A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean WarBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Crimean War, 1853-1856 -- Juvenile fiction
And as they charged, from either side and from the front, flame and
smoke belched out, and the valley echoed with the sound of exploding
cannon. Shells shrieked overhead, rolled like huge cricket-balls along
the turf, and burst in the midst of the gallant horsemen, sweeping
scores to the ground. And yet they did not flinch. Instead they dug
their spurs still deeper, till they were actually racing for the Russian
enemy.
What a sight! A green-clad valley, cloaked in eddying smoke, which was
rent asunder every second by a blinding flash; and through it, all that
remained of that galloping 600 now clearly visible, and a moment later
plunging deep into the reek and smoke of the cannon.
Suddenly the guns in front ceased to fire. The first line, or rather
what was left of it, rode over them and dashed pell-mell into the
cavalry behind, breaking them and scattering them like chaff. And now
came the moment for the second line, and for Phil and his friend. It
was indeed a race, men and officers doing their utmost to outdistance
the others. Long ago Phil had lost sight of his companion in the smoke,
but now a riderless horse, frenzied by fear, came up and thundered along
on either side of him. Suddenly a ringing "Tally-ho!" came from some
officer in front, and with a roar of furious excitement the line rode
over the smoking guns and dashed full into a huge mass of Russian
cavalry.
Phil found himself still with the riderless horses alongside, amidst the
men of the 11th Hussars. Standing in his stirrups, he leant over and
cut savagely at the grey-coats which seemed to rise up on either side of
him, while a loud hissing sound, produced by the excited Russians,
filled the air around. There was a rush and a crash, and the horse on
his right was swept away. He scarcely noticed it, but, seeing a comrade
at that moment fall in front of him, he pulled his pony in with a jerk,
and made such good play with his weapon that for a moment he kept the
long Cossack lances from the fallen man.
Whack! A tremendous blow on his shoulder sent him flying from his
saddle to the ground, where, looking up, he was just in time to see Tony
standing in his stirrups with sabre raised on high. Down it came on the
head of the man who had just struck him from his pony, and with a groan
the Russian flopped upon his horse's neck.
"Up! Up yer get!" shouted Tony, laying about him with a will. "Full
yourself together, old man."
Phil sprang to his feet, and, holding his sabre in his mouth, lifted the
prostrate form of the trooper.
"Hold on here, Tony," he cried. "That's it. Now wait a minute. Those
horsemen have cleared away."
Rent asunder by the terrible British horse, the Russians had in fact
opened out and retired, disclosing the bulk of their army forming into
square close at hand. Phil took advantage of the lull.
A riderless horse stood close at hand, and in a few seconds he was in
the saddle. Then he sheathed his sabre, and, riding up to Tony, said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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