Boothby Guy
Long Live the King!
"It seems strange," said Bertram to Max one day, as they stood watching the picturesque old city across the river, "that it should be so difficult to get inside those walls. Surely there must be some way of managing it?"
"That's just what I've been thinking lately," answered Max. "I should very much like to make the attempt. It would be an adventure after my own heart."
"If you are willing to try," returned the other, "I would go into it with you. What a grand thing it would be!"
"If only we could open the gates to admit our troops!" said Max. "It seems impossible at first glance, but we might do our best. Even if we did not succeed it would not very much matter. I've a good mind to ask permission to make the attempt."
That evening he announced that he had been fortunate enough to obtain his commanding officer's consent to investigate the walls and river bank with a view to entering the city.
"You can never succeed," said that gruff and grim old officer when he had heard everything, "and your life will in all probability pay the forfeit. But you have earned the right to make the attempt, my lad, and if you are willing to be such a fool as to run the risk, Heaven forbid that I should attempt to prevent you. Try your luck, and let me know, if you are not killed, how you succeed."
Permission having been thus grudgingly obtained, Max and Bertram repaired to their quarters to work out their plans and to make the preparations for the adventures of the evening. Undeterred by any thought of the risk they would run, they worked away as happily as schoolboys. A little before midnight they left the camp and made their way cautiously across the open country toward the somewhat sluggish river that made the circuit of the city walls. Fortunately for them the night was dark, and a thick drizzle was falling, blotting out the landscape effectually, and making it extremely difficult to see more than a few yards ahead. Though they knew that for this reason the guards would in all probability be more on the alert than usual, they had the consolation of knowing that the chances were that, hidden by the mist, their presence would be less likely to be discovered than on other occasions. For some time past a certain portion of the wall had exercised a great fascination for Max. The particular section in question was not a great distance removed from the main gate, and, for more reasons than one, it seemed to him that if an attack was to be made at all this was the place at which it should be attempted. It was towards this point, accordingly, that they directed their steps, proceeding with the greatest caution, until at length they reached the river's bank.
"It strikes me we're likely to have a cold swim," Max whispered to his companion, as he looked across the water. "Keep as close to me as you can, and, above all, make no noise. If you do they'll fire upon us that instant."
A few moments later they were in the water, striking out for the opposite bank. As Max had predicted, the water was bitterly cold; fortunately, however, they were both strong swimmers, and the distance was not sufficiently great to subject them to any great amount of risk so far as cramp was concerned.
As they got a footing on the opposite bank, above them towered the city wall, rising to a height of scarcely less than forty feet. At its foot, and directly in front of them, was a strip of sloping bank some six or eight feet in width. Taking care to make no noise, even though it would be scarcely likely to be heard had they done so, they climbed up, and then carefully walked along this narrow platform, pausing now and again to carefully examine the wall and to make a note of the facilities it presented for effecting the purpose they had in view. Much to their disappointment, however, no fitting place presented itself. It is true that with the assistance of a ladder it might have been possible to scale the wall, but the strip of bank before referred to was so short and narrow, and the height of the wall itself was so great, that the number of ladders which could have been set upon it would have been quite inadequate to carry the force of men necessary to ensure the success of such a gigantic undertaking.
"And yet it is the only place," said Max, in a disappointed whisper, "in the whole circuit of the walls where it would be safe to try. Let me get fifty men over at this point and I guarantee to seize the main gate and to have the troops in the city before anyone could tell what had happened. As it is, there is nothing for it but for us to return and to test some other place another night."
Seeing that it was no use their remaining, and remembering that every moment they delayed added to their danger, they determined to set off. As noiselessly as otters, therefore, they slipped into the water and re-crossed the river. Immediately on their return to camp, Max reported himself to his commanding officer and informed him of the ill-success which had followed their enterprise.
"As I expected," he answered, when they had unfolded to him the various details of the attempt.
"However, it's a good thing you got back safely and without arousing their suspicions. Do I understand you to say that you desire to try your luck again?"
"Again and again until we succeed," Max replied. "There must be some way of getting in, if it can only be found. I mean to find it."
The colonel looked curiously at the man before him. He noticed that he did not speak like a common soldier, and he wondered what his history could be. He asked one or two further questions, and then bade him return to his quarters, giving them permission to make the attempt again, if they were still crack-brained enough to desire to do so.
The next night proved too fine for the attempt, but on the night following, having made a careful inspection of the neighbourhood during the day, and finding that it was sufficiently dark for them to cross the river, they set off. This time, however, they met with no better success than before, and returned from their expedition disappointed, but by no means disheartened.
"No," said Max to Bertram, when they discussed the matter in solemn conclave afterwards, "there can be no sort of doubt about one thing, and that is the fact that the place we first tried near the main gates is the point, and the only one that is likely to serve our purpose."
For the next few days he was occupied in a brown study, turning and twisting the situation in his mind. Then an idea occurred to him, an idea so luminous that he wondered he had not thought of it before. He described it to Bertram, who, sanguine as ever, declared that it could not be anything but successful. They therefore set off once more to interview the colonel, to whom Max explained his scheme.
"I scarcely know what to say," the other replied, when he had heard him out. "The notion certainly seems feasible enough, and, given a considerable slice of luck, might possibly succeed; the question is, however, whether the enemy would allow it to be carried out. One small slip and it would result in a fiasco. However, I will lay it before General Groplau without delay, and hear what he has to say. If there is any chance of success in it you may be sure it will be tried. The Prince Regent is expected here next week, and I have no doubt the general would like to present him with the keys of the city as a souvenir of his first visit to his army."
Bertram has since informed me that Max turned very pale on hearing this. The colonel, however, was too much occupied with another matter, which had just been presented to him to notice his consternation. Even had he done so, I doubt very much whether he would have had any suspicion of the cause which had given rise to it. Later that evening he sent an orderly to call Max to his presence once more.
"I have spoken to the general," he said, "and I may tell you that he is favourably inclined towards the scheme you have submitted. He desires to question you upon the subject personally, so that you had better make your way to his quarters with me and tell him everything."
Max did as he was directed, and followed his colonel along the hillside to the château, where General Groplau had taken up his residence. The General was in his study.
"Your commanding officer," he said, as Max entered, "has informed me that you and one of your fellow-men are desirous of making an attempt to enter the city. Furnish me, in detail, with your plan."
Thus encouraged, Max set to work and gave the general an outline of the idea he had formed in his own mind. After he had finished, the other rapped upon the writing-table softly with his fingers, and his brow was knitted in thought. On his calling for a plan it was brought to him, and he studied it attentively.
"I hear you have already crossed the river under cover of night. Is this so?"
Max respectfully replied that it was, whereupon the other put several further questions to him. When he had heard the answers he once more turned to the plan before him.
"You have an adventurous spirit," he said, looking up after some minutes had elapsed, "I have heard of you before. If I am not mistaken, you are the man to whom I offered a commission, and who surprised me by declining it. Is not that so?"
Max replied in the affirmative, and when he saw the searching way in which the general scanned his face, began to wish he had not been so ready to come to headquarters.
"Well, well," said the other at last, "you have your own reasons, I suppose; reasons which have nothing whatsoever to do with me. However, with regard to this scheme of yours, it seems feasible, and if you are willing to make the attempt I shall be pleased to grant you the necessary permission. A dark night must be chosen, however, and the men must be selected with the utmost care. If your attempt is successful, you will have done a deed which I do not think you will have reason ever to regret. If it fails, I don't suppose we shall hear of you again. Now you can go and make your preparations. Inform your commanding officer of everything you do. And, above all, do not act until you hear from me."
Thus encouraged, Max spent the next few days in preparing for the desperate attempt upon which he and Bertram had so set their hearts. There was so much to be done, so many matters to be arranged; there were competent and trustworthy men to be chosen and instructed in the parts they were to play, and, above all, there was the necessity of preventing the enemy from having any suspicion of what they were about to do.
December 12th, as, alas! many unfortunate families have good reason to remember, opened with sunshine, and was more like a spring than a winter's day. Towards noon, however, clouds appeared in the sky, and as day closed in, snow commenced to fall, and showed every sign of continuing. Nothing could have been better suited to the expedition Max had in view. To his commanding officer he applied for permission to act that night, which permission, all the necessary preparations being made, was readily accorded him. It was still snowing heavily, and, in consequence, the night was so dark and thick that it was scarcely possible to see half a dozen steps ahead. Sad though the recollections of that dreadful time must naturally be to me, for the honour of my House, I like to try and picture Max as he was at that moment. It was his fertile brain which had originated the scheme; it was he who was leading the assault. His valour was well known to the men who were accompanying him, and they would follow wherever he might lead; nevertheless, I fancy they would have gone with him with even greater eagerness had they been aware that their leader was also their king. In order that their presence should run no risk of attracting attention, the order was given to advance towards the river in skirmishing order. Once there they laid themselves down in a sheltered spot upon the bank and waited while Max, who this time would not permit Bertram to accompany him, made his preparations for crossing the river. A small raft, capable of carrying the implements and the stores it was necessary he should take with him, had already been built, and this, with its precious cargo, was now placed in the stream. The men had been instructed before setting out that not a word was to be spoken or a movement made until Max rejoined them. Then, creeping down the bank he lowered himself into the black, icy water below, and struck out for mid-stream, pushing his raft before him as he went. So heavy was the snowstorm, and consequently so dark was the night, that he could see nothing of his direction, and was therefore compelled to trust mainly to chance, in order to arrive safely at the proper spot on the other side. Above all, he knew he must make no noise. While, under existing conditions, he had small fear of being observed by the sentries on the battlements above, yet he had no desire to run any unnecessary risks.
Only let one of them, he argued, entertain the least suspicion of what was going on below, and farewell to the success of his plans. As events turned out, he was luckier than he expected to be. Having made better allowance for the sluggish current than he had imagined, he was at last rewarded by feeling the further side of the raft grating against the bank. Next moment his feet touched the bottom, and he knew that he was at his destination. So far, everything had progressed admirably, but it was at this point that his real work began. Having reached the security of the bank, he removed the various articles from the raft, drew it out of the water, and placed it carefully against the wall. He feared that if he sent it floating on down stream, it might chance to be observed from the gates, and thus suspicion be aroused. Then, with as little noise as possible, he set to work to dig a hole at the foot of the wall; this finished, he began another one, a short distance further along the shelving bank. The ground was frozen, and so loud did the ring of the pick seem upon it that every moment he expected to receive a challenge from the walls above and to hear a bullet whistle across the water.
In something less than an hour, however, the mines with which he had been furnished were properly laid, after the fashion in which he had been instructed by the engineers. Now, if only he could manage to apply the match to the slow fuses unseen by the enemy, and to make his way back to the men who were waiting for him on the opposite bank, all appeared as if it would be well. Using the raft he had brought with him as a screen, he lit a match and applied it to the fuse. As soon as it had ignited, he crept along the bank and did the same to the second mine; then, having reassured himself that both were burning steadily, he slipped into the water and struck out to join his comrades, and to await the result of his labours. As he reached the opposite shore the clocks in the beleagured city struck midnight, the hour at which the remainder of troops were to take up their positions at the various posts assigned to them. Snow was still falling heavily, and the wind blew mournfully across the plain as if in anticipation of the agonising drama that was soon to be acted. The fuses were timed to burn in twenty minutes, and before that time had elapsed it was certain that the guards would be changed at the main gates, the objective it was so necessary they should reach. To the hundred men crouching upon the bank every minute seemed an hour. To Max, wet and cold as he was, each was like an eternity. He was possessed by all sorts of fears. What if the fuses should have gone out! What if any mistake should have been made in the arrangements, and the troops not be in their proper places at the stipulated time! What if, when they had broken in, the garrison should turn out and intercept them before they could reach the main gate and overpower the guard! In the horrible uncertainty of the moment, anything seemed likely to happen. Again and again he tried to be patient, but his efforts were in vain. Surely the fuses must be near the mines by this time. If daylight should come all would be lost. He looked about him as the thought occurred, almost expecting to see the dawn breaking over the mountains. Then, with a suddenness that was terrifying, and with a roar that might have been heard for many miles, and with a wealth of flame that lit up the country-side, the first of the mines exploded, followed scarcely an instant later by its fellow. For a moment the air was filled with the shattered fragments of the walls, some of which fell among the men waiting on the river bank, some in the river itself, but none in the doomed city. Then Max sprang to his feet.
"Come, my lads," he cried, "follow me!"
Rifle in hand he dashed into the river, the men imitated his example, and almost before anyone could have told what had happened they were half-way to the other side. Before they reached the opposite bank, however, the sound of another explosion on the further side of the city came to them, followed by a heavy cannonading and the shrieking of shells. It was the ruse which they had arranged to adopt in order to make the enemy believe that the principal attack would take place on that side. Panting after their swim, the men clambered up the bank, which was now littered with fragments of masonry. A breach between thirty and forty feet in length had been made in the wall, and through this they dashed. In the city, by this time, the bells were pealing and bugles sounding. The street, however, immediately behind the breach was empty, and now a distance of scarcely a hundred yards separated them from the main gate.
"On, on, my lads!" cried Max; and with his party behind him he dashed along the thoroughfare. As he was well aware, the success of their enterprise depended upon the next few minutes. If they could not capture the gate, all the rest was useless. At last they reached the corner of the street in which stands the ancient church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. It looked very peaceful in its white mantle, but, sad to say, that mantle was destined to be stained with crimson soon enough. Only a few yards now separated them from the gate, and already, by the light of the great lantern above the arch, they could discern the hurrying figures of the guard.
"Charge!" cried Max, in a voice that rang through the deserted square like a trumpet-call. A moment later, they were upon the enemy, and the ghastly carnage had commenced. Never before had the old church looked down upon such a scene. The issue, however, was never for a moment in doubt. Outnumbered as they were, desperate as were their efforts to hold the gate, the struggle had scarcely begun before it was ended. The main entrance to the city being now in their possession, Max struck a match and applied it to the precious rocket he had brought with him for that purpose. There was a slight hissing noise, and then the fiery note of triumph shot up into the darkness, throwing out myriad blue lights to acquaint the troops who were waiting outside that the capture of the gate had been effected. By this time, however, the guns which had been trained upon the bridge from the market square were manned by gunners, and a hail of grape was showered upon the gallant little band. The keys of the gate were, of course, in the possession of the governor of the city, but Max knew that before many minutes could elapse the engineers would be blowing it in, as if it were of tissue paper. All this time the three guns were doing terrible execution. Almost half of his small force had fallen, and he knew that unless they were stopped certain death would be the portion of the remainder.
"Those guns must be silenced!" he cried. "Forward, my lads, and let us do it!"
The gallant fellows replied with a cheer, and, regardless of the storm of bullets that was being poured in upon them, dashed across the stones of the market-place towards the spot where the guns stood. It was madness even to dream that they could be successful, but the madness, if madness it were, was certainly heroic. Rudolf Kellerman, the giant corporal of Max's own company, fell, shot through the heart, before they had advanced ten yards; fair-haired Otto Stedicz, who looked like a poet, and who fought like a devil, was struck down a few yards further on. The heavy fire was more than flesh and blood could face, and for a moment the men wavered. Max, however, called to them to come on. Gaining fresh courage by his example, they hurled themselves upon the gunners. Once there nothing could stand against them. The men went down like corn before the sickle. They had scarcely captured them, however, before the welcome sound of an explosion reached them from the main gate. The great doors, which had remained closed for so long, were burst asunder, and immediately our troops poured into the city. Furious cannonading was still proceeding on the other side, while the garrison, roused from sleep, and surrounded on every hand, were unable to tell what to do or whom to attack first. One portion of the troops hastened to the west side, the remainder, marching to the east, were met by the brigade which had entered through the main gate. Meanwhile, another strong detachment of our army had crossed the river, and having made its way in, by means of the breach by which Max and his party had entered, passed quickly through the streets to the great square of the city, thus effectually preventing the two forces from joining company again. So swiftly and well were these arrangements carried out, that no hitch of any sort occurred, and though for some little time the fighting was very severe in certain quarters, when day dawned the enemy's general, seeing how futile further resistance would be, capitulated, and thus the city fell into our hands.
All the arrangements having been completed, and as soon as General Groplau was at liberty to think of other things, he gave orders that inquiries should be made concerning the whereabouts of the man to whom their great success was mainly due.
To take up the thread of my story again at the point where I left off, in order to describe the victory gained by our troops, it is necessary that I should revert to the disastrous effect upon Max's small force. Feeling sure that it would only be a question of time before the guns would be retaken from him, and realising that if they were left in their present position, they would in all human probability be turned upon the brigade now entering by the main gate, he and his men between them dragged them from the spot to a dark alley on the other side of the square, where it was unlikely they would be found in time to work further mischief. They had scarcely done this before they, in their turn, were compelled to beat a retreat before a regiment that was coming towards them at the double. Nothing was left, therefore, but for them to ascend the steps leading to the old church to which I have before referred. Seeing them, the enemy poured a volley into the portico of the sacred building, and then prepared to drive them out with the bayonet. Here, however, the small band that was left had somewhat of an advantage. Being in the dark themselves, and having what light there was in front of them, they could see their foes, who could not see them. Wearied, however, as they were, it was impossible that they could hold out for long. The pile of the dead that lay at the foot of the steps when dawn broke was a proof, if any were wanted, of the gallantry with which they fought. It was not long before a force was despatched to their assistance, and the enemy retired, having lost thirty men in that short encounter.
"Who are you, and how do you come to be here?" inquired the officer of the relieving force, as he ascended the steps. Max informed him, but had scarcely sufficient strength left to articulate the words. When he had finished he fell back against the wall, knowing that he was wounded, and believing it to be to the death. The officer – it was Fritz von Mulhaus – caught him in his arms before he could touch the ground, while Bertram, who was unwounded, hastened to his side. Between them they laid him gently down.
"Let me lie so," said Max; "I think it is all over with me now. Can you tell me if the city is ours?"
"There is not the least doubt about it, I should say," Mulhaus replied. "And if it is, we owe it to you."
"And to the brave fellows who accompanied me," answered Max, faintly. "I could have done nothing without them. And now you must not stay with me. I shall be quite comfortable here."
But Mulhaus would not be sent away. Whatever the circumstances might be, he would not leave him until he had seen him conveyed to a house near by, and until he himself had given orders that a surgeon should be sent for.
"Have you discovered what became of the man who led the storming party?" inquired General Groplau, when his aide-de-camp returned to the house which he had made his headquarters.
"I have seen him, sir," the officer replied; "and I have questioned the surgeon who is attending him. If he is not a dead man by this time, he very soon will be."
"That is sad news, indeed," answered the general. "He was a brave man, and there is no doubt that we owe all our success to him. I should have liked to have presented him to Prince Paul. He would have rewarded him as he deserves. Well, well, it's the fortune of war."
Two hours earlier I had crossed the Border, and at mid-day, if all went well, I should be with the army. At ten o'clock, as we halted in a tiny village, news was brought me from the front, and, for the first time, I learnt the story of the city's downfall. The officer who brought it gave me a description of a certain private soldier's bravery, and informed me that the brave fellow was reported to be mortally wounded.
"God grant he may live till I have an opportunity of giving him my thanks for the service he has rendered his king and country."
Then turning to one of the equerries, with whom Max had played as a boy, I continued, "This is a deed which the king would have loved to share."
Then we pushed on for the city, little knowing the surprise that awaited me there.
