Chapter Six.
War with Russia
The summer months flew by in the pleasant surroundings of beautiful Windsor. Guard duties alternating with drills, and odd hours spent in the office of the regimental orderly-room, kept Phil pleasantly occupied, and when off duty he and Tony had always plenty of ways of amusing themselves, so that the latter days of September found them loth to leave the garrison and march to London. But orders had come for the battalion to go to Wellington Barracks, and in due course they found themselves once more installed in their old quarters, facing the park across the celebrated Bird-cage Walk.
“We’ve had a real good time down there,” remarked Tony, some two months after their arrival, jerking his thumb in the direction of Windsor, “and it’ll be long before we strike against such another.
“What’s to be done here? Nothing – simply nothing! It’s drill and go on guard nigh every day, and when you’re free, kick yer heels in the square, or go out walking. I’m getting tired of it already.”
“Oh, come, Tony, it isn’t quite so bad as that!” laughed Phil. “We’re no harder worked here than we were during the summer, and in our free time we can find heaps to do if we only set about it. They say that thousands of Londoners know far less about their own surroundings than do occasional visitors. Now I propose we get some sort of a guide, and every day we are able, go off to see some gallery or museum. It will cost us little or nothing, and will be good fun. In any case it would take weeks to exhaust all the sights, and before that, if all one hears is true, we are likely to be setting our faces south for some other country.”
“Oh, you mean we’ll be off fighting, do you, Phil? Well, I ain’t so jolly certain. Seems to me that England ain’t keen on a row just now. It takes a scholar to know anything about it, but I hears that the Queen and her government want peace, and I suppose what England wants she’s bound to have. Leastways that’s how I reckon it, for we’d whop the heads off any nation what tried to interfere.”
“Ha, ha! You’ve rather a big idea of England’s power,” laughed Phil; “but there’s a good deal of truth in it, I expect. I must get to know about this row, and meanwhile we’ll do as I said, if you’re agreeable.”
“Yes, it’ll suit me well, young un,” answered Tony, who was fond of addressing his friend in that way. “I don’t drink, and I ain’t never in trouble nowadays, thanks to you, but there’s no saying what might happen if I hadn’t anything to do. What’s that kind of saying about idleness?”
“Idleness is the root of all evil.”
“Yes, that’s it, Phil. Give me plenty to do, and I’ll be better able to keep that promise I made yer.”
Accordingly Phil and Tony laid out a couple of shillings in a guide, and commenced systematically to investigate the sights of London, commencing with the Tower, where a regiment of Guards was quartered, and turning their attention next to the British Museum, which itself occupied several days.
“We must do the thing thoroughly,” said Phil, as, book in hand, he and Tony strolled through one of the larger rooms. “I’ll tell you what will be a good plan. We’ll pay a visit to the map room, look up a certain country, and then investigate whatever curios there happen to be from that part.”
“I’m with yer, Phil,” Tony answered cheerfully, wishing to please his companion, and secretly imbued with a firm determination to make up as much as possible for his ignorance. “But you’ll have to show me everything. I don’t suppose I’d be able to tell the difference between a map of France and one of England. You’d better start with the lot, and point ’em out one by one.”
Anxious to improve his humble friend, Phil took up his education in this way with zest, and spent hours in scanning a map of the world. So deeply interested did they become that on the second day they did not observe that a little man, dressed in respectable black, and wearing a large white stock, had stolen up behind them, and with smiling face, and eyes which peered through a pair of glasses, was peeping over their shoulders and listening with interest to the harangue which Phil was delivering for the benefit of Tony.
“There’s the Black Sea, communicating with the Mediterranean by means of this narrow channel,” Phil was remarking, as he placed his finger on the Dardanelles, and ran it up and down to show the communication between the two seas. “There’s Turkey, and there’s Russia; and it’s between those two countries that war is imminent.”
“Then Russia and the Czar, or whatever he’s called, ought to be ashamed of theirselves, that’s all I’ve got to say,” answered Tony with disgust. “See what a size the first one is. Why, the other’s only a baby.”
“She’ll fight for all that, Tony, so people say, but why or for what I don’t know. Russia wants something, and Turkey says ‘No’. Russia has answered that she will have it or war, and now I believe the Sultan is on the point of replying.”
“Yus, that’s clear enough, young un, but what about Old England? Where does she come in? Why should she fight Russia when the row’s between the Czar and the Sultan? It beats me altogether.”
“And me too, Tony. I’m in a regular fog.”
“Then allow me to help you,” came in suave tones from the dapper little stranger, with such suddenness, that both Tony and Phil started back in surprise.
“Ah! did not know that I was there, I suppose,” remarked the stranger, with a smile. “But I’ve been listening – listening with interest for some time. You have had some education, I observe, young sir,” he continued, addressing Phil, “and if you and your companion would really care, I will clear up this mystery for you.”
“Thank you! It would be very kind, sir,” exclaimed Phil. “We have bothered about the matter many days.”
“And there is no one who ought to be informed more than you, my friends,” the stranger remarked earnestly. “As sure as my name is Shelton, you of the Guards, and many another soldier boy, will be off towards the Black Sea before many weeks have passed. For war is practically certain.”
“Horroo! You don’t say so, sir!” cried Tony, snapping his fingers with delight and drawing himself up stiffly as though to show Mr Shelton what a fight he would make of it.
“But I do, my young friend,” the latter replied, with a grave smile. “War is undoubtedly imminent, and the Powers are about to grapple with an enemy as subtle and as courageous as exists in any part of the world. But come, glance at the map and I will try to tell you all about the trouble, and when I have finished I feel sure that you two will go out with all the more determination to do your duty for the sake of the oppressed and for England’s honour, for if ever there was an act of bullying the Czar is guilty of it.
“You must know that Russia’s teeming thousands are, as a mass, densely, hopelessly ignorant. Peasants for the most part, they live a life of abject misery. They are little better than slaves, and, ruled over by various lords, they one and all look to the Czar as all-powerful, unconquerable, and as a tyrant whose word is law, and whose hand, lifted in anger, is worse than death itself. He is, in other words, an autocratic ruler, and he, like those who held the throne before him, has diligently followed out a policy of keeping his poor subjects in a state of ignorance. What a work it would be to lift those poor people from their lifelong condition of serfdom! A work fit for the best of rulers; but educate them, teach them to think for themselves, and at once your autocratic government ceases, for the masses will unite and rise against a galling system of tyranny and oppression. They will no longer bow to the will of one man – to thousands in the far-off districts a ruler only in name, – but, goaded to rebellion, they will fight for that liberty sweet to every man.
“Thus, you will follow me, education is opposed to autocratic rule. But such a rule, bringing in its train misery and poverty, breeds discontent, and even the most pitiable of wretches, if sufficiently ill-treated, will brood over their wrongs till the fury of hate seizes them, and once more the reign of the absolute ruler is threatened. So well is the Czar Nicholas aware of this, that to distract the attention of his subjects from their grievances he has filled their minds with the alluring spectacle of foreign conquests. Look at the map. See how big the Russian empire is, and remember how a great part is almost uninhabitable owing to excessive cold. Then look at her capital, Saint Petersburg, and see how far from European ports it is. How much better for her if she possessed a town in the position of Constantinople. Then, with the narrow Dardanelles to guard, she could post a fleet of war-ships in the Black Sea, and at any moment swoop down into the Mediterranean. She would become at once mistress of that sea, and as such could intimidate her neighbours. And in peace times what an outlet the Turkish capital would prove for all Russia’s surplus manufactures, and how easily a vast quantity of stores could be imported through it! It would be the making of Russia, my young friends, and she knows it, has known it, and has steadily worked for that end.”
Mr Shelton paused, and, drawing the map closer, pointed out the various points of interest in Russia and Turkey, while Phil and Tony followed him.
“Ah, now I begin to see!” said the former; “Russia wants Turkey, or rather that part of it on the Dardanelles, and that I suppose is the reason for this trouble. But surely she would not deliberately attempt to deprive the Sultan of his capital?”
“By no means, young sir; the Czar is far too clever for that. He wanted a pretext for war, and one which would appeal to his people; and what more powerful one could he have found than a religious one, that is, one in which those of the Greek Church were shown to be the martyrs, for Russia belongs to that persuasion.
“There was one at hand. The Holy Land, which of course is under the Sultan’s sway, is the home of large numbers of priests and others belonging to the Latin and the Greek Churches, and the Czar promptly demanded that the latter should have more religious privileges than the former, while France, whose interests are with the Latin Church, demanded the very opposite. What was the unhappy Sultan to do? Himself a Mahometan, he could not be expected to favour either of the two infidel sects practising their religion at Jerusalem.
“It was an exceedingly difficult problem, and it is not to be wondered at that he failed to please both parties. The Latins were moderately content, while the Greek Church was roused into a fit of the warmest indignation, and with it the Czar, who at once despatched two army corps over the Turkish frontier and occupied the country between it and the Danube, in the opinion of all right-thinking people an act of monstrous injustice.”
“I should think so indeed!” Phil blurted out. “How could the poor Sultan be expected to satisfy both parties? It was a regular trap.”
“Undoubtedly, undoubtedly, my friend! It was an example of high-handedness never before surpassed,” remarked Mr Shelton gravely. “But still war might have been averted, for the Sultan now agreed to the Czar’s demands, and in the eyes of Europe Russia could not but withdraw.
“Such a course, however, was far from her intentions. With this point gained, she now demanded a protectorate over all subjects of the Greek Church, a suggestion which, if complied with, would have at once led 14,000,000 people resident in Turkey to own the Czar as their ruler, and thus leave the unfortunate Sultan with merely a sprinkling of subjects.
“Turkey might have declared war promptly, but now the Western powers, much to the Czar’s chagrin and anger, intervened. Look at Austria. If Turkey were occupied by Russia, the emperor’s territory would be partially enclosed, and a feeling of insecurity would naturally arise. Therefore he is opposed to the scheme. France has perhaps no very definite reason for opposition, save the upholding of the rights of the Latin Church. But we must remember that she has ever been a belligerent power, and that success in arms would place Louis Napoleon more firmly on a throne at present in a decidedly shaky condition. Also, if she took Russia’s part, she would have England and her fleet to cope with, an item that I can assure you, my young friends, is not to be lightly thought of.
“And now for England. Ever the mainstay of justice and right, and the protector of the oppressed, she has, considerably to the astonishment of everyone, and particularly of Russia, awakened from that long peace enjoyed since Waterloo, and, shaking herself free for the moment from her absorbing interest in trade, has thrown herself heart and soul into the cause of Turkey. With the French, some of our ships sailed to the Bosphorus; and as Russia refused to withdraw her troops from the Danube, the combined fleets entered the Dardanelles and anchored before Constantinople.
“And now comes the crux of the whole thing,” said Mr Shelton, with emphasis. “We are not at war, but our interests are aroused, and our sympathy with Turkey is deep. It wanted only a match to set us flaring, and cause us to engage in a war of what magnitude no one can say, and that match has been applied. On the last day of November a small fleet of Turkish ships, which had anchored at Sinope, close above Constantinople, was destroyed, together with 4000 men, by a fleet of Russian war-vessels. It was a cruel and unnecessary act. Capture would have sufficed. But the fatal deed is done, and now I fancy both England and France are launched into the struggle, for their peoples are clamouring for the punishment of the Czar and his subjects. In any case a few days will determine the matter, and then, my lads, your country will have need of you, and thousands more like you.”
“Then I for one, sir, shall fight all the better and all the harder now that I know exactly what the trouble is!” exclaimed Phil; while Tony gave a grunt of marked approval, showing that if he had failed to grasp exactly the real reason for war, he had at any rate a decided grudge against the Czar and his people, which he would endeavour to satisfy at the earliest opportunity.
“And where do you think the fighting will take place?” continued Phil. “Shall we invade Russia, or will our fleets go in chase of the Russian ships? In that case we soldiers would have precious little to do, and the sailors would come in for all the honour and glory.”
“Rest easy, my young friend,” replied Mr Shelton, with a smile. “Both services will have their hands full, or I shall be much surprised. At present matters point to a campaign on the Danube, while our fleet holds the Dardanelles and the Black Sea; but for all I know Russia may be invaded. In that case Sebastopol is likely to be the port fixed upon for attack. Situated in the Crimea, it is an immense naval and military arsenal, which in itself is a constant menace to Turkey. Look at the map once more and note the position of the Danube and of Sebastopol, you will then more readily see the truth of my words.”
“Don’t matter to me where it is, sir!” exclaimed Tony bluntly; “if it’s war we’ll fight and lick the beggars, see if we don’t; and if it comes to invasion, or whatever yer calls it, well, all the better, I say. ’Tain’t nearly such good fun sticking behind stone walls and keeping fellers out as it is rushing forts and such like things, and turning the garrison out with the end of a bay’net. That’s the boy for ’em. Give me and all my mates a good half-yard of steel at the end of our guns, and see if we don’t make it warm for the Russians. We’ll do as well as the Froggies at any rate.”
“That you will, I am sure,” laughed Mr Shelton, patting him on the back. “Fancy how strange it is that we who have always been fighting with France, who is, as I might say, our natural enemy, should now be side by side with her, and in all probability will soon be fighting for the same object. It will lead to tremendous scenes of emulation, for no British soldier will care to allow a Frenchman to beat him at anything.”
“I should think not, indeed,” Phil snorted. “There was a chap at the school I first went to who was a regular Froggy. His people had come to England to save him from conscription; it would have been the making of him, for he was a regular donkey, conceited and all that; curled his hair and put scent on his handkerchief. Pah! How we disliked that fellow!”
“It sounds as though you had had something to do with him,” said Mr Shelton, with a quizzical smile, “for we were saying that no Englishman would suffer a Frenchman to beat him.”
“Oh – er, yes, there was something like that!” Phil replied, with reddened cheeks. “You see the beggar got so uppish and disagreeable there was no doing anything with him; then, when I called him Froggy, in pure jest, he threw a stump at me, and caught me a crack on the head. I didn’t like that, and – er – ”
“Yes, you did what?” asked Mr Shelton, with the same quizzical smile.
“I licked him till he blubbered,” Phil blurted out shamefacedly, conscious that he had been dragged into saying more than he had at first intended.
“Ha, ha, ha! you licked him till he blubbered,” roared the old gentleman, losing in a moment his appearance of gravity, and beaming all over his face. “You licked him, and a very proper thing too, my friend! But you must not be trying such games now. It would mean a court-martial, or even something more serious. But I must be going now. Bear in mind what I have told you, and be sure of this – war – red war – is at hand. Now good-bye and good luck! – you are just the class of lads that England will want.”
“Thank you, sir! Good-bye!” cried Phil and Tony, saluting the old gentleman. Then, tucking their canes under their arms, they strode out of the building and away to the barracks, discussing as they went the possibility of war, and the share they were likely to take in it.
“I’m going to get a book on Russian!” exclaimed Phil, the day following their visit to the British Museum. “People tell me it is the most difficult of all languages to learn, but I may be able to pick up a few useful words. I remember now that the firm I acted as clerk to did business with another trading with Russian ports, and they had a Russian clerk. I met him once or twice, and I’ll just go along and see what he says about the matter.”
“It’s a good thing, right enough, Phil,” Tony replied, with a shrug, “but it’s far beyond me, as far as the clouds; but you have a try at it, old man, and I’ll be bound you’ll succeed. I never knew yer beat yet.”
Accordingly Phil went off at the first opportunity to see the clerk he had mentioned, and after a chat with him bought a book, and was shown the characters as a first lesson.
“Take my advice,” said the clerk, who was the son of a Russian mother and an English father, and almost entirely English in his ways and thoughts, “and buy a really good map of the country, and a reliable compass. Supposing you get cut off from the troops, it might prove of the greatest service to you. As regards the language, come along to my rooms as often as you like. I am always in about six o’clock, and will be glad to give you a lesson.”
Phil was not slow to take advantage of the offer. Every day he was free from guards and other duties, and had no engagement with Tony to see the sights of London, he repaired to the rooms of his Russian friend, and there worked hard at the language.
If Mr Western could have seen him and his earnestness, he would have been agape with amazement. This his idle adopted son? This the wilful lad who would never settle down to work, and never take a leading place in his class at school? Could this young soldier – this fine, stalwart young fellow (even he would have been obliged to admit it) – who slaved so many hours day and night at the dryest of dry and uninteresting subjects, be really the lad who had always gone contrary to his wishes, the unmanageable boy full of daring and mischief, who had occasioned the vicar of Riddington so many anxious and bitter thoughts? To him it would have been almost beyond belief. His dull and rigidly narrow mind could not have grasped the change. But Joe Sweetman, what would he have said? How he would have chuckled, with just a suspicion of pride and elation, and blurted out: “Didn’t I tell you so. Leave the lad alone. Wild and unmanageable? Pshaw! Look at him now. His heart’s in the right place. He’s got hold of a subject he’s interested in, and he’s got the backbone to stick to it, though it means a lot of hard work.”
And Phil had indeed the backbone and perseverance to continue to work at the language. A month passed, and he had apparently made no progress, and the alphabet was still almost a troublesome maze to him. But when some weeks more had flown by he could join a few words together in the semblance of sense, though he was still far from being able to carry on a conversation. By the middle of February, 1854, the year in which the eventful Crimean war began, he could even acknowledge to himself that he was getting on, and that a little more practice would find him fairly proficient. Never for a moment did he forget this ambition of his, this self-imposed task, to master the most difficult of languages. Who is there who cannot imagine the labour it meant, the constant grinding, the late hours when, beneath a flickering gas-jet or a smoking oil lantern, he opened his book and devoured its contents till his eyes were almost falling from his head? Few, indeed, would saddle themselves willingly with such a labour, but to Phil to take up a subject, however trivial, was to succeed, and that very success was the reward he received. The alphabet and more difficult words having now been mastered, the work was far more pleasant, and invited him to persevere.
“There’s no doubt about it, it is a grind, an awful grind,” he one day admitted in muttered tones to himself. “But I’ll stick to it. It comes easier to me every day, and who knows what the knowledge may do for me? Interpreters will certainly be required, though to imagine myself one is flying rather high.”
On parade, at musketry practice, everywhere he would repeat sentences in low tones, and would attempt to put the orders for the soldiers into Russian. Then, at the first opportunity, he and the clerk who had so befriended him would retire to the latter’s room and there carry on a long conversation, in which no English was admitted on pain of a small fine. Thus, as the days passed, his proficiency increased, till he was almost competent to find his way through the heart of Russia without much difficulty, so far as the language was concerned.
But a far from unexpected interruption occurred. France and England were on the eve of despatching an ultimatum to Russia, and the usually placid life of the Guards was disturbed by orders to embark for active service.