An Outpost Adventure.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 914, 6 September 1889, Page 9

An Outpost Adventure.

Mr Archibald Forbes tells the following story in the Gentleman’s Magazine : One bright warm afternoon our friends the enemy brought forward a couple of batteries of field-guns, and from a position in front of the wood which crested their ridge opened fire against our camp. The range was a long one, but the Turks had Krupp guns, and their shells came lobbing across the valley and occasionally pitched among the tents. The Russians, who have a great propensity to the dolce far niente when the weather is warm, could not be bothered to reply to this fire for quite a while ; but at length, about four o’clock, I saw their gunners busy among the field guns that were ranged in position along the front cf the camp. Just then I met Baron Driesen, who told me that he had remained quiet thus long because of a little scheme he had adopted to surprise and perhaps to cut off the Turkish guns opposite us there. Some two hours earlier, when he first noticed the guns being brought up into position, he had sent off Holstein with the light cavalry regiment of his brigade—the ‘ Gray Hussars ’ we used to call them, from the colour of their horses —away to our right, with orders, if practicable, to cross the valley higher up out of sight of the Turks and, getting on the slope of their ridge, work northward through the clumps of trees till, if they had the luck to get so far, within charging distance of the left flank of the Turkish batteries, when the Russian troopers were to do their best to capture'the guns. I am an old cavalry man, and naturally always eager to be with the mounted arm on any duty assigned to it, and I rather mace a grievance of it to the Baron that he had not let me know of the dispatch of Holstein and his Grays, that I might have gone along with them. He was the best tempered man in the world. ‘ Why,’ said he, ‘ standing here, you’ve got the whole panorama under your eyes, and if they have the luck to get up and do anything you can see them work a great deal better, and, what is more, a great deal more safely, than if you were with them, blinded by dust and smoke.’ But, nevertheless, I was only half-content. The Russian guns opened presently, and then there was an hour or two of reprisals at long bowls, and nothing else. The Russians lost a horse or two, and one unfortunate fellow was cut in two back in the camp, but the futile powder-burning was getting very tedious. All at once, however, I noticed some horsemen showing little glimpses of themselves out of a long clump of trees a few hundred yards below and on the left of the Turkish batteries. ‘ Look, Baron !’ cried I, * there are Holstein's cavalry fellows, sure enough. They’ve worked round beautifully, quite artistically, and now they are gathering in that clump, getting ready for their dash at the guns. Driesen was not an enthusiastic man, and he rather drawled in his speech. ‘ You may be right,’ he said, ‘but I, for my part, have a shrewd suspicion these horsemen are Turkish Tcherkesses, prowling about the’-e just to cover that left flank of the batteries which I gave Holstein as his objective.’ ‘ Why,’ I exclaimed, ‘ look at the grey horses. There can be no mistake !’ * Mon Dieu !’ retorted the Baron, ’ can’t a Turkish Tcherkess ride a grey horse as well as a Russian hussar?’ ‘Well,’ said I, forDriesen’s apathy made me the more stubborn in my own opinion, ‘ I am positive they are our fellows; and I am going across the valley to watch closely how they make their rush.’ ‘ Don’t be a fool !’ said the Baron genially. Even if they are our fellows, you are much better here ; and if you cross, and they are not, why then ’ and he shrugged his broad shoulders. But I was obstinate ; Driesen was sufficiently conversant with our language to quote the proverb about ‘ a wilful man ;’ and so away I rode to the front out beyond the Russian guns, down the slope, and through the outpost line, crouching behind the corn-slooks about halfway down. I cantered briskly across the bottom of the valley, which I found to be a deeper trough than I had imagined ; and then at a slower pace began to ascend the slope of the Turkish ridge, heading for the clump of trees about which I had seen the horsemen. I had got nearly half-way up. I could hear the shrill scream of the shells speeding from ridge to ridge high over my head, as I plodded on upward, sitting well forward in my saddle, with a grip of my horse’s mane in one hand. Just as I entered a cornfield, crack, crack, whizz, whizz came a couple of bullets dose by from behind a corn-stoolc close in front of me. I halted involuntarily, dazed with surprise, and took a hurried survey of the situation. It was not difficult to comprehend it at a glance. Moving in an easy, careless way I had ridden close up against the Turkish outpost line, which, just as was the Russian outpost line on the opposite side of the valley, was drawn athwart the slope behind the cut grain. So close was I that I could actually see the Paynim rascals grinning at my attitude of scare. Shot followed shot, and each one served to quicken my realisation of the fact that it was extremely injudicious to remain there longer than was quite convenient, so I wheeled sharply in my tracks and galloped headlong down the steep slope, stretched along my horse’s neck. I did not wait to exchange any civilities of leave-taking with the humourous gentlemen squatting behind the cornefcooks. In a twinkling, long before I had reached

the bottom, the Russian outpost line had opened fire on the Turkish outliers who were persecuting me, and this friendly act drew off from me the attention of the latter. Quite, a general, although desultory, musketry skirmish ensued, the bullets of both sides whistling over my head, down in the bottom of the valley as I was by this time. But though I had ceased to be a target I did not feel in the least comfortable. I could not get home among the Russians %vhile they kept up this abominable shooting of theirs —that was too clear —unless I was prepared to take an equal risk to that from which I had just been mercifully preserved. If you are shot it makes no perceptible difference to you whether it is a friend or foe who performs the deed. The .Turkish side, again, were renewing its inhospitable demonstrations ; and it was not at all nice to remain quiescent down in the bottom of the valley, since every now and then a malignant Turk, disregarding his natural enemies the Russians over against him up there, would take a shot byway of variety at - the'inoffensive neutral prowling down below in the middle distance. In my perplexity I resolved to follow up the trough of the valley till Lshould reach a.section of the Russian front where qnietude might be reigning, and where, therefore, I would, have the chance to get back inside the friendly lines and out of my embarrassing predicament. But as I moved along I carried strife and fire along with me. The Russians, out in front of whom I had originally ridden down into the valley, had known at least that I had come from their camp, and had let me alone as being a friend. But as I moved out of their ken I found myself the pariah of both sides, the Ismaelite against whom was every man’s hand. Neither side had any. good feeling toward me, and both took occasional shots at me, which came a great deal too near to be pleasant. Then, having fired at me, nothing would content them but that they should set about firing at each other, and so I was like a fox with a firebrand tied to his tale, spreading conflagration whithersoever I went, By-and-bye I came on a bend in the valley, and this gave me hope ; but as I -marched along I thought I should never get to where the two hostile outpost lines ceased to confront each other. And then all of a sudden the valley began to disappear altogether and merge into the uplands,, a change’in the ground which bade fair to deprive ine-of -what little cover the valley had been affording. Suddenly from an adjacent clump on the Turkish side of the shallowing valley, three horsemen came dashing down on me at a gallop. The alternatives were so clear that he who ran might read, and I was moving at a walk. ‘Either the Turks would make a prisoner of me (if, indeed, they did not kill me on the spot), or I must, if I would make an effort to escape this fate, take my chance of the Russian fire as I galloped for the shelter of the Russian outpost line. ‘ Of two evils choose the less,’ says the wise proverb. I had made up my mind much more quickly than I can write the words down, to ride in upon the Russians ; and so I gave my horse the spur, and fled from my Turkish pursuers. It was pretty clear that the Russians had no sort of comprehension of the situation, but they judged that the simplest course, pending explanation, was to try to kill somebody, so they opened fire with zeal. For me it was like charging a square. I actually all but rode over a man who was confronting me kneeling, with his (presumably empty) rifle held like a pike, and when I was pulled up abruptly inside the Russian straggling line by a strong jerk.on my horse’s bit that threw him back on his haunches, I found myself surrounded by a chevaux de frise of bayonet-points projecting from rifles held by angry, vociferating, and unintelligible persons of Sclavonic extraction. I never knew much practical Russian, and at that time three words were the sum of my acquaintance with that euphonious tongue. None of the three was at all applicable to the conditions of the moment, but I emitted them all in succession, making the best of my scanty stock-in-trade. They availed me nothing. Neither the officer nor any of his men knew a word of English, French, or German. In vain I looked for the Polish Jew who forms a considerable item in most Russian regiments, and who has always a smattering of ab minably low German. - Failing to make my captors understand anything concerning me, I was dismounted with considerable vigour, and promptly taken prisoner, one armed man on either side of me, and a third in a strategic position in the rear. As for my Turkish pursuers, two of them had. turned when within a - few yards of the Russian post ; the third left his horse dead on the ground and himself limped back wounded. For the only time save one, while I was with the Russian Army, did I now produce my formal * pass ’ —my captors refused to give any heed to the badge on my arm, and probably had no conception what it meant. Now the • pass ’ consisted of a photograph of the correspondent, with a dab of red wax on his chest, on which was impressed the headquarter seal, while on the back was written certain cabalistic figures, which, I had been given to understand, instructed all and sundry to whom ‘ these presents ’ might come to recognise the bearer and assist him by all means in their power. It happened that I had grown a beard, since the photograph was taken which constituted my authentication ; 'my captors failed to recognise any resemblance between my bearded countenance and the smooth face ©f the photo graph, and there was thus an added element of suspicion. At length it was resolved to send me up to the camp, to be dealt with there by superior authority. A sergeant and two men shortly marched me off in the direction of the headquarters, while a third led my horse. It was a long tramp, and I was not allowed to choose my own pace. At length, on the plateau before the camp, the divisional flag was seen. The artillery firieg was over, and Baron Driesen and his staff were standing behind the still hot guns. . My appearance was greeted with a simultaneous roar of laughter, in which I tried to join, I confess, ruefully. « Well,’ said Driesen drily, ‘ can you believe now that Turkish Tcherkesses can ride grey horses as well as can Russian hussars ?’ But as we walked back together to drink tea in his tent, there was genuine feeling in the quiet heartiness with which he. congratulated me on my escape from this outpost adventure.