The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"Grant, James
General
The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"
Grant, James
Adventure stories; British -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction
Vaulting again into his own well-worn saddle, he plunged with me into
the stream, and gallantly we breasted it--while the carbines of the
Tchememorski Cossacks--the only soldiers in the Russian service who
can at all compete with our people--rang on every side, as they
commenced a simultaneous discharge upon us, and their bullets
flattened on the rocks, or raised incessant water-spouts around us.
Suddenly I heard a low cry and a choking gurgle that filled my heart
with misery. I looked back; Karolyi, struck by a bullet, had sunk
from his saddle, and a spurred boot alone was visible, as horse and
rider was swept over a cataract, and borne away towards the Dnieper.
So perished my second brother!
Forcing Zupi up a bank where the reeds grew at least twelve feet
high, I still rode recklessly on; but brave as they were, not one of
the Cossacks dared to cross that foaming torrent in pursuit. Night
came down to shroud my flight; there was no moon. I reached a wood,
and flung myself down exhausted in mind and body. I was now dead to
the fear of discovery, and I cared not for wolves, or other wild
animals.
The presence of Karolyi, his companionship and our brotherly love,
had alone sustained me thus far; now he was gone, and I was alone in
the world; but there was at least one consolation: he had died the
death of a warrior, with one hand on his bridle, and the other on his
weapon; he had fallen, like his father's son, in battle with the
enemies of his country, but he had found a tomb far from his father's
grave, and far from the banks of the Kisselbash River.
Three days I lay without food, save a little wild honey, and without
repose in that Lithuanian forest, and careless whether I lived or
died; for want, misery, privation and mental agony had broken my
spirit, and destroyed alike every purpose, hope, and reflection.
There I prayed to the only Prophet of God, and remembered with
growing trust that in the blessed Koran, he enjoins us to seek aid
with perseverance; and I implored him to deliver me, even as the Lord
divided the sea of Kolzom with his hand to let his people pass, and
thereafter drowned the Egyptian host; and the Prophet heard me; for
even while I prayed with my bare head in the dust, there chanced to
pass that way a poor Tartar who dwelt on the skirts of the forest,
and who had come hither to cut wood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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