The spirits of both raised by companionship, they rode on side by side, hoping they were nearing Buonaparte. All day they marched, resting themselves and their horses occasionally, but with no food or water for either. It was just beginning to grow dark, when they descried in the distance the huts in which they had passed the night. When they reached the spot, darkness had closed over it. They could see no one, but the welcome challenge "Qui va là?" fell on their ears. The two men replied "Napoleon" and, at the same moment, a light was shown in their faces.
They found that a regiment of Chasseurs occupied the place and that General Buonaparte was with them. The main body was some few hours behind, and ought to be up before the morning.
Buonaparte's orders were that all couriers were to be conducted to him immediately on their arrival, so St. Just at once dismounted and, escorted by a sergeant's guard, made instantly for the General's tent. Two soldiers, with loaded carbines, stood before the entrance, and within could be seen the figure of Buonaparte writing on an old door, propped upon two blocks of stone to form a table.
At the challenge of the sentries, Buonaparte raised his head and saw the little group standing without. "What is it?" he said in a sharp, shrill voice.
"A courier, Sir," replied the sergeant, saluting.
Buonaparte saw and recognized St. Just, who was standing a little behind the soldier. "Ah, from the advance guard at—"
"Beda, Sir."
"Despatches?"
"Delivered, Sir; but these are the reply;" handing in those Dessaix had given him on his return journey.
Buonaparte opened them, glanced at them, then said, "Did you encounter or see any force on your way here? For, on taking possession of this place, we saw many stragglers about in the far distance, apparently part of a large body of Bedouins."
"I cut my way through a band of the enemy—how many I can't say—last night, losing all my escort. Afterwards I fell in with a French infantry officer, whose party had been previously attacked by the same force."
"How many miles away?"
"Between twenty and thirty, Sir."
"Good." Then, rising, Buonaparte walked up and down his tent for a few minutes, his brows together, thinking deeply and evidently forgetful of St. Just's presence. Finally he turned to his impromptu table and wrote a few lines. These he sealed and addressed to the General in command at Alexandria, then handed the paper to St. Just. "Deliver this; join me again as soon as possible."
"Alone, Sir?"
"Yes, unless you can find an escort from Alexandria. Stay! When did you leave General Dessaix?"
"On the 8th in the evening, Sir."
"This is the 10th. You halted last at 11 to-day. Have you a good horse?"
"Yes, sir."
"Set off at six in the morning; it is now ten."
"Yes, sir."
"Go then, in the name of France." St. Just bowed and left the tent.
CHAPTER V
At six o'clock next day St. Just set out, to plough his solitary way across the sandy desert. If it had been dreary on the first occasion, when he had the company of an escort, he found the sandy wastes, now that he was alone, almost unbearable. It was, therefore, with great delight that, after the first few hours of his journey, he encountered the main body of Buonaparte's army crawling like a gigantic snake across his path. But his satisfaction was but momentary, for the sights that met his eyes were heartrending. Horses in a lather of sweat from head to foot and scarce able to stand from fatigue and heat, were being cruelly urged with whip and spur to drag along the heavy guns and ammunition wagons, whose wheels were deeply embedded in the sand and could scarce be got to move. Ever and anon some of the exhausted animals would fall down dead. Then the guns would have to be abandoned, sometimes for hours, until a detachment of infantry had been brought up and transformed into beasts of burden by being yoked to them, when the sluggish march of the artillery would be recommenced.
Often St. Just passed men, who, overcome by fatigue, could no longer walk, and had been left in the wake of the army, to follow afterwards, if they could; if not, to die where they were, of thirst and exhaustion, under the sun's scorching rays.
Many of these poor creatures cried out to him piteously for help; but he was absolutely powerless to relieve them, and, moreover, was the bearer of despatches which he had been charged to deliver with all speed.
Here and there, half buried in the sand, could be seen the putrefying bodies of both men and animals (horses and mules and here and there a camel) that had died, some of want, some of fatigue, some of illness, and a few of Arab wounds. In some cases only a few whitening bones remained of what a few hours before had been creatures instinct with activity and life; the loathsome vultures having picked off all the flesh.
Towards night he halted and, wrapping his cloak around him, he laid himself on the ground, his head resting on his horse's shoulder, the reins tightly knotted to his wrist, and soon dropped asleep, awakening only with the dawn. The next day he met with a terrible disappointment. On gaining the pool where he had intended to give his horse a drink and to replenish his own water-bottle, he found it dry, the marching army having drained it of every drop. With his tongue almost rattling in his mouth, so parched was it, and his poor horse in the same condition, he was riding on dejectedly, when, happening to cast his eyes around, he noticed a cloud of dust upon his left. The French could scarcely be in that direction; the disturbance must be due to Bedouins. At all hazards he must avoid capture; should his despatches fall into the enemy's hands, the consequences would certainly be serious, and might be fatal. He urged his jaded, thirsty steed to pace its best, and the noble animal responded bravely to his call.
He managed to escape the desert horsemen, but this would have availed him little, had not assistance come, for both man and horse were thoroughly pumped out and could proceed no further. St. Just felt his charger sway beneath him, and, to avoid falling with him, threw himself from the saddle only a moment before the exhausted animal rolled over. Then, just when he had resigned himself with all the philosophy he could command to the consciousness that, in a few hours at most, the carrion desert birds would be stripping the flesh from his bones and from his horse's, he heard a muffled tread, and, shortly afterwards, a troop of French Hussars, who were bringing up the rear guard, came in sight.
Seeing the exhausted condition of both rider and horse, and learning from St. Just that he was the bearer of important despatches from Buonaparte to General Kleber at Alexandria, the officer in command of the troop rendered the young aide-de-camp all the assistance in his power and detailed two of his troopers to accompany him on his journey, and to return with him to Buonaparte's headquarters.
After a few hours' rest and a supply of food and water, the young officer and his horse were sufficiently restored to proceed upon their way, and, on the fifth day after leaving General Buonaparte, he, accompanied by the two hussars, entered Alexandria and delivered his despatches to General Kleber.
Two days after, St. Just, with the two hussars for escort, left Alexandria for the second time, bearing reply despatches from Kleber to Buonaparte, and made his way as rapidly as he could to Damanhour, where he expected to find the Commander-in-Chief. This place he reached in two days, but only to find that Buonaparte had gone forward towards Cairo. So St. Just had to follow.
It was reported by patrols that Mourad Bey, who had been recently defeated at Chebreissa, had posted skirmishers on the route to Cairo, to harass, even if they could not check, the French advance.
St. Just, therefore, asked for and obtained from the officer in command at Damanhour, an escort of thirty-three men, in addition to the two he already had, the troopers detailed for the purpose being selected from the squadron that had succored him when in such distress on his way to Alexandria.
Thus accompanied, he pushed on as fast as the horses could be made to go; for this carrying of despatches long distances in such a country was becoming irksome to him, and he longed to be fighting battles again, as he had fought when a lieutenant in Italy under Augereau.
Early on the morning of the 21st, St. Just and his troopers came to a village, where, they had been told by the French commandant at the last post, they would find remounts. Here reports reached them that Buonaparte was heavily engaged at Embabe, the next village, hard by those wondrous pyramids which had been built in the past ages of Egypt's glory.
At this news, they hurried forward; and soon could hear the distant sounds of musketry and cannon borne from afar upon the still, clear air. Both men and horses were excited by the noise and, though it was necessary to husband the strength of their fresh mounts, for they might have to take part in the action then proceeding, the men were bent upon joining their comrades with all speed.
Their route lay a little to the left, the Nile being on their right; but, judging from the firing that the French were occupying a portion of the road to Gizeh, St. Just and his men rode to the right, so as to cut off an angle.
It was now noon and the sun's rays were beating down pitilessly upon their heads when they came upon the first signs of the conflict.
They had drawn up their panting horses upon a little knoll to recover their wind, before bearing their riders on to the battle field below; and St. Just, on dismounting, had plenty of leisure to observe the scene. Ordering his hussars and their horses to lie down, that they might be as little conspicuous as possible, St. Just crept forward and, gaining a point of vantage, watched the movements of the combatants. Thick clouds of smoke, through which at frequent intervals could be seen streaks of flame, followed by the report of guns, hovered over the Frenchmen on his left; while, on the right, gleaming in the sunlight, were the tents of the Mameluke camp. Beyond, rose the distant banks of the Nile, and further away the huts of Boulac, a suburb of the city of Cairo. Dotted about the plain were swarms of Arab horsemen, their bright mail sparkling. A body of them were massing into formation in a last attempt to break the French squares.
St. Just had seen enough. It was plain to him that, so soon as the sun should have declined, General Buonaparte, knowing that the horses of the Mamelukes must be tired from their repeated charges, would launch his cavalry against them in the hope of cutting in two the mass of horsemen. Accordingly, he resolved to try to gain the French lines; but, to do so, it would be necessary to cut their way through a body of the enemy who were drawn up between them and their goal. Creeping cautiously back to his men, he gave the order to mount. Then, having drawn them up four deep in a square, he put himself at their head, and led them round the further side of the knoll; then bade them charge the Mamelukes. When within forty yards of the opposing squadron, the hussars fired their pistols, then, like a torrent, dashed upon their enemy. Now, though the charge was a courageous act, it was also a very foolish one, for their foes were quite a hundred strong, and considering that the hussars' pistols had been fired at the gallop, certainly not more than twenty out of the possible thirty-six shots could have killed a man apiece, and probably not half that number. For thirty-six men to attack nearly, if not quite, a hundred, was a reckless act; but St. Just's blood was up, and so they charged. He hardly knew what followed, except that there was a general mêlée and clashing of weapons; then, somehow, he found himself on the ground. His next impression was that he was being pulled to his feet, and that a French voice was saying in his ear, "Diable! Monsieur, that was a fine charge; but I thought none of you would have come out of it."
St. Just, whose head was still confused, stumbled up, and found himself in the midst of a squadron of the Guards, and that the person who had addressed him was the young lieutenant in whose company he had ridden on his first journey across the desert.
"Ah, Garraud, my friend, we are quits now; I pulled you through last time; your men have done the same for me on this occasion."
"It's superb!" The exclamation was drawn from both by the magnificently reckless way their enemies were charging. Men were falling in heaps around them. One man at their feet had just had his stomach ripped up with a curved sword, and lay shrieking in his agony, while his intestines gushed out upon the ground. A stallion, badly hurt, was biting and tearing the wounded men around him; while, across his body, five of the barbarians were fighting tooth and nail within arm's length of the square. Here again could be seen men hurling themselves and their horses upon the French bayonets, dying agonizing deaths only too gladly, if, for one instant, they could find themselves within the square.
Meanwhile St. Just had not been idle. A man was advancing from amidst the host of warriors, apparently bearing a charmed life. He was mounted upon a splendid gray stallion, whose beauty aroused the envy, as much as the superb horsemanship and courageous bearing of the rider excited the admiration of St. Just. The youthful warrior, having failed to break the square, retired for a few yards, then coming on with a yell, he leaped it and landed in the center. But he paid for his rashness with his life. Almost before the horse's feet had touched the ground, St. Just had fired. The next instant, he had mounted the Arab's horse, and shouting "Au revoir! I am off to Buonaparte," in imitation of the late owners tactics, he leaped out of the square.
A roar of despair and rage went up from the opposing Arabs, but almost instantly it was drowned by a ringing cheer from the French. St. Just landed upon a group of horsemen who were being charged, at the same instant, by Dessaix and his cavalry.
"El J: The fiend!" the Bedouins cried, at his sudden appearance in their midst, smiting right and left, his horse almost as excited as himself.
Utterly demoralized, their superstition, for the moment, getting the better of them, they could make no stand against the French, who rode them down like sheep. Though falling by hundreds, the French cavalry accomplished their mission and separated the two bodies of Mamelukes, thus relieving the hard pressed guns.
And so the fight went on; frenzied now, on the Mamelukes' part, for they were fighting in despair. Another hour and they were flying, leaving Buonaparte master of the way to Cairo.
Meanwhile St. Just had ridden past the rear of the French army and was making for the center, where he found Buonaparte sitting motionless on his horse, watching the battle. St. Just—both he and his horse begrimed with dust—presented himself before the General, a little pale with fatigue, and with a slight sword cut on his cheek, his head bare, and his saber-tache riddled with bullets. But his eyes were sparkling with success when he handed to Buonaparte his despatches. "From General Kleber, Sir, from Alexandria."
Buonaparte continued to fix his eyes upon the battle and made no attempt to open the papers, holding them in one hand, while, with the other, he placed a telescope to his eye. No one spoke, all intently watching the man who, it was beginning to dawn on them, was no ordinary general.
At last he spoke. Turning to an aide near him, he shut up his field glass with a snap. "Tell the right wing to charge." Then, addressing himself to the others, "Gentlemen, the battle is ended; we can march upon Cairo to-morrow. You, Sir," addressing St. Just, "I thank in the name of France and of the Army."
And, even while he spoke, the sun hid itself below the horizon, and the pall of coming night settled upon the field of blood and the disheartened enemy now in full retreat.
CHAPTER VI
Throughout the night of the 21st of July, the darkness was intermittently illumined by the flashes of musketry which from time to time resounded from the direction of the village of Gizeh, whither Mourad Bey had retreated with the remainder of his Mamelukes—about two thousand—leaving his infantry to their fate in the intrenched camp on the bank of the Nile. St. Just passed the night under the shadow of the sphinx, having, like many others, no proper place of rest—for the army was without tents—and too tired to think of anything but sleep.
Early on the following morning he received the order to mount and proceed at the head of a squadron of Guides, about fifty strong, to help the detachment which was pressing on towards Gizeh, and, if possible, afterwards to advance to Cairo. Accordingly, mounted on the gray stallion which had stood him in such stead on the previous day, he placed himself at the head of his squadron and set out at a smart trot for Gizeh. The infantry, who were attacking the place, and to whose aid he had been sent, had found great difficulty in advancing, for the road to Gizeh had been one of the hottest points in the battle of the previous day. At last, however, the outskirts of the village had been reached, and here it was that St. Just and his Guides came up with them. Mourad Bey made repeated dashes, hoping to lead to victory the dispirited remnants of his followers; but it was not to be; St. Just and his Guides hurled themselves through the sea of fire—the blazing houses—that separated them from the enemy's ranks. Despite the clouds of pungent smoke and the myriads of sparks that fell upon them, they forced their way, supported by the infantry who had taken fresh heart at their arrival, with such vigor that, after a short but sharp encounter, they put the Mamelukes to rout. That night General Buonaparte slept at Gizeh in the Bey's country house.
St. Just and his troopers, now reduced to thirty, followed in the Bey's track to the Nile bank, but were prevented from crossing the river by the destruction of the bridge of boats that had led to the Mameluke fleet. Thus checked in his advance, he rested his men in a hut hard by the river side, while he considered what course he should pursue.
Before he had come to a decision, he noticed a good deal of activity on board the vessels in the river, and that, from some of them, smoke was beginning to ascend. Instantly he understood what was going on. They were firing them, to prevent their falling into the hands of the French.
Now St. Just concluded that, if the Egyptians thought the vessels worth the burning, there must be valuable cargo on board, and that they were worth the saving. Forthwith he resolved to do his best with that intent.
Leaving half his men and all the horses, posted at the hut, he marched on foot with the remainder to the river. Several boats were moored along the bank, and one of these they seized, and in it they rowed down the river towards the burning dahabeahs, St. Just's intention being to cut some of them adrift, in the hope of afterwards capturing them.
But he had reckoned without his host, for the vessels had been too successfully set alight. There was a strong wind blowing, and the flames and smoke were such that he could not get near enough to cast the vessels from their moorings. Again and again he and his brave men renewed the attempt, but only to be as often driven back by the scorching heat. But, worse even than the flames, the enemy, who had marked them while they were some distance from the vessels, poured in a deadly fire of musketry. One by one his men kept dropping, and St. Just soon saw that it was no longer a question of capturing the enemy's ships, but of saving their own lives.
Meanwhile the ships burned furiously, producing such a light that the French troops at Gizeh could see dimly amid the crimson gleams the distant minarets and gilded cupolas of Cairo.
St. Just gave orders to row back to their starting point, close to which he had posted the remainder of his troop.
But soon he found that their retreat in that direction was cut off; for, while he and his men had been busy trying to cut adrift the burning, as well as the yet unlighted, dahabeahs, swarms of Arabs had put off in boats and had collected in their rear.
To turn the boat's head round and row towards Cairo seemed the only thing to be done, and even the risk of this was terrible, their safety depending upon General Buonaparte's having captured the city. His fifteen men were now reduced to eight, seven having fallen beneath the Mamelukes' fusillade. St. Just sat in the stern of the boat steering, pondering meanwhile on the peril of their situation and their chances of escape. He knew that some of the French troops were already moving on Cairo; and, from scraps of conversation picked up round the camp fires on the previous night, he entertained little doubt that Buonaparte would enter the city, either by storming it, or otherwise, at dawn on the following day.
Now if he, St. Just, could get into Cairo, with his men, unseen, and quietly take possession of some house, they would probably be able to maintain themselves secure in it till General Buonaparte's arrival. And this was what he set himself to do. But how to do it was the difficulty. The light from the conflagration on the river was so great that, were they to attempt to land in their French uniforms, they would be instantly discovered by the lawless and turbulent hordes scattered up and down the river banks, plundering and fighting and murdering in all directions, and would be quickly set upon, overcome and killed.
Their position was desperate, and desperate remedies were required; and the plan St. Just evolved was desperate, and depended also on chance for its accomplishment. Having explained it to his men, he ordered them to lie up under the shadow of some vessels moored in mid-stream and as yet untouched by the fire, just keeping the boat from drifting, and to wait for the chance of capturing a passing boat with Arabs on board, his intention being to massacre the crew for the sake of their clothes, which his own men would then put on; then they were to watch their opportunity to get ashore in the confusion that everywhere prevailed.
There is an old proverb to the effect that all things come to those who wait, if they but wait long enough; and so it was in this case. The men were sitting listlessly, tired of their inactivity, when a sudden cry brought them back to attention. Bearing down upon them was a large boat manned by about a dozen Arabs. A shaft of light cast from some burning wreckage floating by upon the encrimsoned waters in their direction, had betrayed to the approaching boat that in one of their own craft were some of the hated invaders. It was their fierce cry that awakened St. Just and his crew to a conviction of their danger. Ping! Ping! went the bullets from the Arab matchlocks, and at the same moment St. Just shouted, "Only two men row; the rest lie in the boat and fire at the Arab rowers. Take careful aim and don't throw away a shot. Your lives depend upon it."
The men obeyed at once. Crack, crack. Two of the Frenchmen had fired, and two of the Arabs threw up their arms and fell in a huddled heap at the bottom of their dhow. Almost immediately a wild volley was fired by the Arabs, and one of the Frenchmen, whose head had been exposed to the light, toppled over the side of the boat into the Nile, a bullet in his brain; giving his comrades a brief view of his face, ere he sank beneath the waters in the ruddy light.
St. Just's measures were prompt and decisive, and his voice rang out like a clarion on the night. "A volley, all of you; then pick up your oars and row for them as hard as you can go."
The order was as promptly obeyed. The seven shots flew straight and, before the Arabs could recover from the confusion they had occasioned, the French picked up their oars, crashed into them and boarded them. A few moments later, there drifted down the Nile an empty boat; while, pulling for the distant domes, which marked the city of Cairo, were eight men dressed as Arabs and speaking French.