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Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"

<h3> CHAPTER XVII. THE HUSSARS OF TENGINSKI </h3> How we swept the land of Kisliar, continued the Circassian captain; how we baffled the foe beneath the towers of Dargo; how Schamyl the Immortal did prodigies of valour at Unsorilla and destroyed the army of Count Woronzoff, the Governor of New Russia, one hundred and fifty thousand in number, whose bones yet lie in the forest of Itzkeri; how we fought with desperation, neither asking nor giving quarter, and how we hurled the Russians from the slopes of the Caucasus back upon the shores of the Kuban, where they lay unburied save by the jaws of the wolf and eagle, torn and disembowelled by hungry dogs, all Europe knows full well; and how successive armies, full of barbarous pride and military and religious enthusiasm, horsemen, artillery, and infantry—hussars and Cossacks, Kurds and Tartar hordes, who had stooped their necks to Russia's iron yoke, entered the valleys of Circassia, valleys which seem but dark chasms or fissures where the branches of the Koissons roar and leap from rock to rock in northern Daghestan, and there they perished, too, beneath the bullet and the arrow, the spear and sling of the unconquerable Tcherkesses. It was my brother Selim who slew General Woinoff; it was Karolyi who stormed the redoubts and spiked his cannon: and it was I who hewed off the head of the gallant soldier Passek, and bore it for three days on my spear. In this year of the Christians, 1840, I commanded that portion of the Circassian troops which besieged the Russians in the fort of Mikhailov. They defended themselves with the blind fury of men who foresaw their doom was death! Selim pressed them with three thousand men on one side; Karolyi, with the same number, pressed them on the other; while I, with a chosen band of four thousand archers, slingers, and musketeers, plied them from every quarter with incessant missiles. Selim cut off the sluices which supplied them with water, and Karolyi stormed their outworks, tore down their stockades, and beheaded every defender whom they caught by the lasso. But Heaven has put much valour into the hearts of these infidels; hence, though reduced to the verge of starvation (having picked the bones of their last horse, and stewed their boot-tops and leather shakoes), their commander, Ivan Carlovitch, colonel of the Tenginski Hussars, resolved to make one gallant effort to escape, for his soldiers had with them several old standards, which the Russians regard as almost holy. His garrison was composed of the 37th or Tenginski Grenadiers; the 38th or Novoginski Regiment, which carried the famous banner of St. George, the same that had been with their predecessors at the passage of the Alps, and which waved on the field of Trebbia, where they fought under Suvaroff. He had also two battalions of the Imperial Guard, whose tattered and shot-riven standards had waved on many a bloody plain, and been clenched in the dying grasp of many a gallant man. Their desire of preserving these trophies was only second to the hope of escape; for the standard is ever the palladium of a regiment, even as the National Insignia are the palladium of a free people, and, as such, should be preserved from degradation. Perceiving that, fearless of his cannon—those terrors of the simple Circassians, who name them the great pistols of the Czar—I had made every disposition for an assault, which must have been successful, the valiant Ivan Carlovitch led out his shattered garrison among us, sword in hand; and, favoured by a dark and tempestuous night, escaped with a few, but a few only; for by sabre and by musket we made a fearful slaughter among the soldiers of the Novoginski Regiment, and taking their famous banner of St. George, tore it to fragments, and spitting upon these, trampled them to the earth in blood and mire. Thanks to the Prophet and to my coat of mail, uncounted balls and bayonets touched me without harm. Above the roar of that red musketry which lit the darkness with its streaky gleams; above the howling of the wind, which tore through every mountain gorge; above the cheers of the desperate, and the shrieks of the dying, the wild, shrill, and unearthly war-cry of the Circassians ascended to the throne of Mohammed; and the approach to the breach was like the bridge of hell, as we rushed through the battered gates to take possession of the fortress; but at the moment that the 'enceinte,' or interior wall which surrounded the place, and was composed of bastions faced with brick, was crowded by our flushed and exulting warriors, a tremendous explosion was heard the earth gaped, and rocked, and rent; then it rose beneath our feet; a broad, hot, scorching blaze of fire surrounded me, and blown up by a concealed mine of powder, the whole fort of Mikhailov, with more than two thousand Circassians, was torn from its foundations, and swept on the whirlwind along the mountain slopes. Struck down by a stone in the moment of victory I became senseless, and remember no more of that night of horrors! Heaven, I have said, has put great valour into the hearts of these unbelievers. Archipp Ossepoff, the same grenadier of the Tenginski Regiment whom I had wounded by an arrow and from whom I had rescued Basilia, volunteered to remain behind his comrades; and in order to prevent the fort from being of service to the confederated princes, laid his hands solemnly on the standard of St. George, and promised to Ivan Carlovitch, that he would fire the magazine—a noble act of self-sacrifice and military enthusiasm. This man of course perished with Mikhailov, and with our people; but in order to commemorate this act of valour and devotion, the Emperor Nicholas ordained that his name should be continued on the muster-roll of the Tenginski Grenadiers; that it should be called daily on parade, and that on the sergeant summoning "Archipp Ossepoff," the next grenadier on the list should answer— "Dead at Mikhailov for the glory of Russia!" When I recovered, I found myself lying on the hillside, many yards from the fort, the site of which resembled the crater of the volcano; for it seemed as if the powder had rent, torn, and blackened the bosom of the earth, in its efforts to efface the fort for ever. The free soft wind of the Caucasus was passing over the ruins; above me the sky was bright, and blue, and sunny; the birds were twittering among the mangled bodies of the slain; and about those ghastly heaps, or between their piles of arms and limbered field-pieces, the Russian soldiers (whom the flight of our people had left in possession of the locality) were laughing and singing, as they drained their canteens of sour quass, and prepared to cook their breakfasts, and to bury the dead. Around us, the scenery was beautiful; there were summer woods in all their heavy foliage; the terraced vineyards of lighter green, screened by the dense and wiry pine; little cottages and pretty mosques, with gilded minars shining in the sun; bright streams dancing down the rocks; the sea, blue as the sky and rippling gently in the wind; while in the back-ground of all, rose hills piled up on hills, until their steeps reached Heaven, and every peak was capped with pure white snow, or tipped by a golden gleam. Close by me a group of Russian officers were seated around one, who, by his dark green uniform, his heavy silver epaulettes and jack-boots; his varnished leather helmet surmounted by an eagle; his enormous mustache and cruel expression of eye, I knew to be Ivan Carlovitch; and I lay still and feigning death, believing that my fate would be sealed, if life was discovered in me. They were loud in their praises of the Circassian leader—myself—and expressed a great desire to capture me; others added their less friendly hopes that I had perished in the explosion. "It is fortunate, however," said Carlovitch, "that we have taken his two brothers, Selim and Karolyi; they, at least, have a long march before them towards the north; and, believe me, that among the snows there, with a chain to drag, and the occasional prick of a Cossack lance in the rear, their hot rebellious blood will soon be cooled in Siberia, and rendered mild as commissariat quass." Under their shaggy beards the officers laughed at this poor joke, which made my heart almost die within me, for it acquainted me, that my two brothers, Selim and Karolyi, were captives, and that Siberia would be their doom. A soldier now approached to announce that the body of Archipp Ossepoff had been found, shattered, scorched, and sorely mangled, but still recognisable by the medals which he had won in the Polish war. "Then let him be buried apart from all the rest," said Carlovitch, "with all honour, and let a cross mark the spot; but first, let us put all these fellows who are lying about here under ground, before the sun attains its noon-day heat." While lying there, receiving an occasional kick from the passing soldiers, who had long since stripped me of my splendid arms, armour, and ornaments, how terrible were my thoughts when the fierce, rough, and merciless Cossacks proceeded to open a trench beside me, and dug it deep to receive the dead. I endeavoured to stifle reflection, believing that my last hour had come; and after praying—for prayer is the pillar of religion, even as the sword is the true key of paradise—I bent my thoughts upon Basilia, who was far away at Soudjack Kaleh, and seated then perhaps in her rose garden, fanning herself with feathers, and weeping for the poor Osman she would never again behold on earth. At last the grave was finished, and one by one the dead were flung therein, and laid in rows head and foot alternately; how heavily they fell, with their lifeless limbs and clanking accoutrements! Suddenly I felt myself seized by the neck and heels, and before I could utter a sound, they flung me into that ghastly trench on the gashed and bloody heap below, and then the shovelled earth flew fast over me. "Stop—halt!" cried Ivan Carlovitch, who was sitting on the sward close by, smoking a magnificent pipe; "by St. George, that uppermost Tcherkesse is alive yet!" "A matter easily repaired, my colonel!" said a Russian, raising his shovel like a battle-axe to cleave my head. "Beware, I say!" thundered Carlovitch, and at his voice the bearded soldiers cowered like slaves before a king; "fling him out, lay him on the sward, and bring here a canteen of quass." This sharp, bitter draught revived me, and my native pride coming to my aid, I stood erect, and boldly confronted the imperialist. "Who the devil are you?" he asked I replied, proudly,— "Osman Rioni, the son of Mostapha. I might have concealed my rank, but I scorn to lie, even unto a race of liars." Joy flashed in the cruel and cunning eyes of Carlovitch at this announcement; his surprise and satisfaction at the importance of his third prisoner were too great to leave space for anger at my speech. He smiled, and said,— "Tcherkesse, your wants and your wounds, if you have any, shall be faithfully and kindly attended to; when in better humour I shall see you again, having a little message to you from the emperor. Take him away." I was conducted to an ancient tomb, under the dome of which I found a Cossack guard, surrounding my two brothers Selim and Karolyi, with several other Circassians, who were all suffering more or less from wounds or scorches ha the explosion. All were dejected, and my appearance among them increased their unhappiness. We communed in whispers, and formed our plans for flight on the first opportunity. All that night we remained in the cold and dreary tomb, which before morning some of our poor companions exchanged for an actual grave, for they died of their undressed wounds; but about sunrise, we were drawn out by the Cossacks, who truncheoned us with their lances, driving us like a herd of cattle; and then their pioneers proceeded to dig a grave under the dome, which was the resting-place of an ancient king, a proceeding which we beheld with horror, for every strict Mussulman deems sacred for ever the little spot of earth which forms the last resting-place of a departed being. Then the sound of muffled drums rolled upon the wind and the wail of the Muscovite dead march, as the funeral of Archipp Ossepoff approached; the solemnity of the scene impressed us deeply, and we forgot that it was by the mingled treachery and stern devotion of this determined soldier we had lost Mikhailov and our liberty together. Six grenadiers of the Tenginski Regiment bore on their shoulders the coffin, the lid of which was off; a veil of fine linen covered the body, which was dressed in uniform, with cross-belts, boots, gloves, epaulettes of red worsted and copper medals. The head was borne forward, not the feet, as in other countries. Then came four soldiers, bearing the coffin lid, on which lay the leather helmet, the musket, and knapsack of the deceased; then followed the regiment of Tenginski Grenadiers, marching with their arms reversed, and preceded by a grand military band of brass trumpets and muffled drums. In front of all marched a priest of the Russian Greek Church, attired in magnificent vestments of muslin, gold, and embroidery. His aspect was venerable; his white beard was full and flowing; he chaunted as he went, and sprinkled frankincense upon the path. A prayer, a roll upon the drums, and a flourish of instruments with three volleys closed the ceremony, and there lies Archipp Ossepoff in the tomb of a Circassian prince; but his memory as a brave grenadier is still cherished, as I have related, by the orders of the emperor, and in the traditions of his comrades. God rest that gallant spirit; he died for his country, even as I would have died for mine. Pining for freedom and for the presence of Basilia, dreading I scarcely knew what—but banishment to Siberia more than anything else, for that had been but a living death and a separation for ever from my country and my love—three dreary months rolled over me, and with my two brothers I still found myself a prisoner with the Russian army of the Caucasus, which marched along the left bank of the Kuban towards the Sea of Azov, and consequently nearer to my home. One day Colonel Carlovitch sent for me, and again his face wore that deep and cunning smile which so closely resembled a leer; for his eyes were cold and snaky, even as his heart was stern and cruel. "I have sent for you, my valiant Tcherkesse," said he, politely, "to make you a tempting offer from our beneficent father the emperor. It is this. If you will enter the Russian service, all your father's possessions from Marinskoi to the mouth of the Kisselbash River will be restored to you, with the title of prince—neither of which can you ever hope to regain by the impious sword you have drawn against the house of Romanoff and the cause of Holy Russia." I rejected the offer with the scorn it merited, and reminded the tempter, in the words of our "Declaration of Independence," how many of our children had been stolen; how many of our princes had thus been lured away; how many sons of nobles taken as hostages, and then butchered in cold blood; how many noble houses had been reduced and crushed by Russian treason and by Russian treachery; and lifting up my hands, while I turned my face towards Mecca, I was about to take a solemn vow, when interrupting me, he said, with an icy smile,— "Enough, Osman Rioni—swear not—'t is needless! To-morrow you and your brothers will commence the long, long march to Siberia." At these words my soul trembled, and my head fell upon my breast. The Russian officer still smiled and continued to polish the eagle on his helmet, with his leather glove, while whistling the popular waltz of the Duchess Olga. Siberia! With that name, hope, love, liberty, my country and her cause sank, and snow-covered wastes, with chains and stripes, despair and death, rose up before me. If once I reached Siberia, I should live the life of the hopeless, and die the death of the despairing; and my brothers—my poor brothers! The alternative was terrible, but in the Russian service we should daily have chances of escape to our native mountains; so I accepted his offer in the name of myself, Selim, and Karolyi. "I knew that you would think better of it," said Carlovitch, sitting down in his tent, and writing a memorandum; "thenceforward from this day, you are a captain in the Tenginski Hussars, and your brothers shall be the lieutenants of your troop. Allow me to present you with a horse which was taken at Mikhailov. You shall fight against the Tartars, not your own people; but to-morrow I have a piece of service to propose to you. Come here after morning parade or at noon, and I shall tell you all about it—meantime adieu." With a heart full of bitterness I left him, and careless of the Cossacks, who still watched me, I took up a handful of gravel and flung it towards his painted tent, spying, as Mohammed did at Bedr,— "A curse upon thee, Muscovite—and a curse be on every hair of the cur that begot thee! May thy face be confounded for ever!" Whichever way I turned, his cold smile seemed before me; but when I reached the tent in which my brothers were confined, great was my pleasure to find my favourite charger Zupi led up to the door by a hussar, and I kissed and embraced my old friend, for we Mussulmen deem the horse as the noblest of animals next to man; and the Koran says, that the beasts which traverse earth and air are creatures like ourselves—they are all written in the Book, and shall appear at the last day; so when I die, I hope to take my faithful Zupi with me to paradise, even as Ezra took his ass, after she had ceased to bray for a hundred years. Like myself, at the first proposition of taking service under the abhorred emperor, my brothers were full of fierce scorn; but when I had calmly placed my views before them, showing that we had no alternative but military service, with its chances of escape on one hand, and perpetual slavery, with its stripes on the other, they condescended to accept the lieutenantcies of my troop; and the next day—oh, may it be accursed!—saw us attired in the green uniform of the Tenginski Hussars, and on parade with Menschikoff's division of the Caucasian army. In camp around us were bivouacked thousands of the Russian infantry in their long great-coats and flat round caps; the Cossacks of the Don with their fleet, rough, and active horses, and all armed with long lances; the horse regiments of Tchernemorski glittering with jewels and embroidery, and the Imperial Guard in their magnificent uniform. Around us rang the clank of the armourer's anvil, the springing of ramrods and fixing of flints; the limbering of artillery and powder-waggons; the galloping of aides-de-camp; the hewing down of palisades, and the plaiting up of fascines, all of which told us of preparations making for the subjugation of our country, and we were amid it all, attired in the Russian uniform! At noon I sought the tent of Carlovitch. "My colonel," said I, veiling my boiling hatred under a calm exterior, as with a solemn salaam I raised a hand to the front of my fur hussar cap; "you had a duty to propose to me?" "Yes, my stubborn Tcherkesse; I am glad to find that you have so easily learned the task of obedience, as without it an army sinks into a rabble. Well, the duty is this. There is an old fellow at Soudjack Kaleh, who for some time past has traded with the Tartars in various ways, and latterly with Turks in salted fish and pretty women, both of which commodities he exports largely to Stamboul, to the ancient city of Trebizonde, and to Sinope." My heart began to leap at these words. "You mean Abdallah ibn Obba." "The same; but you start—do you know him?" "Intimately," said I; "and your purpose, O son of a slave!" I had almost added. "Well, Captain Rioni, this respectable old Tcherkesse is now bargaining for the sale of a cargo of slave girls for the Turkish market, and a small Stambouli craft, which has long baffled the pursuit of our steam corvettes and the row-boats of our Kreposts, is now concealed in some creek near Mezip. Unfortunately all our vessels are over on the Crimean side, otherwise they would soon have found those Turkish swine, who come to steal the subjects of our father the emperor." Carlovitch gave another of his cold smiles, for he perceived how my hot Circassian blood revolted on hearing my people called the subjects of his emperor I asked haughtily,— "Your orders, Colonel Carlovitch?" "You will select fifty of the Tenginski Hussars, and as you and your brothers must know the country well, search every creek and cranny of the coast until the Turkish ship is found. She will be safely beached somewhere, and when discovered, burn her; cut the throats of the Turks, and bring the cargo of girls here. You shall have a couple of the prettiest for your trouble. The daughter of old Abdallah is among them—Basilia, commonly known as the flower of the Abassians. Archipp Ozepoff nearly brought me that girl once before, but some rascal pierced him by an arrow. Take especial care of her, for I am resolved that no great bison of a Turk shall ever call her slave. No, no, her bright eyes will sparkle all the brighter among the green uniforms and silver epaulettes of our Tenginski Hussars. See to all this; you march in an hour, and till you return, farewell." Taking up a pen he resumed a dispatch which my arrival had interrupted; and after standing for some time, overwhelmed by confusion and the misery of my own thoughts, I withdrew to the foot of a tree, and sat down to reflect on the strange duty I had to perform, and the startling tidings I had just heard. The image of my beautiful Basilia—for I assure you, gentlemen, that the Circassian maid is the most perfect and lovely creation of God—a prisoner, a slave on board of a slave ship, and consigned a helpless victim of the lust of the licentious Osmanli filled my soul with a horror so great that I forgot my present situation in my anxiety to discover this secret ship, to free her, and to put to the edge of the sword all who were concerned in a transaction so infamous. I saw the whole affair now. The loss of the rich argosy on the Isle of Serpents had brought the difficulties of Abdallah to a crisis, and to retrieve his broken fortune he had sold his only daughter to the Turks! I invoked the curse of the Prophet, and of the twelve Imaums on his avarice; and now my only fear was great that the Turks might launch their boat and escape me: thus it was that with an ardour such as I never thought to feel at the head of Russian troops, I rode from the camp at the head of fifty hussars, with my two brothers by my side; and we galloped along the sea-shore, with all our brilliant appointments glittering in the splendour of the setting sun of Asia. "Basilia, my pure, my beautiful! this night may make thee mine," thought I; "one stroke of a sabre may give what thy father would not have sold to me, perhaps, for a million of piastres." I am ashamed to own that our Circassian beauties too often exchange with joy the penury of their fathers' cottages and the hardships of their frugal mountain homes, for the luxury and delight of the Stambouli Kiosks and seraglios. From early childhood their ears are filled, and their warm imaginations fired, with ideas of the riches and pleasure of these places, and by the stories of their mothers, or more generally their aunts, who have returned (when their Osmanli lords grew weary of their faded charms) loaded with magnificent jewels, with purses of sequins, and wardrobes of the richest stuffs the world can produce, and with many a tale to tell of the distinguished part they had played by their native superiority of intellect over the ponderous and dreamy Asiatic. To purchase our girls the Turkish vessels row by night along the shore, and seek some wooded creek where they lie concealed from the steamers and cruisers of the Russian Black Sea fleet, and from the squadrons of Cossack row-boats attached to the Kreposts; then the bargain is concluded, and the girls, who are always the most beautiful daughters of serfs and freemen, are embarked, after a month, perhaps, has been spent in bartering and chaffering between the merchants on one hand, and their parents on the other.* * It is calculated that one vessel out of six is taken. In the winter of 1843-4, twenty-eight ships left the coast of Asia Minor for Circassia, to purchase girls; twenty-three returned safely; three only were burned by the Russians, and two were swallowed by the waves.—WAGNER As the distance increased between us and the Russian camp my brothers looked with longing eyes towards our native hills, between whose misty peaks a flood of golden light was falling on the waving woods and on the rolling sea; and now they began to whisper and exchange glances of intelligence. Their minds were full of the pledge we had lately made to ourselves, that we would fly the hated yoke of Russia on the first opportunity; but this was no easy task, believe me, watched as we were by our own suspicious soldiers. At this time my whole soul was full of Basilia, and in the hope of freeing, of winning, and of loving her, even Circassia and her wrongs were forgotten for a time—God of the Prophet, but only for a time! By a telescope I could see afar off the wild woods in which I had wandered when a boy, and the familiar mountain peaks up which I had clambered when fighting with the Muscovite riflemen, or hunting the boar and jerboa. I could see the bright gleam of steel and the flashing of chain armour between the shady oaks; for there armed bands were hovering, and there the Tartar bow, the Albanian gun, the Circassian lance, and the crooked sabre, awaited the Muscovite invader; and there the holy banner of the twelve stars waved above the tent of the glorious Schamyl. Watched as we were by the very men we led, flight, as I have said, was hopeless; but then I had no thought of flight even when within a cannon-shot of armed Circassian bands which we could see with their camels laden with women, children, and household goods, clambering up the hills to avoid the Kalmuck scouts and Cossack foragers. As the night darkened we saw lurid flames shooting up between the mountain clefts; and while our fierce hussars muttered in guttural Russ and laughed under their matted beards, the hearts of my brothers and myself grew sad, for we knew that the Tchernemorski lances were spreading woe and desolation in the homes of our people. We searched every little bay, inlet, and river as we passed along the beautiful coast from Anapa to Soudjack Kaleh, a fortress which was then half in ruins, as General Williamoff had left it after storming its defences at the head of fifteen thousand men. It seemed now so lonely and so silent that no one could imagine the roar of war had once awoke its echoes, for the flowers of the arbutus, the rhododendron, and many other plants, most of them aromatic, filled the air with perfume as they grew in luxuriance on its battered walls, or twining round the old cannon's mouth as it lay half sunk among the stones and grass, or wreathing the bare skulls and white ribs of the dead on whose unburied bones, bleached by the sunshine and the storm, devouring dogs and mountain wolves had battened. Evening had closed when we bivouacked near the beach, unbitted our horses, lighted our pipes, and sent round our cups of quass to wash down the black ration, bread and salt beef broiled among the embers till it was encrusted with ashes and brine; and we were just composing ourselves for the night, when my sergeant, a cunning and active Cossack, who had crept a mile or two along the shore alone, announced to me that he had seen some suspicious lights in a little creek of the bay of Koutloutzi. "Mount and march," was the order, and favoured by a brilliant moon, beneath whose light the Euxine rolled like a flood of silver at the base of the steep Circassian hills, we rode round the margin of this circular bay, and ascended the beautiful vale of Mezip, towards where my sergeant asserted he had seen the lights. Halting our party he and I dismounted, and, taking only our swords and pistols, crept cautiously through a thicket towards where a river entered the bay, and such a place we knew would be the most probable rendezvous of the Turks with the slave merchant. The foliage was dense and dark overhead, for in this district the sturdy oak, the beech, and the chestnut grew to the water's edge, and the cherry-tree, the fig, and the wild olive were all in full bloom. It was a savage place. Toads croaked among the reeds, and rearing serpents hissed among the sedges of the river, which brawled over a ledge of rocks and fell into the bay, while the yellow-coated and weasel-like suroke whistled on the branches of the pine, and the fleet jerboa fled before us from its lair like an evil spirit. Suddenly we saw a gleam of light, and heard the sound of voices. A few paces more brought us to the brow of a wooded bank, at the base of which we saw a number of Turkish sailors seated round a fire, smoking, drinking raki, and making merry, while one of their number, a little humpbacked fellow, with a hooked nose and enormous beard, sang to them, and twangled on a lute. They were sixteen in number (I counted them carefully), and all fierce-looking fellows, with enormous noses and mustachoes. Large trowsers, dirty red tarbooshes, and red shawl-girdles stuck full of daggers and pistols. Most of them had cuts and scars or patches on their dusky faces, and all had a savage and sinister aspect, as the red gleams of the pinewood fire fell on them. The captain was particularly happy; as he believed, that if the Sultan Abdul-Medjid did but once see Basilia, the fortunes of all who had a share in bringing such loveliness to gladden his sublime eyes would be made for ever. In the back-ground, and drawn far up on the beach, lay their vessel, with its large angular sail stowed on deck; the yard struck, and the mast and rigging covered by green pine branches, the better to elude the observation of scouts, and to blend its outline with the surrounding trees, while heaps of branches, with dry leaves spread over all, were piled against the sides. But over the gunnel we saw several Circassian girls sitting very quietly, gazing at those rough and noisy guardians, who were to convey them to that brilliant Stamboul, which they had been taught to believe was an earthly paradise. On that little deck, and apart from all the rest, sat one who did not seem to share the placidity of her companions, or to share their joyous anticipations. Her form was enveloped in her veil, and her head was bowed upon her hands, her eyes were sad, and fixed on vacancy. My breath came thick and fast. There was a swelling in my throat, as if my heart was there, for I knew that lonely weeper was Basilia. As thirty or forty girls are usually deemed a good cargo and only ten were visible, it was evident to us that the Turks had no intention of putting to sea for some days; thus my sergeant, who had frequently been on expeditions of this kind, politely suggested—as we had ridden a long way—the expedience of sleeping quietly for that night, and slaughtering the Turks at our leisure in the morning; but my impatience would brook of no delay. Again we mounted: I divided my party into two troops, and ascending the valley of Mezip for a mile or so, descended from different points towards the head of the Bay. "Spur and sabre!" was the cry. There was a brief but sharp discharge of pistols, a gleaming of knives and flashing of sabres, and in five minutes the surrounded Turks were all trampled under hoof, shot and headless beside the fire which had lit the scene of their jollity, not one of them escaping save their deformed messmate, who dashed his lute at the head of Selim, sprung into the sea, and disappeared. The captain I sabred with my own hand; but not before he gave me this wound by a pistol shot, which grazed my left cheek like a hot iron. Inspired anew by love and triumph I sprang up the side of the vessel, and sought the lonely figure—it was as my heart divined—Basilia. I knelt before her, and took her hand in mine, trembling as I did so, for never until that moment had I touched even the hem of her garment. My soul was in my tongue, and weighed it down with words of love and joy, but one alone found utterance,— "Basilia!" She gave a cry of wonder, and as she gazed at me, her large black eyes dilated and flashed with anger. "Basilia," said I, "do you not remember me?" "No," replied she, while trembling; "who are you?" "Osman, the son of Mostapha, your own Osman, who saved you at Anapa." "It is false," she answered, with eyes full of anger and sorrow; "Osman was a brave Circassian warrior, and I loved him; oh! how dearly and how well; but he fell in battle at Mikhailov. Thou art either a base Muscovite, or some fiend in the shape of Osman; a ghoul it may be, a son of Ifrit; begone, and leave me." I could have wept at these stinging words, which sank like poisoned arrows in my heart, and I feared that grief had disordered her intellects; but I did injustice to Basilia, for her language was the first prompting of honest grief and indignation to find me in the uniform of the Tenginski Hussars, and false, as she deemed, to my country and to her. For so she told me, when more composed, and when she heard my story, as we sat side by side under a broad chesnut tree with the plunder of the Turkish ship around us, and the flames of its burning timbers to light our little bivouac. When we fired it, with all the branches and withered leaves that were piled over it, the flames burned bravely, and shot above the copse-wood, as they licked the mast and its well-tarred cordage. I sat at the feet of Basilia, my heart teemed with joy, half the objects of existence seemed accomplished now, and I could no longer believe that fortune had greater favours in store for me. In the language of our own beloved country, we formed innumerable projects of happiness, or whispered plans of escape from the toils of the Russians, and I had resolved in the night, if possible, to elude my own sentinels, to mount Basilia on Zupi, and to depart by the vale of Mezip towards the wilderness of mount Shapsucka, when my sergeant, with a dark and singular expression in his eye, came to inform me that my brother "the Lieutenant Selim was nowhere to be found." Karolyi, who was sitting beside us, looked up, and gave a deep smile as the Cossack spoke. In short, after seeing the last Turk cut down, Selim, while our dismounted hussars were overhauling the ship, had turned his horse's head towards the mountains and escaped. I rejoiced at this for a time. "But brother Osman," said Karolyi, "Selim has done us a wrong in this; we should all have fled together, for thou and I will now be watched with double suspicion, and have our simplest actions subjected to the severest scrutiny." "Remember, there is the maiden, whom I cannot leave behind; so let us rejoice that Circassia has one brave warrior more." Karolyi made a gesture of impatience. "Circassia," said he, "has maidens enough and to spare; but for every warrior on her hills, she requires at least a hundred. This is no time for wedding or acting the lover, for twangling on the lute and kneeling on the verge of a pretty maid's carpet." "These were my own words, Karolyi, when urged by you and Selim to wed ere Schamyl rose in arms." "True, brother, true," replied Karolyi, "and in truth, this little maiden is a miracle of beauty. My soul and sword are at her service, command them; but in the name of Merissa think not of escape to-night. Another and perhaps more favourable opportunity may soon occur." The night passed quickly away. I watched Basilia while she slept in my mantle. I was sleepless, but silent and happy, for my mind was full of love and her. Next day I placed her on Zupi, and we set out for head-quarters amid the maledictions of the ten rescued slaves, who saw all their anticipated delights of a seraglio life suddenly cut short, and who knew that fate would now consign them to high-cheeked Kalmucks, or the rough, greasy Cossacks, in lieu of the wealthy Osmanlis, the luxurious Pashas, and turbaned Agas, whom they had hoped to have as masters; and they consoled themselves by reviling me as a renegade, and invoking on my head all the ills that fell on the God-abandoned Thamudites, and on the offspring of Saba, the son of Yarab. On arriving at head-quarters, I presented my prisoners, and the right ears of fifteen Turks to Colonel Carlovitch. The ears he flung to his dogs, and the ten girls, not finding favour in the sight of the officers who crowded about them, were given to Cossacks, to make wives or whatever they pleased of them, for such is the law of the Russian military colonies on the Kuban; and to himself, despite my prior claim by love and capture; despite my rage and grief, my entreaties and ill-smothered threatenings—to himself—this accursed Muscovite assigned Basilia as a hand-maiden! * * * * * (Here the Circassian, who had related this part of his narrative in short and broken sentences, paused, and ground his teeth, while the veins of his fine pale forehead swelled like rigid cords, and his keen dark eyes became glazed with the ferocity, fire, and grief that filled them.) <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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