A sense of weakness and oppression, of incapacity for action and motion, were my first sensations. I feared that other shot must have struck me after I had fallen, and that both my legs were broken. The cause of this, after a time, became plain enough: a dead artillery1 horse was lying completely over my thighs2, and above it and them lay the wheel of a shattered gun carriage; and weak as I was then, to attempt extrication3 from either unaided was hopeless. Thus I was compelled to lie helplessly amid a sickening puddle4 of blood, enduring a thirst that is unspeakable, but which was caused by physical causes and excitement, with the anxiety consequent on the battle. The aspect of the dead horse, which first attracted me, was horrible. A twelve-pound shot had struck him below the eyes, making a hole clean through his head; the brain had dropped out, and lay with his tongue and teeth upon the grass. The dead and wounded lay thickly around me, as indeed they did over all the field. Some of the former, though with eyes unclosed and jaws5 relaxed, had a placid7 expression in their white waxen faces. These had died of gun-shot wounds. The expressions of pain or anguish8 lingered longest in those who had perished by the bayonet. Over all the valley lay bodies in heaps, singly or by two and threes, with swarms9 of flies settling over them; shakoes, glazed10 helmets, bearskin-caps, bent11 bayonets, broken muskets12, swords, hairy knapsacks, bread-bags, shreds14 of clothing, torn from the dead and the living by showers of grape and canister, cooking-kettles, round shot and fragments of shells, with pools of noisome15 blood, lay on every hand.
Truly the Angel of Horror, and of Death, too, had been there. I saw several poor fellows, British as well as Russian, expire within the first few minutes I was able to look around me. One whose breast bore several medals and orders, an officer of the Kazan Light Infantry16, prayed very devoutly17 and crossed himself in his own blood ere he expired. Near me a corporal of my own regiment18 named Prouse, who had been shot through the brain, played fatuously19 for a time with a handful of grass, and then, lying gently back, passed away without a moan. A Zouave, a brown, brawny20, and soldier-like fellow, who seemed out of his senses also, was very talkative and noisy.
"Ouf!" I heard him say; "it is as wearisome as a sermon or a funeral this! Were I a general, the capture of Sebastopol should be as easy as a game of dominoes.--Yes, Isabeau, ma belle21 coquette, kiss me and hold up my head. Vive la gloire! Vive l'eau de vie! A bas la mélancolie! A bas la Russe!" he added through his clenched22 teeth hoarsely23, as he fell back. The jaw6 relaxed, his head turned on one side, and all was over.
Of Volhonski I could see nothing except his gray horse, which lay dead, in all its trappings, a few yards off; but I afterwards learned that he had been retaken by the Russians on their advance after the fall of poor Sir George Cathcart.
There was an acute pain in the arm that had been injured--fractured--when saving Estelle; and as a kind of stupor24, filled by sad and dreamy thoughts, stole over me, they were all of her. The roar of the battle had passed away, but there was a kind of drowsy25 hum in my ears, and, for a time, strangely enough, I fancied myself with her in the Park or Rotten-row. I seemed to see the brilliant scene in all the glory of the season: the carriages; the horses, bay or black, with their shining skins and glittering harness; the powdered coachmen on their stately hammer-cloths; the gaily-liveried footmen; the ladies cantering past in thousands, so exquisitely26 dressed, so perfectly27 mounted, so wonderful in their loveliness--women the most beautiful in the world; and there, too, were the young girls, whose season was to come, and the ample dowagers, whose seasons were long since past, lying back among the cushions, amid ermine and fur; and with all this Estelle was laughing and cantering by my side. Then we were at the opera--another fantastic dream--the voices of Grisi and Mario were blending there, and as its music seemed to die away, once more we were at Craigaderyn, under its shady woods, with the green Welsh hills, snow-capped Snowdon and Carneydd Llewellyn, in the distance, and voices and music and laughter--some memory of Dora's fête--seemed to be about us. So while lying there, on that ghastly field of Inkermann, between sleeping and waking, I dreamed of her who was so far away--of the sweet companionship that might never come again; of the secret tie that bound us; of the soft dark eyes that whilom had looked lovingly into mine; of the sweetly-modulated voice that was now falling merrily, perhaps, on other ears, and might fall on mine no more. And a vague sense of happiness, mingled28 with the pain caused by the half-spent shot and the wild confusion and suffering of the time, stole over me. Waking, these memories became
"Sad as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned29
On lips that are for others--deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret,
O death in life--the days that are no more!"
From all this I was thoroughly30 roused by a voice crying, "Up, up, wounded--all you who are able! Cavalry31 are coming this way--you will be trod to death. Arrah, get out of that, every man-jack of yees!"
The excited speaker was an Irish hussar, picking his way across the field at a quick trot32.
It was a false alarm; but the rumble33 of wheels certainly came next day, and an ambulance-wagon passed slowly, picking up the wounded, who groaned34 or screamed as their fractured limbs were handled, and their wounds burst out afresh through the clotted35 blood. I waved an arm, and the scarlet36 sleeve attracted attention.
"There is a wounded officer--one of the 23rd Fusileers," cried a driver from his saddle.
"Where?" asked a mounted officer in the blue cloak and cap of the Land Transport Corps37.
"Under that dead horse, sir."
"One of the 23rd; let us see--Hardinge, by all the devils!" said the officer, who proved to be no other than Hawkesby Guilfoyle. "So-ho--steady, steady!" he added, while secretly touching38 his horse with the spurs to make it rear and plunge39 in three several attempts to tread me under its hoofs40; but the terrible aspect of the dead animal smashed by the cannon-shot so scared the one he rode, that he bore on the curb41 in vain.
"Coward! coward!" I exclaimed, "if God spares me you shall hear of this."
"The fellow is mad or tipsy," said he; "drive on."
"But, sir--sir!" urged the driver in perplexity.
"Villain42! you are my evil fate," said I faintly.
"I tell you the fellow is mad--drive on, I command you, or by----, I'll make a prisoner of you!" thundered Guilfoyle, drawing a pistol from his holster, while his shifty green eyes grew white with suppressed passion and malice43; so the ambulance-cart was driven on, and I was left to my fate.
Giddy and infuriated by pain and just indignation, I lay under my cold and ghastly load, perishing of thirst, and looking vainly about for assistance.
Scarcely were they gone, when out of the dense44 thick brushwood, that grew in clumps45 and tufts over all the valley, there stole forth46 two Russian soldiers, with their bayonets fixed47, and their faces distorted and pale with engendered48 fanaticism49 and fury at their defeat. There was a cruel gleam in their eyes as they crept stealthily about. Either they feared to fire or their ammunition50 was expended51, for I saw them deliberately52 pass their bayonets through the bodies of four or five wounded men, and pin the writhing53 creatures to the earth. I lay very still, expecting that my turn would soon come. The dead horse served to conceal54 me for a little; but I panted rather than breathed, and my breath came in gasps55 as they drew near me; for on discovering that I was an officer, my gold wings and lace would be sure to kindle56 their spirit of acquisition. I had my revolver in my right hand, and remembered with grim joy that of its six chambers57, three were yet undischarged. Just as the first Russian came straight towards me, I shot him through the head, and he fell backward like a log; the second uttered a howl, and came rushing on with his butt58 in the air and his bayonet pointed59 down. I fired both barrels. One ball took him right in the shoulder, the other in the throat, and he fell wallowing in blood, but not until he had hurled60 his musket13 at me. The barrel struck me crosswise on the head, and I again became insensible. Moonlight was stealing over the valley when consciousness returned again, and I felt more stiff and more helpless than ever. Something was stirring near me; I looked up, and uttered an exclamation61 on seeing our regimental goat, Carneydd Llewellyn, quietly cropping some herbage among the débris of dead bodies and weapons that lay around me. Like Caradoc, I had made somewhat a pet of it. The poor animal knew my voice, and on coming towards me, permitted me to stroke and pat it; and a strong emotion of wonder and regard filled my heart as I did so, for it was a curious coincidence that this animal, once the pet of Winifred Lloyd, should discover me there upon the field of Inkermann.
After a little I heard a voice, in English, cry, "Here is our goat at last, by the living Jingo!" and Dicky Roll, its custodian--from whose tent it had escaped, when a shot from the batteries broke the pole--came joyfully62 towards it.
"Roll, Dicky Roll," cried I, "for God's sake bring some of our fellows, and have me taken from here!"
"Captain Hardinge! are you wounded, sir?" asked the little drummer, stooping in commiseration63 over me.
"Badly, I fear, but cannot tell with certainty."
Dicky shouted in his shrill64 boyish voice, and in a few minutes some of our pioneers and bandsmen came that way with stretchers. I was speedily freed from my superincumbent load, and very gently and carefully borne rearward to my tent, when it was found that a couple of contusions on the head were all I had suffered, and that a little rest and quiet would soon make me fit for duty again.
"You must be more than ever careful of our goat, Dicky," said I, as the small warrior65, who was not much taller than his own bearskin cap, was about to leave me (by the bye, my poor fellow Evans had been cut in two by a round shot). "But for Carneydd Llewellyn, I might have lain all night on the field."
"There is a date scratched on one of his horns, sir," said Roll; "I saw it to-day for the first time."
"A date!--what date?"
"Sunday, 21st August."
"Sunday, 21st August," I repeated; "what can that refer to?"
"I don't know, sir--do you?"
The drummer saluted66 and left the tent. I lay on my camp-bed weak and feverish67, so weak, that I could almost have wept; for now came powerfully back to memory that episode, till then forgotten--the Sunday ramble68 I had with Winifred Lloyd when we visited the goat, by the woods of Craigaderyn, by the cavern69 in the glen, by the Maen Hir or the Giant's Grave, and the rocking stone, and all that passed that day, and how she wept when I kissed her. Poor Winifred! her pretty white hand must have engraved70 the date which the little drummer referred to--a date which was evidently dwelling71 more in her artless mind than in mine.
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1
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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extrication
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| n.解脱；救出，解脱 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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7
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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9
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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10
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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13
musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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14
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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15
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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16
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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fatuously
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| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
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20
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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22
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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24
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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26
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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28
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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29
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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32
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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33
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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34
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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35
clotted
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| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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38
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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39
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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40
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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42
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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43
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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44
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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45
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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48
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
fanaticism
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| n.狂热，盲信 | |
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50
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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51
expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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52
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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53
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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54
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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55
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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56
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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57
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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58
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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59
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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60
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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61
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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62
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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66
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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67
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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68
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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69
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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70
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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71
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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