Читать книгу The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War - G. A. Henty - Страница 7

"Now, good night, boys."

"Vive les franc tireurs du Dijon!"

"Vive la France!" and, with a cheer, the men separated.

The next morning the corps met, and were divided into companies. The division was alphabetical, and the young Barclays and Duburgs were all in the first company. This was a matter of great pleasure to them, as they had been afraid that they might have been separated.

The following day, drill began in earnest and, accustomed as the boys were to exercise, they found seven hours a day hard work of it. Still, they felt it very much less than many of the young men who, for years, had done little but lounge in cafes, or stroll at the promenade. All, however, stuck to their work and, as their hearts were in it, it was surprising how quickly they picked up the rudiments of drill. Fortunately, they were not required to learn anything beyond the management of their firearms, the simplest movements, and the duty of skirmishers; as all complicated maneuvers would have been useless, in a small corps whose duties would be confined entirely to skirmishing.

With this branch of their work, Captain Tempe was determined that they should be thoroughly acquainted, and they were taught how to use cover of all kinds with advantage; how to defend a building, crenelate a wall, fell trees to form an obstacle across roads, or a breastwork in front of them; and how to throw themselves into square, rapidly, to repel cavalry.

Captain Barclay was indefatigable as a musketry instructor and, with the aid of a few friends, got up a subscription which was spent in a number of small prizes, so as to give the men as much interest as possible in their work. Captain Tempe impressed most strenuously, upon the men, the extreme importance of proficiency in shooting; as it was upon the accuracy and deadliness of their fire that they would have to rely, to enable them to contend with superior forces in the combats they would have to go through; and each man would probably have frequently to depend, for his life, upon the accuracy of his fire.

The original plan--of instructing a third of the men, each week, in musketry--was abandoned; and the parties were changed each day, in order to enable all to advance at an equal rate. Besides, their ammunition was supplied; so that those who chose to do so could practice shooting, for their own amusement, between their morning and afternoon drill.

The Barclays were constant in their attendance at the shooting ground; and the steady hand and eye which cricket, fencing, and other exercises had given them now stood them in good stead for, by the end of the time, they became as good marksmen as any in the corps. They still lived at home, as did all those members of the corps whose residences were in and around Dijon. For those who lived too far away to come in and out every day to drill, a large empty barn was taken, and fitted up as a temporary barracks.

The time did not pass away without great excitement for, as the end of August drew on, everyone was watching, in deep anxiety, for the news of a battle near Chalons--where MacMahon had been organizing a fresh army. Then came the news that the camp at Chalons was broken up, and that MacMahon was marching to the relief of Bazaine. Two or three days of anxious expectation followed; and then--on the 3rd of September--came the news, through Switzerland, of the utter defeat and surrender of the French army, at Sedan.

At first, the news seemed too terrible to be true. People seemed stunned at the thought of a hundred thousand Frenchmen laying down their arms. Two days later came the news of the revolution in Paris. This excited various emotions among the people; but the prevailing idea seemed to be that--now there was a republic--past disasters would be retrieved.

"What do you think of the news, papa?" the boys asked as, drill over, they hurried up to talk the matter over with their father.

"With any other people, I should consider it to be the most unfortunate event which could have possibly occurred," Captain Barclay said. "A change of Government--involving a change of officials throughout all the departments, and a perfect upset of the whole machinery of organization--appears little short of insanity. At the same time, it is possible that it may arouse such a burst of national enthusiasm that the resistance which, as far as the civil population is concerned, has as yet been contemptible--in fact, has not been attempted at all--may become of so obstinate and desperate a character that the Prussians may be fairly wearied out.

"There is scarcely any hope of future victories in the field. Raw levies, however plucky, can be no match for such troops as the Prussians, in the open. The only hope is in masses of franc tireurs upon the rear and flanks of the enemy. Every bridge, every wood, every village should be defended to the death. In this way the Prussians would only hold the ground they stand on; and it would be absolutely impossible for them to feed their immense armies, or to bring up their siege materiel against Paris.

"The spirit to do this may possibly be excited by the revolution; otherwise, France is lost. Success alone can excuse it; for a more senseless, more unjustifiable, more shameful revolution was, in my mind, never made. It has been effected purely by the Radicals and roughs of Paris--the men who have, for years, been advocating a war with Prussia; and who, a month ago, were screaming 'To Berlin.' For these men to turn round upon the Emperor in his misfortune and, without consulting the rest of France, to effect a revolution, is in my mind simply infamous.

"Even regarded as a matter of policy, it is bad in the extreme. Austria, Italy, and Russia--to say nothing of England--would, sooner or later, have interfered in favor of an established empire; but their sympathies will be chilled by this revolution. The democratic party in all these countries may exult, but the extreme democratic party do not hold the reins of power anywhere; and their monarchs will certainly not feel called upon to assist to establish a republic.

"Prussia herself--intensely aristocratic in her institutions--will probably refuse to treat, altogether, with the schemers who have seized the power; for the King of Prussia is perhaps the greatest hater of democracy in Europe.

"Still, boys, these changes make no difference in your duty. You are fighting for France, not for an empire or a republic and, as long as France resists, it is your duty to continue. In fact, it is now more than ever the duty of you, and of every Frenchman, to fight. Her army is entirely gone; and it is simply upon the pluck and energy of her population that she has to trust."

"Do you think Paris will hold out, papa?"

"She is sure to do so, boys. She has made the revolution, and she is bound to defend it. I know Paris well. The fortifications are far too strong to be taken by a sudden attack, and it will be a long time before the Prussians can bring up a siege train. Paris will only be starved out and, if her people are only half as brave as they are turbulent, they ought to render it impossible for the Prussians to blockade such an immense circle. At any rate, France has two months; perhaps much longer, but two months ought to be quite enough, if her people have but spirit to surround the enemy, to cut off his supplies, and to force him to retreat."

The next morning, when the corps assembled for drill, Captain Tempe addressed them on the subject of the events in Paris. He told them that, whether they approved or disapproved of what had taken place there, their duty as Frenchmen was plain. For the present they were not politicians, but patriots; and he hoped that not a word of politics would be spoken in the corps, but that everyone would give his whole thought, his whole strength and, if must be, his life in the cause of France.

His address was greatly applauded, and gave immense satisfaction to the men; for already differences of opinion were becoming manifest among them. Some had exulted loudly at the downfall of Napoleon; others had said little, but their gloomy looks had testified sufficiently what were their opinions; while many among the gentlemen in the corps, especially those belonging to old families, were well known to be attached either to a Legitimist or Orleanist Prince. The proposal, therefore, that no politics should be discussed during the war, but that all should remember only that they were fighting for France, gave great satisfaction; and promised a continuance of the good fellowship which had hitherto reigned in the corps.

It was a great day when, a fortnight from its first organization, the corps turned out for the first time in their uniforms. The band of the national guard headed them, as they marched down the high street of Dijon to the parade ground; and--as the spectators cheered, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the whole corps joined in cheers, to the stirring notes of the Marseillaise--the young Barclays felt their cheeks flush, their hands tighten upon their rifles, and their hearts beat with a fierce longing to be face to face with the hated Prussians.

A day or two after this, the Snider rifles ordered from England by Captain Barclay arrived; and although the men at first preferred the chassepots, with which they were familiar, they were soon accustomed to the new weapons; and readily acknowledged the advantage which--as their commander pointed out to them--the dark-brown barrels possessed, for skirmishers, over the bright barrels of the chassepots which, with the sun shining upon them, would betray them to an enemy miles away.

A day or two afterwards, as Ralph and Percy were returning in the evening from drill, they heard a great tumult in the streets. They hurried forward to see what was the matter, and found an excited crowd shouting and gesticulating.

"Death to the spy!"

"Death to the spy!"

"Hang him!"

"Kill the dog!" were the shouts, and two gendarmes in the center of the crowd were vainly trying to protect a man who was walking between them. He was a tall, powerful-looking man; but it was impossible to see what he was like, for the blood was streaming down his forehead, from a blow he had just received.

Just as the boys came up, another blow from a stick fell on his head; and this served to rouse him to desperation, for he turned round, with one blow knocked down the fellow who had struck him, and then commenced a furious attack upon his persecutors. For a moment they drew back, and then closed upon him again. Blows from sticks and hands rained upon him, but he struggled desperately. At last, overwhelmed by numbers, he fell; and as he did so he raised a wild shout, "Hurroo for ould Ireland."

"He is an Englishman, Percy," Ralph exclaimed; "he is not a Prussian, at all. Come on!

"Here, Louis, Philippe, help; they are killing an Englishman."

Followed by their cousins--who had just arrived at the spot--the boys made a rush through the crowd; and arrived in another moment by the prostrate man, whom his assailants were kicking savagely. The rush of the four boys--aided by the butt-end of their rifles, which they used freely on the ribs of those who stood in their way--cleared off the assailants for an instant; and the two gendarmes--who had been hustled away--drawing their swords, again took their place by the side of their insensible prisoner.

The mob had only recoiled for a moment; and now, furious at being baulked of their expected prey, prepared to rush upon his defenders; shouting, as they did so:

"Death to the spy!"

The moment's delay had, however, given time to the boys to fix bayonets.

"Keep off," Ralph shouted, "or we run you through! The man is not a spy, I tell you. He is an Englishman."

The noise was too great for the words to be heard and, with cries of "Death to the spy!" the men in front prepared for a rush. The leveled bayonets and drawn swords, however, for a moment checked their ardor; but those behind kept up the cry, and a serious conflict would have ensued, had not a party of five or six of the franc tireurs come along at the moment.

These--seeing their comrades standing with leveled bayonets, keeping the mob at bay--without asking any questions, at once burst their way through to their side; distributing blows right and left, heartily, with the butt-end of their rifles. This reinforcement put an end to the threatened conflict; and the gendarmes, aided by two of the franc tireurs, lifted the insensible man and carried him to the Maine; the rest of the franc tireurs marching on either side as a guard, and the yelling crowd following them.

Once inside the Maine the gates were shut and--the supposed spy being laid down on the bench--cold water was dashed in his face; and in a few minutes he opened his eyes.

"The murdering villains!" he muttered to himself. "They've kilt me entirely, bad luck to them! A hundred to one, the cowardly blackguards!

"Where am I?" and he made an effort to rise.

"You're all right," Ralph said. "You're with friends. Don't be afraid, you're safe now."

"Jabers!" exclaimed the Irishman in astonishment, sitting up and looking round him, "here's a little French soldier, speaking as illegant English as I do, meself."

"I'm English," laughed Ralph, "and lucky it was for you that we came along. We heard you call out, just as you fell; and got in in time, with the help of our friends, to save your life. Another minute or two, and we should have been too late."

"God bless your honor!" the man--who had now thoroughly recovered himself--said earnestly. "And it was a tight shave, entirely. You've saved Tim Doyle's life; and your honor shall see that he's not ungrateful. Whenever you want a lad with a strong arm and a thick stick, Tim's the boy."

"Thank you, Tim," Ralph said, heartily. "Now you had better let the surgeon look at your head. You have got some nasty cuts."

"Sure, and my head's all right, your honor It isn't a tap from a Frenchman that would break the skull of Tim Doyle."

The gendarmes now intimated that, as the prisoner was restored, he must go in at once before the Maire. The young Barclays accompanied him, and acted as interpreters at the examination. The story was a simple one, and the passport and other papers upon the Irishman proved its truth conclusively.

Tim was an Irishman, who had come out as groom with an English gentleman. His master had fallen ill at Lyons, had parted with his horses and carriage, and returned to England. Tim had accepted the offer of the horse dealer who had purchased the horses to remain in his service, and had been with him six months when the war broke out. He had picked up a little French, but had been several times arrested in Lyons, as a spy; and his master had at last told him that it was not safe for him to remain, and that he had better return to England.

He had reached Dijon on that morning; but the train, instead of going on, had been stopped, as large numbers of Mobiles were leaving for Paris, and the ordinary traffic was suspended. Tim had therefore passed the day strolling about Dijon. The hour had approached at which he had been told that a train might leave, and Tim had asked a passer by the way to the station.

His broken French at once aroused suspicion. A crowd collected in a few minutes; and Tim was, in the first place, saved from being attacked by the arrival of two gendarmes upon the scene. He had at once told them that he was English, and had produced his passport; and they had decided upon taking him to the Maire, for the examination of his papers--but on the way the crowd, increased by fresh arrivals, had determined to take the law into their own hands; and only the arrival of the young Barclays, and their cousins, had saved his life.

The Maire saw at once, upon examination of the papers, that the story was correct; and pronounced that Tim was at liberty to go where he pleased. The poor fellow, however--though he made light of his wounds and bruises--was much shaken; and it would, moreover, have been dangerous for him to venture again into the streets of Dijon. Ralph therefore at once offered to take him out, and to give him a night's shelter; an offer which the Irishman accepted, with many thanks.

It was now getting dark and, accompanied by their cousins, the Barclays were let out with Tim Doyle from a back entrance to the Maine; and made their way unnoticed through the town; and arrived, half an hour later, at home. Captain and Mrs. Barclay, upon hearing the story, cordially approved of what the boys had done; and Captain Barclay having--in spite of Tim's earnest remonstrance that it was of no consequence in the world--put some wet rags upon the most serious of the wounds, bandaged up his head, and sent him at once to bed.

In the morning, when the lads started for drill, the Irishman was still in bed; but when they returned to dinner, they found him working in the garden, as vigorously as if the events of the previous day had been a mere dream. When he saw them coming, he stuck his spade into the ground and went forward to meet them.

"God bless your honors, but I'm glad to see you again; and to thank you for saving my life, which them bastes had made up their minds they were going to have. I ain't good at talking, your honors; but if it's the last drop of my blood that would be of any use to you, you'd be heartily welcome to it."

"I am very glad we arrived in time, Tim," Ralph said. "And it's lucky for you that you shouted 'Hurrah for old Ireland!' as you went down; for of course we had no idea you were a countryman and, although we were disgusted at the brutality of that cowardly mob, we could hardly have interfered between them and a German spy.

"What are you thinking of doing now? It will hardly be safe for you to travel through France while this madness about spies lasts for, with your broken French, you would be getting taken up continually."

"I'm not thinking of it at all, your honor," the Irishman said. "The master has been telling me that your honors are starting for the war, and so I've made up my mind that I shall go along wid ye."

The boys laughed.

"You are not in earnest, Tim?"

"As sure as the Gospels, your honor I've served five years in the Cork Militia, and wore the badge as a marksman; and so I mean to 'list, and go as your honors' sarvint."

"But you can't do that, Tim, even if we would let you," Ralph laughed. "There won't be any servants at all."

"Sure, your honor is mistaken, entirely," Tim said, gravely. "In the sarvice, a soldier is always told off as a sarvint for each officer."

"But we are not going as officers, Tim," Percy said. "We are going as simple soldiers."

"What! Going as privates?" Tim Doyle said, in astonishment. "Does your honor mane to say that you are going to shoulder a firelock, and just go as privates?"

"That's it, Tim. You see, this is not a regular regiment; it is a corps of irregulars, and more than half the privates are gentlemen."

"Holy Mother!" ejaculated Tim, in astonishment, "did one ever hear of the like?"

Then, after a pause:

"Then your honor will want a sarvint more than iver. Who is to clean your boots, and to pipeclay your belts; to wash your linen, to clean your firelock, and cook your dinners, and pitch your tent, if you don't have a sarvint? The thing's against nature, entirely."

"We shall do it all ourselves, Tim--that is to say, as far as cleaning the rifles, washing our linen, and cooking the dinner. As for the other things, I don't suppose we shall ever have our boots cleaned; we have no white belts to pipeclay, for they are made of buff leather; and we shall not have to pitch tents, for we don't take them with us, but shall, when necessary, sleep in the open air."

Tim was too surprised to speak, for a time. At last, he said doggedly:

"Sarvint or no sarvint, your honor, it is evident that it's rough times you're going to have; and Tim Doyle will be there with you, as sure as the piper."

"We should like you with us very much, Tim, if you make up your mind to go," Ralph said; "but the corps is quite full. We have refused dozens of recruits."

Tim looked downcast. At last he said:

"Well, your honor, it may be that they won't have me as a soldier; but I'll go sure enough, if I die for it. There's no law to punish a man for walking after a regiment of soldiers and, wherever your regiment goes, sure enough I'll tramp after ye. There's many an odd way I might make myself useful, and they'll soon get used to see me about, and let me come and go into the camp."

No persuasion could alter Tim's determination and, as they felt that having so attached a fellow near them might be of real utility, and comfort, when the boys went down in the afternoon they spoke to Captain Tempe about it. At first he said that it was impossible, as he had already refused so many offers of service; but upon hearing all the story, and thinking the matter over, he said suddenly:

"By the bye, there is a way by which he might go with us. You know I have ordered a light two-wheel cart, built very strong for the mountains, to carry our spare ammunition, powder for blowing up bridges, cooking pots, and stores. I have not engaged a driver as yet. If your Irishman--who you say understands horses--likes to go as a driver, to begin with, I will promise him the first vacant rifle. I fear that he will not have long to wait, after we once get near the enemy; and as he has already served, you say, he will be better than a new recruit, and we can get a countryman to take his place with the cart."

Upon their return in the evening with the news, Tim Doyle's joy knew no bound; and he whooped and shouted, till Milly laughed so that she had to beg of him to stop.

The next day, Tim went down with Captain Barclay and signed the engagement. He remained with the captain during the time that the latter was giving his instructions in musketry--entering upon his duties in connection with the corps by going down to the butts, and acting as marker--and then returned with him to the cottage; as it was agreed that he had better remain there, quietly, until the corps was ready to march--as, if he were to venture alone in the town, he might at any time be subject to a repetition of the attack upon the day of his arrival.

At the cottage he soon became a general favorite His desire to make himself useful in any way, his fund of fun and good temper, pleased everyone. Even Marie and Jeannette--the two servants, who could not understand a word of what he said--were in a constant broad grin, at the pantomime by which he endeavored to eke out his few words of French. Milly became quite attached to him; and Captain and Mrs. Barclay both felt cheered, and comforted, at the thought that this devoted fellow would be at hand to look after and assist the boys, in time of danger, suffering, or sickness.