The Red, White, and Green Part 19

We had, however, lost many men; and when, for the third time, the iron b.a.l.l.s tore through our ranks, the survivors would have no more of it.

Back they went helter-skelter, tumbling over one another in their eagerness to seek shelter, Rakoczy's orders being unheeded in the stampede.

The attack had hopelessly failed, and it was plain to all that the bravest troops would only be thrown back crushed and bleeding from that lane of death.

The check was a serious one. To turn the position by another pa.s.s would cause a delay of several days, which might ruin the whole cause, for we did not know that Windischgratz was still in Pesth.

The artillery duel began again, while we re-formed our ranks and looked about us gloomily.

On our right and left huge precipices, covered with ice and snow, towered skyward.

If only it were practicable to scale them, we might yet drive the Austrians out.

I could not keep my eyes from the cliffs, nor dismiss the idea from my head.

Fifty good shots perched up there could pick off every artilleryman who stood by the enemy's guns.

There were numerous mountaineers in the regiment, and I myself had always been reckoned a good climber.

I had just escaped death; but unless some other plan was discovered, Gorgei would fling us at that barrier until those who survived--if there were any--did get over. In fact, he could not help himself.

And if death came while I was scaling the cliff, why, the result was no worse than if it met me in the narrow path.

I went to Rakoczy and told him what was in my head.

Just for an instant he turned pale, and the smile left his face, but he soon recovered his composure.

"There are a hundred chances of death in fifty yards," he said, "and a thousand when the Austrians see the dodge."

"There are five thousand in front of us," I answered. "Still, that isn't the point. Will you give me an axe and leave to go?"

"I wouldn't order or even ask you to try; but if you're bent on it--"

"It may save hundreds of lives."

"Then I'll borrow you a hatchet, and call for volunteers."

He turned to the regiment. "I want twenty men fond of mountain-climbing to go on a little excursion with Lieutenant Botskay."

More than half the regiment stepped to the front, and, selecting a score, I told them what we were going to do.

The major sent for some hatchets, and then informed Gorgei, who instantly dispatched a cloud of sharpshooters to distract the enemy's attention.

Unbuckling my sword, I gave it to Rakoczy, and, in case of accidents, wished him good-bye.

Stephen had been sent on an errand by the general, and I was rather pleased than otherwise by his absence; the knowledge that he was below, gazing up at me and trembling for my safety, might have preyed on my nerve.

My twenty men--all muscular, wiry fellows--laid aside their rifles, and, axe in hand, stood ready to mount.

Fifty of the finest marksmen waited beneath the cliff, ready to follow in our track if we should find or cut a path, and to protect us from the enemy's fire.

Meanwhile, the sharpshooters at the front, snugly sheltered behind rocks and boulders, discharged their rifles incessantly, and, without doing much damage, kept the Austrians well employed.

Our starting-point was a ledge, to which we were hoisted on men's shoulders, and which was so narrow that we could barely preserve a footing.

A hum of sympathy rose from the ranks as I cut the first notch; but for the fear of attracting attention it would have been a roar of cheering.

Rakoczy had said truly there were a hundred chances of death in fifty yards. The cold was so intense that several times the hatchet was within an ace of slipping from my fingers; and once, while attempting to hang on by a jutting ledge, I must have rolled over but for the man behind me. The first part of the journey we did in single file, and of course each climber made the way easier for the next one, so that it became possible for Rakoczy to send on the soldiers with rifles.

Up in the pa.s.s our light guns had been partly silenced; but the sharpshooters were busy firing as fast as they could load, and so making the Austrians believe that another a.s.sault was to be delivered.

To this end, also, the 9th Honveds had been drawn up and placed in position, but out of the line of fire, as if they were only awaiting the support of the next regiment in order to charge.

We had reached an immense wall of ice, perpendicular, smooth, and of almost unbroken surface, and I was regarding it with dismay, when the man behind me exclaimed, "To the right, lieutenant! There seems to be a tiny path; we can creep round."

There was a tiny path indeed, so narrow that we had to press against the wall like flies, and I doubted the wisdom of attempting to pa.s.s.

"It will get wider, sir; and once round, the rest will be easy."

I gave one last thought to my friends and put my foot on the ledge.

In spite of the ice and snow and the bitter, freezing wind I was hot enough now--so hot that my body was bathed in perspiration.

Placing the fingers of my left hand in a small crevice, I cut a little nick farther on, and thus, step by step, made my perilous way.

Half-way across I was seized by a fit of terror, and clung to the wall helplessly like a frightened child, not daring to move, hardly, indeed, to breathe.

Something had unnerved me; I scarcely knew what. There had been a rasping of ice, a sound as of slipping feet, a groan of anguish promptly suppressed, and I felt as if the angel of death had lightly brushed me with his spreading wings.

The sound of an unfamiliar voice brought me to my senses. A man was speaking, but it was not Szemere, the one who had up till now been my close attendant.

"Hold tight, sir. Szemere has gone over--missed his footing."

I shuddered to think of the poor fellow's awful fate, but, strangely enough, the knowledge of it restored my courage. I ceased to tremble, braced myself up, and cut another notch. Down below, the unequal fight was being waged in the pa.s.s. We could hear the roar of the heavy guns, the sharp, crisp rattle of the musketry, the shouts of the combatants, while we hung like a line of flies to the face of the cliffs.

At length, with every muscle strained, with aching limbs, with scratched face, and bleeding fingers, I cut the last notch, and stood in comparative safety.

The next man, a light, wiry fellow, he who had told me of Szemere's death, cut the notch deeper, and as he did so the axe slipped from his nerveless fingers and went clattering down the abyss.

The brown of his face turned to a greyish-white colour; his legs tottered; his teeth knocked together; his hold loosened; in another second he would be gone!

I never could clearly understand what happened then. I remember dimly that my arms were locked round the fellow's waist, that our bodies were swaying to and fro, that by force of instinct I used all my strength to swing backward.

In this I must have succeeded, for presently I found myself lying on the flat of my back, still hugging the soldier. A pull at my flask of silovitz set me right, and then I forced some of the liquor into the mouth of my companion. Directly the poor fellow recovered from his stupor he knelt and kissed my hands, saying gratefully,--

"My life is yours, sweet master. Mecsey Sandor is your servant for ever and ever."

We in Hungary adopt the plan of placing the surname first; English-speaking people would call the man Sandor or Alexander Mecsey.