Chapter 19. Down At Last

________________________________________________
_ At half-past eight o'clock the next morning horsemen came dashing in, with the news that the Germans were advancing in force. Stiff--many half frozen, and half starved--it was an absolute relief, to the men, to have some break to the monotony of cold and hunger. They were already assembled under arms and, in a few minutes, the artillery upon both sides was at work.

"I fear you will see that we shall be beaten, today," Colonel Tempe said to Ralph as they mounted. "The men are worn out with hunger; disgusted at the wretched mismanagement, which sends them into a battle without having had food for twenty-four hours, and with no prospect whatever of it for another twenty-four. Besides, we ought to have been reinforced.

"Our line is too long, Ralph. There is neither direction nor management."

For a time the French held their position well, against the tremendous artillery fire which was maintained upon them. Gradually, however, the Germans pushed their heavy masses of troops forwards; and the French reserves had already been brought up.

Several of the mobile regiments showed signs of wavering. General Chanzy rode backwards and forwards along the front of the position; exposing himself recklessly, in order to give courage and confidence to his men. Cigar after cigar he smoked, as tranquilly as if sitting in an armchair, a hundred miles away from the din of battle. At last, after exchanging a few words with the generals of brigade, he called Ralph--who happened to be the only aide-de-camp unemployed--up to him.

"Captain Barclay," he said, "ride at once to General Sonis. Tell him that my division--not having received the promised reinforcements--must fall back. He has already sent, to say he is hard pressed. Ask him to hold his ground, if possible, for another half hour; by which time I shall have fallen back towards the position I left yesterday morning--but will draw rather to my right, so as to keep our connections nearer, and to afford him help, if necessary."

Without a word Ralph turned his horse, and galloped off at full speed. A quarter of an hour's riding, and he rode up to General Sonis; who was just calling upon several regiments, among whom were the Papal Zouaves, to make a charge.

This fine body of men--the Papal Zouaves--acquired, and justly acquired, more glory than any other French corps throughout the war. They behaved, upon every occasion, magnificently. In the first fight at Orleans, upon this 2nd of December, and afterwards at the battle of Le Mans, the Zouaves of Charette fought with the courage of lions. A great many of them were men of good family. All were inspired by the ardor and spirit of their chief. Their uniform was similar in cut to that of the French Zouaves; but was of a quiet gray color, trimmed with a little red braid.

Ralph rode up, and delivered his message.

"I am going to carry that position, sir," the general said; "and in that case I shall not have to fall back at all, and General Chanzy can close up on me--throwing back his left, so as not to be outflanked. If you wait a few minutes, you will see the result of this charge.

"Now, gentlemen."

So saying he rode, with his staff, in front of the line.

"Forward, men!" he shouted, drawing his sword.

Ralph had naturally fallen in with the staff, and was now able to see and admire the daring of the proposed movement which, if successful, would have changed the fortunes of the day. Upon an eminence, some three-quarters of a mile distant, were several batteries of artillery; supported by a large body of infantry, who extended to within about half the distance between the French line and their own reserves. The fire was terrific--so terrific that several of the French regiments refused to advance. Others started; but withered away so fast, under the deadly fire, that only two corps--besides the Zouaves--persevered to the end.

The Zouaves advanced at a double, but with as much coolness as if on parade. They did not fire a shot, but made straight at the Prussian infantry. As they approached the enemy's line, General Sonis and his staff fell in between the Zouaves, and a regiment of Mobiles next to them, in order not to interfere with the fire.

"For God and France!" Charette shouted, as he led the charge; and the whole regiment responded, as one man, "For God and France!"

So fierce was this onslaught that the Prussian infantry refused to face it, and fell back upon their supports. Still the Zouaves rushed on, and again the Prussians fell back; but the assault was growing more and more hopeless. The Zouaves were unsupported, save by a few hundred men. The other regiments were far in the rear. The shot and shell were mowing lanes through them. An army was in front.

At last, they halted. Colonel Charette marched on in front, waving his sword. General Sonis, with his staff, again rode forward. It was heroic, but it was heroic madness.

Again the Zouaves advanced. Again a storm of shell poured upon them, and then a regiment of German cavalry swept down. There was a crash. Charette and his officers disappeared, beneath the hoofs of the cavalry. General Sonis and his staff went down like straw before them; but the Zouaves stood firm, fired a volley into them; and then--having lost eight hundred men, in that desperate attempt to retrieve the fortunes of the day--the remainder retreated, sullenly, with their faces to the foe.

Ralph Barclay, when the cavalry swept upon them, had shot the first two of his foes with his revolver; and had then been cut down by a tall German dragoon, just at the moment that his horse fell dead, shot through the head. Ralph had a momentary vision of gleaming hoofs above him; and then he remembered nothing more, until he came to himself, hours afterwards.

His first sensation was that of intense cold. He endeavored to rise, but was powerless to move hand or foot. He lay quiet for a few minutes; and then made another effort, but with a similar want of success. This time, however, he felt that his limbs would have moved, had they not been fastened down by some weight.

He now concentrated all his strength upon one arm. It yielded suddenly and, when it was free, he was able to turn partly round, so as to feel what it was that had confined it. He found that his own blood, and that of the horse, had frozen his arm fast to the ground. It required a considerable effort before he could get altogether free, for he was stiff with the cold. Putting his sword up to his head, he found that he had been saved by the very means which were now giving him so much pain. The intense cold had frozen the blood, as it flowed; and stanched it more effectively than any surgeon could have done.

Ralph--after rubbing his hands and arms, to restore circulation--now endeavored, by the remains of twilight, to see where he was, and how he had been saved. His horse lay next to him, and almost covering him. The poor animal had fallen on to its back; or had rolled over, afterwards and, in the latter case, it was fortunate indeed, for Ralph, that it had not taken another half turn. Had it done so, it would have crushed him to death. As it was, it had reached to within an inch or two of him; partly concealing him from sight, protecting him from the cold, and also greatly diminishing his chance of being trampled upon by cavalry passing over.

A short distance off, Ralph could see parties with lanterns; and one of them seemed approaching. Far in his rear, he could hear an occasional shot; and it rushed across his mind, at once, that the French had been defeated, and were falling back upon Orleans. These lights, therefore, must be in the hands of Germans.

The thought that a German prison awaited him roused Ralph from his inactivity. It flashed across his mind that, as he had escaped before, they would take care and give him but little chance of escaping again and--although stiff, and bruised from head to foot; half frozen, and faint from loss of blood--the hope of liberty roused him to new exertion. With some effort, he got at the holster of his pistol; in which was a flask of strong brandy and water which, though icy cold, had yet a sensibly warming influence. The lights were still at some distance off; and Ralph, after considerable trouble, and after cutting the straps which fastened it to the saddle, succeeded in getting at his fur overcoat. This he put on, picked up the cap of one of the German troopers who had fallen near, and then walked slowly away, over the deserted battle ground.

Ten minutes later, he heard a horse's hoofs upon the hard ground. He cocked the pistol--which had remained fastened to his belt, when he fell--pulled forward the German soldier's cap, and walked quietly on.

"Who goes there?" shouted a voice, and two German officers rode up.

It was far too dark, now, to distinguish faces.

"Karl Zimmerman, of the Seventh Dragoons," Ralph said, in German, saluting.

"What are you doing here?"

"I am servant to Lieutenant Falchen, who fell today; and I had been to look for his body. It was somewhere about here, when we charged the gray Zouaves."

"But your regiment is miles off," one of the officers said. "I saw them an hour ago."

"I don't know where they are, sir," Ralph said, "for I had my head laid open, with a sword bayonet, just as I was cutting down the man I had seen shoot my master. I was carried to the rear, but the surgeon had gone on; and my wound stopped of itself and, when I reached the hospital, the doctors were so busy that I asked leave to go, and see if I could find my master."

"Where are the ambulances now?" one of the officers asked, as they turned to ride off.

"Over in that direction. Look, sir, there are some of the searchers, with lanterns. They will direct you, at once."

"Thanks," the officer said, riding off; "good luck in your search."

Ralph had noticed a cottage, standing by itself at the edge of a wood, at some little distance from the bivouac of the night of the 30th of November; and had stopped for a moment, and asked a few questions of the woman who lived there. She had appeared a kind-hearted woman, full of hatred for the invader; and had two sons in the Mobiles, who had marched north when Paris was first threatened, and who were now besieged there. For this cottage Ralph determined to make, in order--if the owners would receive him--to take shelter in the house; otherwise, to find a refuge in the wood, itself, where he doubted not that they would assist him to lie hid for a few days. He had no great fear of a very active search being made for fugitives, at present, as the Prussians had only driven back two divisions of the French army; and had, Ralph believed, plenty of work on their hands, for some time.

It was fortunate for Ralph that he had studied the ground so carefully; for he soon came upon the road, and the stars--which were shining brightly--gave him his direction and bearings. The battle had extended over the whole of this ground. Many times Ralph could hear groans; and saw, in places, dark forms thickly scattered over the ground--showing where a stand had been made, or where a regiment had lain exposed, for hours, to an artillery fire.

The distance was considerable to the place Ralph had marked out for himself. Eight miles, at least, he thought; for it was away behind what had, two days before, been Chanzy's left. It was, in Ralph's state of feebleness, a very long journey. Over and over again, he had to sit down and rest. He did not feel the cold, now; the fur coat, and the exertion of walking, kept his body in a glow. He took great pains, however, not to exert himself, so as to make himself too hot; as he feared that his wound might break out, if he did so. He was fully twelve hours upon the road; and daylight was just breaking in the east when--exhausted by hunger, fatigue, and loss of blood--he crawled up to the door, and knocked.

There was a movement inside, but it was not until he had knocked twice that a voice within asked:

"Who is there?"

"A wounded officer," Ralph said.

There was a whispered talk, inside.

"Let me in, my friends," he said, "for the remembrance of your boys in Paris. There is no danger to you in doing so as, if the Germans come, you have only to say you have a wounded officer. I can pay you well."

"We don't care for pay," the woman of the house said; opening the door, with a candle in her hand--and then falling back, with a cry of horror, at the object before her: a man, tottering with fatigue, and with his face a perfect mask of stiffened blood.

"You do not remember me," Ralph said. "I am the captain of the staff who chatted to you, two days ago, about your boys in Paris."

"Poor boy!" the woman said, compassionately. "Come in.

"Monsieur will pardon me," she went on, apologetically, "for speaking so, but I called you the boy captain, when I was telling my good man what a bright--

"But there, what you want now is rest, and food. The question is where to put you. We may be searched, at any time; though it's not likely that we shall be, for a few days. The battle has gone away in the direction of Orleans, and we have not seen half a dozen men since I saw you, two days ago.

"The first thing is to give you something warm. You are half frozen. Sit down for a few minutes. I will soon make a blaze."

Ralph sank down--utterly exhausted and worn out--in the settle by the fireplace; and fell into a half doze, while the woman lit a bright fire on the hearth. In a few minutes she had drawn some liquor from the pot-au-feu--the soup pot--which stands by the fireside of every French peasant, however poor; and into which all the odds and ends of the household are thrown. This liquor she put into a smaller pot; broke some bread into it, added an onion--which she chopped up while it was warming--together with a little pepper and salt and, in ten minutes from the time of Ralph's entry, she placed a bowl of this mixture, smoking hot, before him.

At first, he seemed too exhausted to eat; but gradually his appetite returned, and he finished off the hot broth.

"What shall I do to your wound, sir?" the woman said. "It is a terrible sight, at present."

"It is the cold which saved my life, I fancy," Ralph said, "by stopping the bleeding; but now it wants bathing in warm water, for some time, and then bandaging.

"But where are you going to put me?"

"In the boys' room, upstairs, sir. It is just as they left it."

"I have no doubt it is very comfortable," Ralph said, "but all this country is certain to be scoured, by the enemy's cavalry. I do not want to be taken prisoner; and rather than that I would go and live out in the woods, and only crawl here, once a day, for some food."

The husband had now come downstairs and, as he aided his wife to first bathe and then bandage the wound, they talked over the matter; and agreed that Ralph could be hid in a loft over a shed, a hundred yards from the house, and very much concealed in the woods, without much fear of discovery. The farmer at once started to make the place as comfortable as he could; and the wife followed with a couple of blankets, a quarter of an hour later.

Ralph, by this time, could scarcely crawl along. The fever consequent upon the wound, the fatigue, and the cold made his head throb so terribly that he could scarcely hold it up and, had it not been for the assistance of the farmer's wife, he could not have crawled across the short distance to the shed. The loft was low and small and, when the wooden shutter of the window--or rather opening, for it was unglazed--was closed, it was lighted only by the light which came in at the crevices. The shed was altogether of wood; so that the shutter--which happened to be at its back--would scarcely have been noticed while, from the shed being high and the loft very low, anyone inside would scarcely have suspected the existence of any loft, at all. It was reached by a ladder and trap door.

The farmer assisted Ralph up the ladder. The shutter was open, and Ralph saw that the farmer had made a bed of straw, upon which his wife was spreading one of the blankets. Ralph now took off his uniform, and lay down; and was covered first by the other blanket, and then with his own fur-lined coat. The farmer's wife had thoughtfully brought a pillow with her; and Ralph in a few minutes was lying in what--had it not been for the pain of his wound--would have been intense comfort, after the cold and fatigue. His hostess went away, and returned with a large jug of water and a glass, which she put down within reach of his arm.

"There is nothing else you want?" she asked.

"Nothing, thank you, except to sleep," Ralph said.

"I shall shut this shutter," the farmer said. "Enough light will come through the cracks to see well, when your eyes get accustomed to the darkness. I shall shut the trap close down after me, as I go, and lift down the ladder. It is very light, and my wife can easily put it into its place again. We will come and see you again, in the afternoon. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Ralph answered, faintly; and before the sound of their footsteps had died away, he fell into a sort of feverish doze.

For a time he turned uneasily, muttered incoherent words, and moved his hands restlessly. Soon, however, the effects of the cloth soaked in icy-cold water, which the farmer's wife had placed on the bandages over the wound, began to subdue the feverish heat; and in half an hour he was sleeping soundly, and quietly. He woke at last, with a flash of light in his face and, opening his eyes, saw the good woman again bending over him.

"I am glad," were her first words. "I thought, for a moment, you were dead."

"No, no," Ralph said, with a faint smile; "a long way from that, yet. My sleep has done me a world of good. What o'clock is it?"

"Nine o'clock," his hostess said. "I could not come before, for I have had several parties going past, and the house was searched once. I kept on wondering whether you wanted me, until I nearly worked myself into a fever."

"Thank you," Ralph said. "I have been all the better for being allowed to sleep on. I have had nearly thirteen hours of it. I feel queer, about the head; but otherwise I feel all right.

"I am terribly thirsty."

"I have got nothing but water to offer you," the woman said. "The Germans drank the last drop of our wine up, months ago. But I had a few apples; and I have roasted them, and put them in this jug of water. It will give it a taste, and is good for fever.

"In this jug is some herb tea, which you must drink when you feel feverish.

"And now, do you feel as if you could eat some broth?"

"That I do," Ralph said.

His hostess put her arm under him, and raised him up into a sitting posture; in which she retained him by kneeling down beside him, and holding him up as if he had been a child. Then she gave him a basin of bread broth, and a drink of water; shook up his pillow, arranged the things over him; and put a fresh cloth, dipped in water, on his head.

"Here is a box of matches," she said, "and here is the water and herb tea, in reach of your arm. You're not cold, are you?"

"No, thank you," Ralph said, "and in spite of the sleep I have had, I feel as if I could go off again till morning, comfortably."

"Be patient, if I am late," the woman said. "I will come as soon as I can. If I am late, you will know that there are Germans about."

Ralph's idea of his capacity for sleep turned out correct. It was still dark when he woke but, striking a match, he found that it was nearly seven o'clock. He at once blew out the match, felt for the apple water, took a drink, and then nestled down deep into the fur coat.

"It will be getting light in another hour," he said to himself. "It's awfully cold, too; but I am better off, here, than I should be in the field. I hope she will be here soon; I want to know if she has any news. Well, there is only an hour to lay awake," and, almost as he murmured the words, Ralph dropped off again, and slept until ten o'clock.

This time, he woke with the slight creaking which the trap door made.

"How are you today, Monsieur le Capitaine?" his hostess said.

"I am getting on capitally, thanks to your care," Ralph said. "And what have you there?"

"Your breakfast and some plaster. My husband started, yesterday evening, to walk to the doctor, who lives twelve miles off. He told him all about you; but the doctor would not come, himself. However, he sent word that the wound was to be washed well, twice a day, with warm water; and that a little lint is to be laid in it each time, after the bathing and, when the inflammation ceases to look angry, I am to draw the edges together as closely as I can, and strap them together with these strips of plaster."

"It is very kind of your husband," Ralph said, "very kind. Did the doctor say how long I should be, before I could be about again?"

"No," the woman said. "Jacques asked him, but he said that he could not say without seeing the wound, and examining you. Jacques described its position: coming down from the back of the head, taking off just a little bit of the top of the ear, and then ending on the cheekbone. He said that Monsieur le Capitaine must have a head as thick as a wall, or it would have killed him."

Ralph smiled, and his hostess set to work to carry out her instructions.

"Shall I take away your uniform and hide it away so that, in case the enemy search and find you, they will have no proof against you?"

"No, no," Ralph said; "the uniform shows I am not a franc tireur; and so will prevent my being hung, and you having your house burnt over your head. Besides which, I should be entitled to be treated as an officer. My uniform is the best protection for us all.

"Have you any news of what is going on?"

"We heard firing yesterday," the woman said, "and today we can hear a constant booming, from the direction of Orleans."

Ralph listened, but the bandage prevented his hearing anything.

"You are very kind," he said, "but you can hardly think how I want to be off. However, I fear that I am here for a week, at the very least. Just think what I am missing."

"It seems to me," the woman said, "you are missing a great many chances of being killed; which I should consider to be a very fortunate miss, indeed. I should not like Jacques to have that gash on the head; but I would a great deal rather that he was lying here wounded, just as you are, than to know that he was in the middle of all that fighting at Orleans.

"Be patient, my friend. We will do our best for you. If you have no fever, tomorrow, Jacques will try and buy some meat and some wine for you, at one of the villages; and then you will soon get quite strong."

When Ralph had eaten his breakfast, he again laid down; and his kind hostess left him, as her husband was obliged to be out and at work, and it was necessary that she should be at home, to answer any straggling troops of the enemy who might pass.

"I wish I had Tim with me," Ralph said, to himself. "Tim would amuse me, and make me laugh. It would be desperately cold for him. I am all right, under my blanket and this warm coat. Well, I suppose I must try to sleep as many hours away as I can." _

Read next: Chapter 20. Crossing The Lines

Read previous: Chapter 18. A Day Of Victory

Table of content of Young Franc Tireurs: And Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book