share. Suddenly something happened, however, which, though viewed at first rather as an entertaining episode than otherwise, soon took a more serious aspect. As the glittering company passed a troop of the Gardes a, Cheval, the horse of one of the troopers took fright and bolted, startled by the sudden greeting of the soldiers to their imperial visitors ; and instantly the horse of the Grand Duke Alex ander started in pursuit. Constantine, his brother, roared with laughter, and offered to back the prince for a hundred roubles ; but the trooper's charger was a splendid animal, as most of the horses of that fine regiment are, and was not to be so easily overtaken.

On and on went the pair, to the delight of the entire army — a glorious race ; and it was not until the animals were seen to be heading straight for the English lines that any one began to look grave. " Why, confound the fellow," said Constan tine, " he is leading my brother straight for the British lines. What if they were to gallop into range of the guns . " As though in answer to this speech, there was a puff of smoke from the top of the hill in the distance, and though the missile did not reach within half a mile of the galloping pair, it was nevertheless clear that they had been observed, and that the shot might be accepted as a warning. At the same moment a horseman was seen to shoot out from the ranks of the Red Hus sars, the nearest regiment at that moment to the flying pair of riders, and to start in pursuit venire a, terre — at racing speed.

The last horseman was splendidly mounted ; he be longed to a lighter regiment, and was a lighter man than the Grand Duke, and it was seen that he rapidly decreased the distance which separated him from the latter ; for the prince's horse, besides having the disadvantage of carrying a heavy weight — the Romanofs are with but few exceptions tall, big men — was labouring now under the additional impediment of a strong application of the curb, which, though failing to stop the excited animal, or even very greatly to diminish its speed, con siderably penalised it in the race. The leader — the trooper whose horse had bolted in the first instance — was still well ahead, and though he appeared to be tugging and swearing at his mount to the top of his bent, his exertions did not seem to have any effect whatever upon the iron-mouthed beast, which, alarmed by the clatter of hoofs behind it, or perhaps de lighted with the excitement ofthe race, carried its rider at a terrific rate towards the enemy's lines.

By this time the glittering group of anxious officers, with the Grand Duke Constantine at their head, was moving pretty fast in the direction taken by the three flying horsemen. The Grand Duke looked grave, and no longer laughed or even spoke. Excepting an occa sional ejaculation from one or another of the horrified staff, there was not a word said, as all cantered slowly on in pursuit of the chase. Meanwhile the three horsemen were now undoubtedly within range of the British guns, and added to the occasional banging of the fieldgun, which had several times tried its distance at the little body of cavalry so rashly approaching its fire, there now came more frequent puffs of smoke and the sharper crack of rifles. The position of the three racers was growing every moment more dangerous. " The hussar is gaining fast," said Constan tine; "but what does he mean to do — head my brother's horse .

Look at the trooper — con found him — he has the best horse of the three — he is going far ahead — what does the hussar mean to do ? Who is it, your Excellency . " " It's too far to see, your Highness," replied Menshikof, the commander-in-chief, who rode, pale and agitated, at the Grand Duke's side. The young prince imperial was more or less in his charge, and the general did not like to think what the terrible Nicholas might do if anything should happen to him. " It is either Golovanof or Dostoief, your Highness," said an aide-de-camp, "but I cannot tell which at this distance. I go by the horse; none but those two possesses such a flier as that one there ! " It was indeed a flier, and long as the start given to the Grand Duke had been, his pursuer was now close at his heels. All who watched held their breath, wondering what the hussar intended to do.

Head the prince's horse and cause it to bear round and away out of danger? That was felt to be the best course, if it could be so managed. But meanwhile matters came to a crisis rather quicker than was expected. The trooper, whose horse led the race by at least one hundred yards, was suddenly seen to raise his arms and fall from the saddle; at the same moment his charger swerved, plunged, and striking the ground with its head, turned completely over, rolled round once or twice, and lay still. " Good God— look at that ! " muttered Con stantine, crossing himself vehemently, while every hand among the group of watchers hastened to do the same. " Lord, have mercy upon us ! — Alexander will be within range of their rifles in a moment. Head him, hussar, head him ! " he shouted excitedly, forgetting that his brother was hundreds of yards beyond any possibility of hearing.

But, apparently, the hussar had other ideas as to the best course to be pursued in this emergency. Almost at the very instant that the trooper and his horse entered the line of rifle-fire and fell dead he had caught up to the Grand Duke ; and now, if those behind could have heard so far, they would have understood his intentions. "Hold on, sir; hold on tight!" he shouted. " I'm going to hamstring him ! " And leaning over, the hussar deftly drew his sabre across the galloping charger's ham string. The Grand Duke's horse made a few halting bounds forward and then stopped dead, while the hussar rushed past him, and was carried fifty yards farther before he succeeded in pulling up. Those fifty yards sealed the fate of the poor charger, for at that moment the line of fire was entered and the animal fell dead, pierced by half a dozen bullets, pitching its rider over its head as it plunged heavily to earth.

A sigh of relief passed, like a puff of wind, from rank to rank of those who had watched the race as the Grand Duke was seen to have stopped in his mad career in the very nick of time. " Lord help us, that's a good hussar ! " muttered Constantine, crossing himself once more. "That is a man to be remembered, Menshikof!" " His Imperial Majesty will not forget him after this," said the general, " of that your Highness may rest assured ; but it appears to me that the British bullets have cheated our friend of his reward ! " " Nay, see — your Excellency — he is alive ! " said a younger and sharper sighted member of the staff; "he is sitting up, leaning against the horse — wounded though, I think." " Certainly wounded, or he would try to retire from that warm place," some one added. "But — good Lord, have mercy upon us — what is Alexander Nicolaievitch doing?

His Highness is walking straight into the line of fire ! " To the horror of all, such appeared to be the case. The Grand Duke had dismounted from his panting disabled horse and seemed to be walking up to join the wounded hussar. This is what was actually taking place. The hussar officer had received two bullets, one in the thigh, the other in the hand, and had settled himself under cover of his dead charger to bind his wounds with his handker chief and to collect his wits, somewhat scat tered by the heavy fall he had just experienced, before attempting to crawl away out of danger. He was so engaged when he observed the officer whose horse he had disabled dismount and approach him. " Go back, go back, whoever you are ! " he cried ; " don't you see I am under fire ? " "But you are wounded!" shouted the un recognised Grand Duke.

"How are you going to get back ? " "I shall crawl all right in a minute or two," said the other ; "go back, you, for God's sake." "No, no!" cried the Grand Duke. "You have saved my life ; I must certainly do the same for you if I can. There is no danger, for, see, they are not even firing at us ! " This was true, for the chivalrous young British officer in command of the outpost, whose good shooting had caused such a flutter in the Russian staff, seeing that it was a matter of life-saving under fire, had given orders that the brave Russian officer should be allowed to perform his heroic action unmolested. Accordingly the Grand Duke was permitted to walk deliberately up to the now fainting hussar, take him up in his arms and carry him away in safety. Had his ears been sharp enough the Grand Duke might have heard the cheer with which the British outpost greeted this achievement.

Bearing his unconscious burden as easily as he would have carried a ten-years' child, the Tsarevitch stepped briskly out of danger, and by the time he had covered the hundred yards or so of ground which appeared to him sufficient to place him out of range of possible bullets and had laid his burden upon the ground, the group of pale and gasping staff-officers had cantered up within earshot, and had begun to overwhelm him with respectful reproaches. But these the Grand Duke quickly silenced, waving Menshikof and the rest aside with the remark that any one of them — and he hoped every Russian officer in the army — would have done the same. Meanwhile restoratives were administered to the young hussar, and the wounded man presently groaned and opened his eyes. Then, noticing in what resplendent company he was, he sat up and rubbed those organs.

" Who are you, my fine fellow ? " asked the commander-in-chief. " Lieutenant Vladimir Dostoief of the Red Hussars, your Excellency," replied that in dividual automatically, for his head buzzed still, and he was not sure whether he stood upon that or the other extremity of his person. " Call yourself captain then from to-day," said Menshikof; "you are a lucky young fellow and a smart rider, and the Tsar shall hear of your exploit. You have, under Provi dence, saved the most valuable life but one in Russia." Dostoief looked puzzled, then he glanced at the Grand Duke bending over him, and half recognised him. He blushed with surprise and gratification. "Are you the Grand Duke ? " he muttered. " Upon my word I did not know it when I " Dostoief tried to struggle upon his feet, but groaned and fell back.

" I beg your pardon," he added, murmuring still more feebly, " but my head feels so " At this point the wounded man fainted once more and was carried by careful hands to the rear. Here he was placed in charge of the Grand Duke's own medical attendant, under whose ministrations he was soon made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. And here, too, he was constantly visited by the young Tsarevitch until he was strong enough to be sent back to St. Petersburg ; and in the hospital building within the walls of Sebastopol were laid the seeds of a friend ship between these two which was to last for many a year and many a decade, and which was destined to be productive of results which I hope to lay before my readers in the course of this history.

Chapter II

One more incident in connection with Inker maim — that battle of the Titan Thomas Atkins — and I have done with the Crimea, which is, I know, a hackneyed subject, and must not be dwelt upon at any length. Young Dostoief had been carried safely to the rear ; the Russian commander-in-chief had disposed his forces; the two Grand Dukes had encouraged the troops of the Tsar by riding in and out, and saluting all and sundry arms of the service ; the English, on the top of their hill, had made some little preparation for re sisting attacks upon their position, and the great battle began. This fight of Inkermann was a magnificent " scrimmage," for it was at times little else ; yet for all that, scrimmage or Homeric battle, or whatever the historian may prefer to call it, it was nevertheless one of the grandest fights that British troops ever took a hand in.

It was Tommy Atkins' own particular battle, for his officers played a com paratively small part in the fray; and Thomas, on that great day, withstood, by sheer pluck and obstinacy, the determined attacks of column after column of the enemy's picked troops, who outnumbered him as twenty to one. Not that the Russians fought ill ! on the contrary, they struggled bravely enough ; but Tommy had placed himself at the top of a steepish hill, and regiment after regiment climbed that hill under fire and almost reached the top where brave Thomas stood and peppered at him, only to quaver and double up, out of breath and demoralised, and to turn and run at the last moment. Among the Russian troops engaged, on that memorable 5th of November, in giving Tommy Atkins his innings at Inkermann was a certain regiment known as the Okhotsk, in which regiment one Alexander Philipof enjoyed the rank of captain.

The Okhotsk had, during the early part of the day, attempted more than once to climb the steep ascent at the crest of which was the British position, and, like the rest of those who made the attempt, had been beaten back with loss, unable to withstand the energetic reception that Mr. Atkins was ever ready to offer to all visitors from below. Shortly before midday a column of the Okhotsk had just retreated pell-mell down the hill for the third time, and the officers were busy re dressing the ranks and haranguing the men in preparation for a fourth attempt. This was a column of close upon one thousand men, and these had succumbed, when near the top, to a determined charge of one hundred and twenty soldiers of the Guards, who, finding that the Russians had approached rather closer to their position than they considered advisable, had flung themselves downhill upon the mass and overwhelmed the poor panting Russian soldiers by sheer bounce and bluffing.

The Russian officers, and chief among them young Philipof, were furious, and eloquently sarcastic as they strove to awaken their men to the shame of their thrice-repeated defeat, so that abuse and strong language were the order of the day. The poor Okhotsk lay or stood about, panting and puffing, and wiping the sweat from their faces ; they listened to their officers but paid very little heed to their threats and abuse, for the Russian soldier is half sheep and half philosopher, and wild talking does not impose upon him. He is unlike a sheep in that he is as brave as a man need be ; but like the sheep he will follow the leader whether into danger or out of it, and if one man turns and runs it is probable that the rest will do the same ; but having run away, or achieved his end, or indeed whatever may have happened, he will not be greatly disturbed, because he is a fatalist ; and therefore he philosophically con cludes that, it having been the will of Provi dence that this or that should have occurred, nothing else could have happened, and there fore it is unnecessary to be either elated or discouraged or any otherwise than perfectly calm and contented.

On this occasion Captain Philipof certainly did his best to startle his sweating, panting philosophers into renewed energy and a sense of shame. He had done his utmost to save the column from the humiliation of retreat. He had sworn at and even struck the men of his own company at the first indication of a desire to run, but all in vain; and as he now stood upon a mound, drawn sword in hand, abusing and haranguing his men preparatory to forming line for a new attack he was a very angry person indeed, and doubtless used language which he would have been ashamed to recall in moments of calm. " Now, listen, you sons of dogs!" he shouted. " The column will immediately receive orders to renew the attack. Let the others do as they please, but my sotnia (hundred) shall not turn tail again to please these beggarly English.

I swear to you that the first coward who turns and runs this time shall have one of my revolver bullets to carry downhill with him. You know me, sons of dogs that you are ; I shall do what I say. I can shoot a man as well as most ! " As a matter of fact Philipof was an extremely good shot with his revolver, and the men knew it. A very few moments after this threat had left the angry captain's lips, orders came for the column to start once again upon its fatal up-hill journey. Away it went, colours flut tering ; men singing their stirring songs as only the Russian soldiers can sing them ; and a huge ikon held aloft in the midst by way of benediction upon the effort about to be made. Up the hill it went, a determined-looking host and formidable withal ; up the hill and into view of our brave guardsmen, who greeted it, as usual, with much cheering and with a murderous fire from such of their rifles as had anything in them, most of the ammunition having been used up before this.

This time the brave Okhotsk would take no denial, but came steadily on and on in spite of the fire, on and upwards until the head of the huge column had reached within a very few yards of our plucky little band of guardsmen. These latter, receiving no support from be hind, and having burned most of their powder, began slowly to lose ground, contesting every inch of it, however; those who had thrown down their useless rifles fighting like Homeric heroes with stones and bits of rock and anything they could lay hands upon. It was just at this critical moment that the noise of cheering and the tramp of footsteps from the rear indicated to the heroic little band engaged with the enemy that assistance was at hand, and that others would arrive in a moment to share the glory of turning this big Russian column, and sending it flying down the hill after its prede cessors.

This, Tommy Atkins felt, would never do ; inspirited by the knowledge that support was near in case of absolute need, and at the same time determined if possible to do without it, the brave defenders now pulled themselves together. " Charge again, boys ! " some one bawled, and grasping sword or bayonet more tightly and setting teeth and muscle, these tough fellows sprang forward once more full in the face of the advancing Russians, and in a moment the little band was in and among the writhing masses of the Muscovite column, stabbing, striking, firing, cheering, and in many eases fighting with their fists only. As seemed the rule on this extraordinary day, the huge mass was unable to withstand the spirited attack of the few ; it tottered, wavered a moment, then broke and fled downhill. ■2 Many of the English soldiers could not fail to notice the conduct of one handsome Russian officer ; indeed, so frantic was this individual and so energetic in trying to keep his men up to the mark, that his behaviour caused a good deal of laughter among the light-hearted Britons.

This officer — who seemed half mad with excitement — was, as some one expressed it, for all the world like a Jack-in-the-box, simultaneously here and there and everywhere, alternately swearing at and entreating his men to be firm, threatening them with sword and pistol, shouting, waving his arms and his sword, laughing and crying in turns. This was Alex ander Philipof, who appeared to wear a charmed life, exposing himself a hundred times to the enemy's bullets without receiving hurt or harm. Possibly his excitement so amused Mr. Atkins that the latter forgot to shoot him down. At any rate Philipof waved his arms and shouted himself hoarse with im punity. "Now, Okhotsk! Stand firm, Okhotsk!' he yelled : " the Tsar's sons are watching us — down with the English dogs — forward ! " This reminder that the Tsar's sons watched from below had probably been dinned into the ears of the poor puffing Russian soldiers all day ; nevertheless, the presence of the princes did not avail to win the fight for their imperial father.

On the contrary, no sooner had Philipof mentioned the Tsar's sons, and the necessity to show a bold front in consideration of the presence of their imperial highnesses, than the column showed unmistakable signs of breaking, as it had broken three times already this day. First one man turned, then another, then half a dozen, then the rest, and in a moment the entire body was in retreat. The first offender was a big, black-browed, white -faced fellow, a typical Russian soldier to look at, expressionless and dirty, but lower ing savagely when angered. This man had suddenly thrown down his musket, spat — a la Basse — towards the British lines, and then turned and started off at a trot downhill, the rest following him. But the offender had not proceeded more than a couple of yards when Alexander Philipofs bullet whizzed through his cheek, and with a fearful oath he brought up.

" You dog ! " yelled the officer, frantic with rage, " like a dog you shall die ! Okhotski, be men ! stand firm with me ! " So saying, Philipof fired a second shot at the coward, not waiting, however, to note its effect, and facing quickly round, discharged the remaining bullets of his revolver into the advancing English ranks. A few of those who had begun to fall back faced about when he did, and formed in line with Philipof, while the man whom he had wounded sat, or fell down in his place, swearing and bleeding, and looking in his rage like a very demon. On came the cheering, fighting British ; and one of the first to be struck down was Philipof, who received a pretty severe wound. Of the few who had stood firm with him there was not one who was not wounded or taken prisoner ; and among those taken was the dark-visaged private, who with the rest was sent to the rear, and attended to in the Bala klava field-hospital, where, to the amusement of the British surgeons, he appeared to care nothing whatever for his own wound, or for their probing and dressing of it, his whole attention being obviously devoted to the case of one of his officers who was treated in the same tent, and was very much more severely wounded than himself.

From this officer's face the wounded private never once took his eyes, even while his own hurt was being dressed, but only glared and muttered in a way that surprised and amused his kind attendants, who were pleased to observe the devotion of the Russian soldiery to their officers, but a little astonished at their way of showing it. " He seems precious angry about something," remarked Headley, a young army surgeon ; " I suppose he's riled that our fellows wounded his favourite officer : thinks nothing of this hole in his face, which must be painful enough too ! " "Very pretty devotion, I call it," said Briggs, his senior ; " see they're put in the same tent, Headley, if the fellow is so fond of his officer. What a mug though, eh ? Glad he's not fond of me — I should be afraid he'd want to eat me !

" And so it happened that wounded Philipof was placed in the same ward with Petka Gorbunof, private of his own regiment, the hole in whose cheeks had been drilled by Philipofs own bullet. There was a third Russian in the same tent, an old sergeant who had stood by Philipof when that officer rallied a few of his men, preferring death to repeated scuttling. This patriarchal old soldier was not very severely wounded, though the knock on the head from the butt of a British rifle which floored him had left his wits somewhat muddled. What remained of his intelligence, however, sufficed to fill old Anton's faithful heart with satisfaction when he realised that he was to be left in company of his favourite officer, Philipof, who was a great friend of his, and to see whom so sorely smitten had been a grief to the old man.

Petka Gorbunof, or " Black Petka " as he was called by his fellow-soldiers, was glad also to be quartered with his captain ; but then he was animated by other motives than affection for Philipof and the desire to see him through his troubles. Briggs and Headley had made a little mistake as to this !

Chapter III

Folks in St. Petersburg were well aware that a battle was to be fought on or about the 5th of November by the troops engaged upon active service in the Crimea. On that day the churches and cathedrals ofthe capital were filled with the relatives of men and officers — wives and mothers, lovesick girls, sisters, even small children — upon their knees before the shrines of patron saints, pleading for intercession for the safety of their men-folk in Sebastopol. Among these there knelt in a secluded corner of the Kazan Cathedral the graceful figure of a young worshipper whose whole being appeared to be absorbed in her devo tions. Olga Markova knelt before the ikon of St. Alexander Nefsky, her eyes fixed upon the figure of the warrior-saint, which they dis cerned but dimly, for they were full of tears, as her heart was of prayerful thought for her lover and the danger in which he stood about this time.

Olga Markova, which is feminine of Markof, was an extremely pretty girl for a Russian. She had the fair, clustering hair that Russian girls delight in, and the pretty pink and white complexion which is equally common ; but she was without the usual dumpy, or wide, or flat retrousse nose which nearly always, together with a huge mouth, spoils all the advantages gained by a pretty head of hair and a delicate complexion, and sometimes a lovely pair of eyes, in a Russian face. Olga had a refined little nose, and two very pathetic-looking blue eyes ; and though her mouth was somewhat large, her teeth were not, and so it did not much matter. Olga possessed another char acteristic very common to girls of her nation ality ; she was intensely superstitious and a very devout church-woman ; indeed, she had started at an early hour this morning for the cathedral in order to pray before the ikon, or picture of her lover's patron saint, Alexander Nefsky, for his safety during the course of the campaign.

Alexander Philipof, or Sasha as his inti mates called him, was not much of a church goer, though far from being a professed unbeliever ; he left church-going to the ladies, as he was accustomed to say, whose prayers were far more likely to reach their destination than any his lips could offer. Nevertheless, on the eve of his departure for the Crimea, Olga had induced him to accompany her — as a special parting indul gence to herself — to the Kazan Cathedral, and the pair had there knelt together before the shrine of the warrior-saint, Alexander of the Neva — who was Sasha's patron, and an exceedingly appropriate patron for so pugnacious and warlike a person as Alexander Philipof. This saint, one of the three titular guardians of St. Petersburg, is declared to have wrested the Neva from its Swedish pro prietors (they having stolen it from the Kare lian Finns in still earlier days, and these again from the Lapps), and to have arrived at the spot now occupied by the city of St. Peters burg seated upon a paving-stone, which floated up-stream upon the Neva waters in a manner somewhat unusual among paving stones.