The convoy lessened in length as it proceeded. The animals broke down in great numbers and died by the road, under the task of dragging the heavy wagons through the deep snow.

At a town of some size, where they halted for two days, relief was afforded by the wheels being taken off the wagons, and rough runners affixed, the wheels being placed on the carts, as that they could be put on again in case of a thaw.

Famine, however, did more that fatigue in destroying the animals; for although good exertions had been made to form depots of forage along the roads, these were exhausted faster than they could be collected by the enormous trains, which, laden with provisions and warlike stores, were making their way to Sebastopol from the interior of Russia. There was no lack of food for the men, for ample stores of black bread were carried, and a supply of meat was always obtainable at the end of the day's journey by the carcase of some bullock which had fallen and then been shot during the day's march.

But though the train diminished in length, its occupants diminished even more rapidly. Every morning, before starting, a burying party were busy interring the bodies of those who had died during the previous day's march or in the night.

When the halt was made at a village, the papa or priest of the place performed a funeral ma.s.s; when, as was more common, they encamped in the open, the grave was filled in, a rough cross was erected over it, and the convoy proceeded on its march.

The midshipmen found the journey dreary and uninteresting in the extreme.

After leaving the Crimea the country became a dead flat; which, though bright in summer, with a wide expanse of waving grain, was inexpressibly mournful and monotonous as it lay under its wide covering of snow. Here and there, far across the plain, could be seen the low, flat-roofed huts of a Russian village, or the ma.s.sively-built abode of some rich landed proprietor.

Scarce a tree broke the monotony of the wide plain, and the creaking of the carts and the shouts of the drivers seemed strangely loud as they rose in the dense silence of the plain.

From the first day of starting, the midshipmen set themselves to learn something of the language. The idea was Jack's and he pointed out to Hawtry, who was rather disinclined to take the trouble, that it would in the first place give them something to think about, and be an amus.e.m.e.nt on the line of march; in the second, it would render their captivity less dull, and, lastly, it would facilitate their escape if they should determine to make the attempt.

As they walked, therefore, alongside their friend the doctor, they asked him the names of every object around them, and soon learned the Russian words for all common objects. The verbs were more difficult, but thanks occasionally to the doctor (who spoke French) joining them at their encampment at night, they soon learned the sentences most commonly in use.

As they had nothing else to do or to think about, their progress was rapid, and by the end of a month they were able to make themselves understood in conversations upon simple matters.

They had been much disappointed, when, upon leaving the Crimea, the convoy had kept on north instead of turning west; for they had hoped that Odessa would have been their place of captivity.

It was a large and flourishing town, with a considerable foreign population, and, being on the sea, might have offered them opportunities for escape. The Russians, however, had fears that the allied fleets might make an attack upon the place, and for this reason, such few prisoners as fell into their hands were sent inland.

The journeys each day averaged from twelve to fifteen miles, twelve, however, being the more ordinary distance. The sky was generally clear and bright, for when the morning was rough and the snow fell, the convoy remained in its halting-place.

The cold was by no means excessive during the day, and although the snow was deep and heavy, there was no difficulty in keeping up with the convoy, as the pace of the bullocks was little over a mile and a half an hour. At night they were snug enough, for the doctor had adapted an empty wagon as their sleeping-place, and this, with a deep bed of straw at the bottom, blankets hung at the sides and others laid over the top, const.i.tuted as comfortable a shelter as could be desired.

At last, after a month's travelling, the doctor pointed to a town rising over the plain, and signified that this was their halting-place.

It was a town of some seven or eight thousand inhabitants, and the mosque-like domes of the churches shining, brightly in the sun, and the green-painted roofs and bright colors of many of the houses, gave it a gay and cheerful appearance.

The convoy made its way through the streets to large barracks, now converted into a hospital. When the sick had been taken into the wards, the doctor proceeded with the midshipmen to the residence of the governor.

The boys had laid aside the sheepskin cloaks which had proved so invaluable during their journey, and as they walked through the streets, in their midshipman's uniform, attracted a good deal of attention.

They were at once shown in to the governor, an officer of some five-and-thirty years old, with a fierce and disagreeable expression of countenance. He was a member of a high Russian family; but as a punishment for various breaches of discipline, arising from his quarrelsome disposition and misconduct, he had been appointed governor to this little town, instead of going with his regiment to the front.

Saluting him, the doctor delivered to him an order for the safe guardianship of the two English officers.

"Ah," he said, as he perused the doc.u.ment, and glanced at the midshipmen, "if these are British officers, I can scarcely understand the trouble they are giving us. They are mere boys. I thought their uniform was red. The soldiers who were brought here a month ago were all in red."

"These are young naval officers," the doctor said. "I understand that some of the sailors are serving on sh.o.r.e, and these were captured, I am told, when out with a party of their men cutting fuel."

"A wonderful capture, truly," the governor said sneeringly. "Two boys scarce out of the nursery."

"It cost us some men," the doctor said calmly, "for I hear from the officer who brought them in that we lost altogether fifteen men, and the sailors would all have got away had it not been that one of these young officers was shot in the leg and the other stood by him, and shot several men with his revolver before he was captured."

"A perfect St. George," the commandant sneered. "Well, sir, your duty is done, and I will see to them. Are they on parole?"

"They gave me their parole not to try to escape during the journey, and have expressed their willingness to renew it."

"It matters little one way or the other," the governor said. "Unless they could fly, they could not make their way through the country.

There, sir, that will do."

The doctor bowed, shook hands with the boys, and without a word went out, touching his lips with his fingers to them as he turned his back to the governor, a movement which the lads understood at once as a hint that it would be as well to say nothing which might show that they had any knowledge of Russian.

The governor rang a hand-bell, and a sergeant entered. The governor wrote a few words on a piece of paper.

"Take these prisoners to Count Preskoff's," he said, "and deliver this order to him."

The sergeant motioned the lads to follow him. With a bow to the governor, which he pa.s.sed unacknowledged, they followed the soldier.

"A disagreeable brute, that," Jack said. "A little work in the trenches would do him good, and take some of his c.o.c.kiness out of him.

That was a good idea of the doctor, not saying good-bye in Russian. I don't suppose we shall run against that fellow again, but it we did, he might make it so disagreeable that we might be driven to show him a clean pair of heels."

"He didn't ask for our parole," d.i.c.k said, "so we shall be justified in making a bolt if we see a chance."

Pa.s.sing through the streets the sergeant led them through the town and out into the country beyond.

"Where on earth is he taking us to?" Jack wondered. "I would bet that he has quartered us on this Count Preskoff from pure spite. I wonder what sort of chap he is."

After half an hour's walking they approached a large chateau, surrounded by smaller buildings.

"He's a swell evidently," d.i.c.k said. "We ought to have comfortable quarters here."

They entered a large courtyard, across one side of which stood the house; and the sergeant, proceeding to the main entrance, rang the bell. It was opened by a tall man dressed in full Russian costume.

"I have a message for the count from the commandant," the sergeant said.

"The count is absent," the servant answered; "but the countess is in."

"I will speak to her."

Leaving them standing in the hall, the man ascended a wide staircase, and in a minute or two returned and motioned to the sergeant to follow him.

They ascended the stairs and entered a large and handsome room, in which sat a lady of some forty years old, with three younger ones of from sixteen to twenty years old.

Countess Preskoff was a very handsome woman, and her daughters had inherited her beauty.

The sergeant advanced and handed to her the order. She glanced at it, and an expression of displeasure pa.s.sed across her face.

"The commandant's orders shall be obeyed," she said coldly; and the sergeant, saluting, retired.

The countess turned to her daughters.

"The commandant has quartered two prisoners, English officers, upon us," she said. "Of course he has done it to annoy us. I suppose these are they." And she rose and approached the lads, who were standing by the door. "Why, they are boys," she said in surprise, "and will do for playfellows for you, Olga. Poor little fellows, how cruel to send such boys to fight!"