Читать книгу A Pageant of Victory - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 20

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Five hundred strong marched they, by Indian trails deeptrodden in the wild, picked men of the Ranger Corps and veterans all, because their mission was hazardous and very desperate. And they sang, they laughed and talked as they marched, for their courage was high; only the man they followed was mute, this lonely man who had proved his wise leadership often of late, for there had been much fighting, and won their faith and respect by his indomitable will and cold, passionless valour.

Thus of his chosen Five Hundred only Anthony was silent, thinking of and yearning for his home, his brave, gentle wife and the child he might never live to see.

Now as he went with his long, tireless stride, brooding unhappily thus, Francis Wilding came beside him and heeding his troubled look, questioned him softly:

"Does anything trouble you, Anthony? Is aught amiss?"

"Many things, Frank, and mostly--this war. Also I'm afraid, damnably afraid!"

"Eh--you, Anthony? Of what?"

"Death, man!"

"Well but you have outfaced it often enough o' late, God knows."

"Ay, but life might be so wonderful, Frank! There is such happiness waiting me that may be snatched from me by any chance bullet.... Frank, we never go into action but I'm cold with dread. There was a time I had no care or fear of dying but ... since then I have found such deep content that life is become so very precious I dread to lose it. Happiness has turned me craven ... a poltroon...." Francis clasped an arm about his cousin's drooping shoulders.

"And here," said he, laughing, "here is the man whose cool courage and stark audacity is a byword, indeed sometimes I think you are positively foolhardy."

"Perhaps because I so dread to die, Francis."

"Then would to God such dread might inspire us all--though, b'Gad, 'twould but mean even harder service. ... For here's the reason Washington chose you for this particularly ugly business,--to cut off a convoy double our strength and with dragoons and infantry of the line, seems asking the impossible--even of us."

"Choice of ground, Frank, and surprise is our only chance. Well, I know the ground and my plans are made, but it will be an ugly business sure enough and must mean ... some loss."

Here they strode on pensively awhile, but suddenly taking his cousin's arm, Anthony spoke softer than ever.

"You've heard tell how that some men have a premonition of approaching death, well, I have sometimes felt that I shall not make old bones and ... so, Frank, I've a message--"

"Yes, old fellow?" But instead of answering at once, Anthony glanced up and around him with a strange, yearning gaze.

"Such waste of time and life!" he muttered bitterly. "All this marching and fighting when I might have been, with my Blodwen ... my message is to her, Frank, and, I've never told you, but she is ... a mother by now! And ... not to know how she is ... all these cursed leagues of forest between us! An hour or less, Frank, and we shall be in action, and if it should happen. ... if this should be my last fight, you ... will find a letter for her stitched in the lining of my shirt ... here, Frank, it must reach her somehow."

"It shall, Anthony, it shall, I vow. But oh, damme, you've borne a charmed life thus far--"

"And I'm thankful, Frank, ay, God knows it! However, if to-day be my last, should you ever see my wife, pray tell how I ... spoke of her. Say also that if ... if our child is a boy I would have her name him after me, and if a girl--oh God to think of it--she must be christened Blodwen.... And yonder comes Sergeant Tutt to warn us we are near the road, I guess. Order silence in the ranks, cousin."

At word of command the cheery talk and singing died away and all voices were hushed till no sound was there to hear but the muffled padding of those so purposeful, moccasined feet.

"Cunnle," quoth Sergeant Septimus Tutt, saluting, "yonder, ayont they thickets scarce a rifle shot, lays the road and, afore us three mile, the ford. An' no place couldn't be better for it, I reckon."

"This is why I chose it, Sep. The road thereabout runs between high banks thick with tree and brush, eh, Sergeant?"

"Shore do, sir, and wot's more, it narrers."

"Well, that is the place. Captain Wilding, halt the company and summon here every officer."

Silently they came to group themselves about Anthony who, seating himself upon a fallen tree, unsheathed his long hunting-knife and beckoning them close around him, drew a rough diagram on the hard-packed earth of the trail before him.

"Major Dunstan and gentlemen," said he, "our duty, as you know, is to intercept supplies and a battery of heavy guns intended for General Burgoyne's army. This convoy is strongly guarded by a troop of dragoons and infantry of the line. My orders are to destroy these stores or, if possible, bring them off for the comfort of our own armies, and I propose to attempt this at a place called Dana's Crossing, which is a ford some three miles in our front. See now--here is the road between high banks thick with brush and backed by the forest, here the river and the ford. I with two hundred men shall post myself in ambush on this side the road. You, Major Dunstan, with another two hundred, will occupy the opposite side. Captain Clemmons, you with fifty men, will take post here to the south of Major Dunstan's position. You, Captain Wilding, will lie to the north of me. Thus, gentlemen, we shall enfilade them front, flanks and rear. I trust this meets with your approval, sirs."

"It cannot fail!" cried Captain Clemmons, eagerly.

"Unless they march with flanking parties," said the Major, "how then, sir?"

"Why then," sighed Anthony, "our task will be the harder. But frankly I can scheme no better plan."

"Nor I, sir," quoth the Major.

"So, gentlemen, we can but hope--and fight our best. I need scarce impress on you all, sirs, the necessity for absolute silence. And now pray number off your companies and let us advance on our several positions."

Thud and scuffle of cautious feet as the one company became four, and the four marched away to take up their appointed stations.

Prone with his men Anthony looked through a screen of leafage down into this narrow, sunken road bright with the genial sun, with steep, green banks where flowers grew, a pleasant, quiet place soon to be made a horror of blood and pain and slaughter; and looking from this peaceful spot to the placid river and the vista of serene, blue heaven beyond, Anthony sighed again and closed his eyes.

"By heck, they'm a comin'!" whispered Sergeant Tutt fiercely, propping himself on an elbow beside Anthony. "D'ye hear 'em, sir, d'ye hear 'em?"

"Yes ... yes, I hear."

"Jee-rusalem! But ye couldn't of chose a better place, Mist' Anthony. Think jest what our first volley'll do to 'em!"

"I am thinking, Sep. It will be very like cold murder!"

"There wun't be many o' they red-coats, them bloody-backs, win out o' this yer, I'll lay. Easier nor shootin' pigeons. Though as for these yer bay'nets, sir, I don't--"

"Be silent, man--listen!"

A faint murmur growing louder to a hum ... a confused medley of sound; a far, rolling dust-cloud rising against the placid heaven, growing thicker, denser and in this rolling cloud, jingle of harness, thud of horsehoofs, trampling of men, creak and rattle of heavy wheels.

The rolling dust-cloud drew nearer until in it could be seen the tossing crests of plodding horses, the plumed heads of their riders, and beyond these, the white belts and crossbelts of the redcoated infantry, and beyond these again, the long train of guns, limbers, and heavy-laden, lumbering transport waggons.... This much Anthony had glimpsed when rose sudden clamour with the booming discharge of muskets answered by a crashing volley of rifle-fire.

Anthony started to his knees; the sergeant cursed bitterly.

"Their skirmishers ha' seen us, sir! What now?" he cried.

"Wait!" said Anthony.

Shouts and hoarse commands from the crowded road; the dragoons came on at furious gallop. Then Anthony raised his hand; a trumpet blared, and, down from the banks of this sunken road, death roared; horses reared and went down kicking; men screamed and fell to be trampled and all was wild confusion.

Now all at once the rifle slipped from Anthony's grip and he stared with horrified eyes, for there, amid all this red havoc, rode the Earl of Wrybourne. His face was streaked with blood, but his sword glittered aloft and, resolute as ever, he called on his own troop of gentlemen volunteers. And gallantly they responded, spurring their chargers at these precipitous slopes, striving desperately to come at their unseen slayers, with their sabres. But hemmed in on every side, smitten through and through by raking, deadly rifle fire, this splendid troop, for all its valour, was helpless, horses and men went down in bloody, tangled heaps....

"Grenadiers ... stand! Soldiers o' the Guard rally on me!" Through swirling dust and smoke Anthony caught a glimpse of his cousin, Lord Charles, leading his redcoats to attempt these deadly slopes; clambering on and over the dead, up they came only to be met and hurled back by goring bayonet or clubbed rifle-butt....

Dust and smoke and furious uproar gradually subsiding, groans and wailing of stricken men and wounded horses, for the ghastly business was done at last and the Rangers, such as remained, were cheering and loudest, fiercest of all, Sergeant Septimus Tutt.

But stumbling down into this place of slaughter went Anthony, his pitiful eyes questing dreadfully among these ghastly twisted shapes until he paused at last, his anxious search ended, for he was gazing at a still form that, so short a time ago, had been his friend and cousin, Francis Wilding ... this handsome face now frightfully marred by the sabre that had cut him down; close by sprawled a dead Indian and, between these two, mingling his proud blood with theirs, lay George Charteris, Earl of Wrybourne, his dying body propped against his dead charger.

Now looking up into Anthony's eyes, the Earl smiled and beckoned feebly.

"I'm passing, nephew Anthony," he gasped, "dying for my England and ... King, so I nothing ... repine. Nay, Death shows me a ... vision of Truth. See you ... here lie my enemies ... an Indian brave and ... a rebel officer blending their ... life-blood with mine in ... one pool. 'Tis the blood of the ... new America and it is ... a noble blood ... shall achieve greatly. So ... now--"

The gasping voice failed, the fumbling hand reached down to this awful pool and dipping finger therein, my lord crossed himself upon the brow; then leaning back against his dead horse, he sighed deeply, and so the indomitable soul of him passed.

While Anthony yet stood there awed and grieving, he heard a fierce, inarticulate cry and glancing vaguely round about, saw his cousin Charles wounded and prisoner and with him the Marquis de Vaucelles.

"Dead!" cried Charles, wildly. "My father ...! And you, Anthony ... ha, God's curse on you ... this is your doing!"

"No, Charles, this is--war!"

"You led these damned rebels ... and so is my father dead ... and so for this I swear to kill you someday ... if I live ...!"

"And if not, my Charles, my old one," said the Marquis, "I also make oath,--this shall be my duty if it is that I am not also dead. To achieve such vengeance shall be my joy and honour."

"Hey, what's here?" roared a fierce voice, and in thrust the mighty Sergeant Tutt, elbowing the prisoners aside, "Do these yer bloody-backs dare to threat ye, Cunnle? Shall we string 'em up, sir? Shall we shoot a few on 'em to teach and larn 'em? Say the word, Cunnle--" Anthony looked at him and the tall sergeant saluted and was dumb; then turning on these two captives:

"Cousin Charles," said he, "I dare to say I grieve for this as deeply, as sincerely as ever you can.... If we should live to meet when this hateful war is over and done, I hope ... pray ... that it may be at the least without rancour ... Monsieur le Marquis, you should be sufficiently a soldier to free me of all and any responsibility for any man's death in such close and desperate an action as this hath been.... And now, gentlemen, you are free to go, I cannot be burdened with you.... Sergeant, where is Major Dunstan?"

"Lays dead over yonder, Cunnle."

"So is poor Stockley!" cried young Captain Clemmons, limping forward to salute, "Ay and half my company, sir, and my young brother--"

"Are you fit for duty, sir?" Anthony demanded harshly.

"Yes, Colonel ... this is only a flesh-wound ... but oh God, my brother John is--"

"Captain Clemmons, muster our company ... disarm all prisoners ... set them digging graves--go! Sergeant Tutt, come you with me, this convoy must be on the move for General Washington's head-quarters before dark,--come!"

So, when the moon rose, this sunken road lay deserted and very silent, with nothing to show what had been, the fury of valiant effort and pain of dying, except a broken weapon here and there, a shapeless huddle of dead horses, dark pools and splotches that stained white dust and trampled grass, soaking into the thirsty ground soon to be forgotten; and the long mound of new-turned earth that hid the shattered clay of those who, dying so manfully in their duty, had risen above death together in a great, new fellowship.