A fortnight now pa.s.sed without incident, except for the arrival of Joseph Bern, the famous Polish general, who instantly set about the work of defence.

"A marvellous man!" said Rakoczy one evening. "Over fifty years old, yet hot-headed as a boy. You should see him in a battle with the sh.e.l.ls bursting and the bullets coming down like hail. He's a regular salamander, and the hotter the fire the better Bern is pleased."

"He certainly knows how to make the men work."

"Isn't there some gipsy prophecy concerning him?" asked Stephen.

"Yes, and Bern believes in the truth of it. An old woman told his fortune many years ago, and prophesied he would never come to any harm till 1850. His body is covered with scars, but Bern doesn't count these. The Poles are fanatical about him, and believe he can't be killed.

"If the Austrians catch him," said Stephen, "they will put it to the test by means of a hempen rope."

"Rather a risky experiment, for Bern," replied our companion with a humorous twinkle.

That same night Prince Windischgratz arrived with a fresh army, twenty thousand strong; and, having joined his colleagues, he summoned the city to surrender.

The reply was a curt refusal, and the citizens prepared for the ordeal of battle.

Three more days pa.s.sed quietly while the royalists placed their guns in position; then, at ten o'clock on the morning of October 28, 1848, the tocsin rang loudly, and the _generale_ beat to arms. Instantly the citizens ran to their appointed places, and it must be admitted that very few showed traces of fear or cowardice. The men in blouses, accompanied by hundreds of women and girls, guarded the barricades; the students formed up on the ramparts, where all night they had lain by the long line of watch-fires; and the Nationals, rifle in hand, marched to their stations.

It was nearly noon when a signal-shot was fired from the Schwartzenberg heights, and immediately the bombardment began.

Shot and sh.e.l.l and flaming rockets came hissing and roaring into the city; but the civilian gunners stood to their pieces, and answered shot by shot, though without doing much damage to their opponents.

It was soon seen that the princ.i.p.al attack would be made by way of the Leopoldstadt and Landstra.s.se suburbs, to the former of which I hastened with my brother and Rakoczy.

The Croats and Cha.s.seurs had already reached the Prater, from the houses and woods of which they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders of the first barricade. Men dropped fast, and we were soon busy carrying those who were seriously wounded into places of safety, where their hurts might be attended to by the surgeons.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_From the woods they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders._" Page 54.]]

The bullets fell thickly around us while we ran here and there with flasks of water to moisten the parched throats of the stricken men.

Some, alas! were dying, and for these we could do little but cheer their last moments; others, who possessed a chance of recovery, we raised in our arms and bore tenderly away.

We had just returned from one of these sad errands when Rakoczy, seeing a fallen body on the top of the barricade, immediately climbed up in order to examine it.

We paused in our work to watch the handsome, bright-eyed fellow as he stood there, quite cool, the target for hundreds of rifles.

The insurgents, understanding his action, cheered and cheered again as he bent over the motionless body; but his heroism was useless--the man was dead.

Rising slowly, the brave Rakoczy stood for a second, glancing toward the Prater, then returned to us untouched.

"Dead," he said briefly; "and the Austrians are preparing for a rush."

Stephen glanced at the handful of insurgents who still fought doggedly, but their time was almost come.

A savage cry heralded the onslaught of the Croats, those hardy fighters from the south; and five minutes later the defenders of the barricade were in full flight, leaving behind only their wounded and dead.

At first I thought of retreating also; but "The Joyous" was already giving aid to another sufferer, and the sight of his calm face brought me to my senses.

So we three stayed, doing what we could; and almost immediately the enemy were upon us, leaping, shouting, tiring, and cheering like a body of savages.

A wild-looking lot they were, having little uniform, save the famous red mantle which hung loosely over the shoulders, and was fastened round the throat with a small cord.

For the rest, speaking generally, their costume was a dark cap carelessly placed on the side of the head, rough brown jacket almost threadbare, drawers tied in at the knees, gaiters, and clumsy-looking sandals fastened with strips of leather. Most of them wore a gay-coloured sash, and all were armed with the weapons peculiar to their country.

Each man carried a stanitza or long gun, a long and ornamented pistol, a cartouch-box on his shoulder-belt, and, in a richly-embroidered sheath, a handjar, which is half yataghan and half carving-knife.

You may be sure I did not see all these things as the redoubtable warriors came swarming over the barricade, but later I had ample opportunity of studying the weapons of the Ban's soldiers.

After them marched a regiment of Austrian infantry, well disciplined and steady as a rock.

As the Croats went by, I expected every second to be shot through the head, or to feel one of the murderous handjars in my throat; but I continued my labour, at least with outward calm. Happily, the Viennese had left the adjoining houses empty, so there was nothing to hinder the imperialists from advancing, or to further excite their pa.s.sions.

The Croats swept by like a furious whirlwind, the Austrians followed more steadily, and we were left to our self-imposed task.

When the enemy had disappeared, dozens of women and men not engaged in the fight came from their hiding-places, and we were surrounded by a band of willing helpers.

The dead we left where they had fallen, for time was precious; but the others were all removed into the houses, and made as comfortable as possible till the surgeons arrived.

We had just finished our work, and were resting a while, when the booming of cannon sounded not far off.

"They're taking the second barricade!" I exclaimed.

"It will cost them dear," said Rakoczy; "Bern is there!"

"Let us go and see," said Stephen; "we may be of use."

CHAPTER IV.

_VIENNA IN FLAMES._

For the second time the Croats were about to hurl themselves against the barricade defended by the daring Pole. A cl.u.s.ter of bodies twenty yards in advance of it showed where the first rush had been stayed.

The black nozzles of several guns peeped from the huge pile, and the gunners stood ready with lighted matches.

Looking at Bern, I remembered Rakoczy's story, and really it appeared as if the man were bullet-proof. Others exposed themselves for a moment, and were shot down; he, holding a short riding-whip in his hand, stood with the most perfect _sang-froid_ in the hottest of the fire, cheering, directing, encouraging, and was not hit once.

Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should have doubted a narrator who told me the story, for the thing was almost incredible even to an eye-witness.

But the Croats were ready. The signal rang out; they went forward in loose formation, slowly at first, afterwards more quickly, a few dropping by the way. Then, with an appalling yell, they literally flew over the ground, brandishing their handjars.

Once at close quarters, the Viennese would go down before them like ripe corn beneath the sickle.

The Austrians in reserve cheered. Another minute and their allies would be swarming over the barricade, when suddenly, from the mouths of Bern's heavy guns, belched sheets of flame. There came a tremendous report; the barricade trembled; the whole scene was blotted out by a cloud of smoke, which drifted slowly away, and then the Croats were seen retiring sullenly.