A Jacobite Exile - G. A. Henty (free reads TXT) 📗

way step by step through them, until they reached the spot where the king, with his little troop of cavalry, were defending themselves desperately from the attacks of the Russians.

The arrival of the infantry decided the contest, and the Russians began to draw off, the king hastening the movement by plunging into the midst of them with his horsemen.

Charlie was on the flank of the company as it advanced, and, after running through a Russian horseman with the short pike that was carried by officers, he received a tremendous blow on his steel cap, that stretched him insensible on the ground. When he recovered, he felt that he was being carried, and soon awoke to the fact that he was a prisoner.

After a long ride, the Russians arrived at Plescow. They had lost some sixty men in the fight. Charlie was the only prisoner taken. He was, on dismounting, too weak to stand, but he was half carried and half dragged to the quarters of the Russian officer in command. The latter addressed him, but, finding that he was not understood, sent for an officer who spoke Swedish.

"What were the party you were with doing in the wood?"

"We were hunting wolves and bears."

"Where did you come from?"

"From Marienburg."

"How strong were you?"

"Fifty horse and a hundred and forty foot," Charlie replied, knowing there could be no harm in stating the truth.

"But it was a long way to march, merely to hunt, and your officers must have been mad to come out, with so small a party, to a point where they were likely to meet with us."

"It was not too small a party, sir, as they managed to beat off the attack made upon them."

The Russian was silent for a moment, then he asked:

"Who was the officer in command?"

"The officer in command was the King of Sweden," Charlie replied.

An exclamation of surprise and anger broke from the Russian general, when the answer was translated to him.

"You missed a good chance of distinguishing yourself," he said to the officer in command of the troops. "Here has this mad King of Sweden been actually putting himself in your hands, and you have let him slip through your fingers. It would have got you two steps in rank, and the favour of the czar, had you captured him, and now he will be in a rage, indeed, when he hears that five hundred cavalry could do nothing against a force only a third of their number."

"I had no idea that the King of Sweden was there himself," the officer said humbly.

"Bah, that is no excuse. There were officers, and you ought to have captured them, instead of allowing yourself to be put to flight by a hundred and fifty men."

"We must have killed half the horsemen before the infantry came up."

"All the worse, colonel, that you did not complete the business. The infantry would not have been formidable, after they discharged their pieces. However, it is your own affair, and I wash my hands of it. What the czar will say when he hears of it, I know not, but I would not be in your shoes for all my estates."

As Charlie learned afterwards, the colonel was degraded from his rank by the angry czar, and ordered to serve as a private in the regiment he commanded. The officer who acted as translator said something in his own tongue to the general, who then, through him, said:

"This officer tells me that by your language you are not a Swede."

"I am not. I am English, and I am an ensign in the Malmoe Regiment."

"All the worse for you," the general said. "The czar has declared that he will exchange no foreign officers who may be taken prisoners."

"Very well, sir," Charlie said, fearlessly. "He will be only punishing his own officers. There are plenty of them in the King of Sweden's hands."

The general, when this reply was translated to him, angrily ordered Charlie to be taken away, and he was soon lodged in a cell in the castle. His head was still swimming from the effects of the blow that had stricken him down, and, without even trying to think over his position, he threw himself down on the straw pallet, and was soon asleep.

It was morning when he woke and, for a short time, he was unable to imagine where he was, but soon recalled what had happened. He had been visited by someone after he had lain down, for a platter of bread and meat stood on the table, and a jug of water. He was also covered with two thick blankets. These had not been there when he lay down, for he had wondered vaguely as to how he should pass the night without some covering.

He took a long draught of water, then ate some food. His head throbbed with the pain of the wound. It had been roughly bandaged by his captors, but needed surgical dressing.

"I wonder how long I am likely to be, before I am exchanged," he said to himself. "A long time, I am afraid; for there are scores of Russian officers prisoners with us, and I don't think there are half a dozen of ours captured by the Russians. Of course, no exchange can take place until there are a good batch to send over, and, it may be, months may pass before they happen to lay hands on enough Swedish officers to make it worth while to trouble about exchanging them."

An hour later the door opened, and an officer entered, followed by a soldier with a large bowl of broth and some bread.

"I am a doctor," he said in Swedish. "I came in to see you yesterday evening, but you were sound asleep, and that was a better medicine than any I can give; so I told the man to throw those two barrack rugs over you, and leave your food in case you should wake, which did not seem to me likely. I see, however, that you did wake," and he pointed to the plate.

"That was not till this morning, doctor. It is not an hour since I ate it."

"This broth will be better for you, and I daresay you can manage another breakfast. Sit down and take it, at once, while it is hot. I am in no hurry."

He gave an order in Russian to the soldier, who went out, and returned in a few minutes with a small wooden tub, filled with hot water. By this time Charlie had finished the broth. The doctor then bathed his head for some time in hot water, but was obliged to cut off some of his hair, in order to remove the bandage. As he examined the wound, Charlie was astounded to hear him mutter to himself:

"It is a mighty nate clip you have got, my boy; and, if your skull had not been a thick one, it is lying out there on the turf you would be."

Charlie burst into a fit of laughter.

"So you are English, too," he exclaimed, as he looked up into the surgeon's face.

"At laste Irish, my boy," the doctor said, as surprised as Charlie had been. "To think we should have been talking Swedish to each other, instead of our native tongue. And what is your name? And what is it you are doing here, as a Swede, at all?"

"My name is Charles Carstairs. I come from Lancashire, just on the borders of Westmoreland. My father is a Jacobite, and so had to leave the country. He went over to Sweden, and I, with some friends of his, got commissions."

"Then our cases are pretty much alike," the doctor said. "I had gone through Dublin University, and had just passed as a surgeon, when King James landed. It didn't much matter to me who was king, but I thought it was a fine opportunity to study gunshot wounds, so I joined the royal army, and was at the battle of the Boyne. I had plenty of work with wounds, early in the day, but when, after the Irish had fairly beat the Dutchman back all day, they made up their minds to march away at night, I had to lave my patients and be off too. Then I was shut up in Limerick; and I was not idle there, as you may guess. When at last the surrender came, I managed to slip away, having no fancy for going over with the regiments that were to enter the service of France. I thought I could have gone back to Dublin, and that no one would trouble about me; but someone put them up to it, and I had to go without stopping to ask leave. I landed at Bristol, and there, for a time, was nearly starving.

"I was well nigh my wits' end as to what to do for a living, and had just spent my last shilling, when I met an English captain, who told me that across at Gottenburg there were a good many Irish and Scotchmen who had, like myself, been in trouble at home. He gave me a passage across, and took me to the house of a man he knew. Of course, it was no use my trying to doctor people, when they could not tell me what was the matter with them, and I worked at one thing and another, doing anything I could turn my hands to, for four or five months. That is how I got to pick up Swedish. Then some people told me that Russia was a place where a doctor might get on, for that they had got no doctors for their army who knew anything of surgery, and the czar was always ready to take on foreigners who could teach them anything. I had got my diploma with me, and some of my friends came forward and subscribed enough to rig me out in clothes and pay my passage. What was better, one of them happened to have made the acquaintance of Le Ford, who was, as you may have heard, the czar's most intimate friend.

"I wished myself back a hundred times before I reached Moscow, but when I did, everything was easy for me. Le Ford introduced me to the czar, and I was appointed surgeon of a newly-raised regiment, of which Le Ford was colonel. That was eight years ago, and I am now a sort of surgeon general of a division, and am at the head of the hospitals about here. Till the war began I had not, for five years, done any military work, but had been at the head of a college the czar has established for training surgeons for the army. I was only sent down here after that business at Narva.

"So, you see, I have fallen on my feet. The czar's is a good service, and we employ a score or two of Scotchmen, most of them in good posts. He took to them because a Scotchman, General Gordon, and other foreign officers, rescued him from his sister Sophia, who intended to assassinate him, and established him firmly on the throne of his father.

"It is a pity you are not on this side. Perhaps it isn't too late to change, eh?"

Charlie laughed.

"My father is in Sweden, and my company is commanded by a man who is as good as a father to me, and his son is like my brother. If there were no other reason, I could not change. Why, it was only yesterday I was sitting round a bivouac fire with King Charles, and nothing would induce me to fight against him."

"I am not going to try to persuade you. The czar has treated me well, and I love him. By the way, I have not given you my name after all. It's Terence Kelly."

"Is not the czar very fierce and cruel?"

"Bedad, I would be much more cruel and fierce if I were in his place. Just think of one man, with