Graham Greene (12 page)

Kneeling on the heap of hay I kept my eyes riveted on the rocky promontory. We were nearly a mile away now and could no longer distinguish objects clearly.

Were those rocks—moving? I tried to pierce the darkness, my eyes rooted to the black point.

Rocks? Trees? Or—or——

I sprang up and shook the Finn by the shoulders with all my force.

“Drive like hell, man! We're being pursued!”

Riding out from Lissy Nos was a group of horsemen. My driver moaned—lashed his whip—the sleigh leapt forward—the chase began in earnest.

“Ten thousand marks if we escape!” I yelled in the Finn's ear. (It would have been a fortune to him.)

In the darkness it was impossible to tell whether we were gaining or losing. My driver uttered loud moaning cries, he seemed to be pulling very hard on the reins, the sleigh jerked so that I could hardly stand.

Then I saw that the pursuers were gaining, and gaining rapidly. The moving dots grew into galloping figures. There was a
flash and a crack, then another, and another. What use was a pistol against their carbines? I threatened the driver with my revolver if he did not pull ahead, but dropped like a stone into the hay as a bullet whizzed close above.

The sleigh suddenly swung about. The driver had had difficulty with his reins, they appeared to have got caught in the shaft, and before I realised what was happening the horse fell, the sleigh whirled round and came to an abrupt stop.

What would the pursuing Red guards go for first? A fugitive? Not if there was possible loot. And what more likely than that the sleigh contained smugglers' loot?

Eel-like, I slid over the side and made in the direction of the shore. Progress was difficult, for there were big patches of windswept ice to be avoided, coal-black and slippery as glass. Stumbling along, I drew from my pocket a packet containing maps and documents which were sufficient, if discovered upon me, to assure my being shot without further ado, and held it ready to hurl away across the ice. If seized I would plead smuggling.

It seemed impossible that I should escape! Looking backward as I ran I saw the group around the sleigh. The riders, dismounted, were examining the driver. In a moment they would renew the pursuit, and I should be spotted at once. I saw already that I could never reach the shore. Yet despairingly I stumbled forward over the motley ice—grey and black in the starlight. The windswept patches looked like cavernous pits. There the surface was invisible, and incredibly slippery.
Black
—and
slippery!
Prompted by a sudden impulse, I stumbled into the middle of a broad inky patch and looked down quickly at my boots. My dark clothes made no outline. I could see no boots!

Merciful God, to have provided this! I dropped flat on the black ice and lay still. The packet I carried glided noiselessly over the inky surface to a spot where I might easily find it.

Prone, I could see neither riders nor sleigh. But the kindly ice
gave warning. With my ear to its cold surface and holding my breath, I heard the sound of the approaching hoofs. Dread moment! Had I rightly understood the message that had made me fall where I was? Should I truly be unseen?

The riders did as I had done in running—they kept to the grey, they avoided the slippery black. Here they were now—close at hand—thud of hoofs muffled by crisp snow—short shouts lost on the night air. They rode so close that it seemed that one of them
must
ride over me.

Yet they didn't after all.

An eternity of night and darkness was swallowed up while I lay motionless, until at last the riders retreated to the sleigh and rode off with it. But time is measured not by degrees of hope or despair, but by fleeting seconds and minutes, and by my luminous watch I detected that it was only half-past one. Prosaic half-past one!

Was the sombre expanse of frozen sea really deserted? Kronstadt loomed dimly on the horizon, the dark line of woods lay behind me, and all was still as death—except the imprisoned waters below, heaving in travail, groaning and gurgling as if the great ice-burden was too heavy to bear.

Slowly and imperceptibly I rose, first on all fours, then kneeling, finally standing upright. The horsemen and the sleigh were gone, I was alone. Only the stars twinkled, as much as to say: “It's all over—'twas a narrow squeak, wasn't it?—but a miss is as good as a mile!”

SIR PAUL DUKES

DELIGHTS OF THE PROFESSION

For anyone who is tired of life, the thrilling life of a spy should be the very finest recuperator.

SIR ROBERT BADEN-POWELL

n the evening of the 23rd May I was sitting at the window of our room, reading to my grandmother and cousin, when one of the servants rushed in, and shouted, or rather shrieked:

“Oh, Miss Belle, I t'inks de revels am a-comin', for de Yankees are a-makin' orful fuss in de street.”

I immediately sprang from my seat and went to the door, and I then found that the servant's report was true. The streets were thronged with Yankee soldiers, hurrying about in every direction in the greatest confusion.

I asked a Federal officer, who just then happened to be passing by, what was the matter. He answered that the Confederates were approaching the town in force, under Generals Jackson and Ewell, that they had surprised and captured the outside pickets, and had actually advanced within a mile of the town, without the attack being even suspected.

“Now,” he added, “we are endeavouring to get the ordnance and the quartermaster's stores out of their reach.”

“But what will you do,” I asked, “with the stores in the large dépôt?”

“Burn them, of course!”

“But suppose the rebels come upon you too quickly?”

“Then we will fight as long as we can by any possibility show a front, and in the event of defeat make good our retreat upon Winchester, burning the bridges as soon as we cross them, and finally effect a junction with General Banks' force.”

I parted with the Federal officer and, returning to the house, I began to walk quietly upstairs, when suddenly I heard the report of a rifle … I hurried to the balcony, and, by the aid of my glasses, descried the advance guard of the Confederates at the
distance of about three-quarters of a mile, marching rapidly upon the town.

To add to my anxiety, my father, who was at that time upon General Garnett's staff, was with them. My heart beat alternately with hope and fear. I was not in ignorance of the trap the Yankees had set for my friends. I was in possession of much important information, which if I could only contrive to convey to General Jackson, I knew our victory would be secure. Without it I had every reason to anticipate defeat and disaster.…

I did not stop to reflect. My heart, though beating fast, was not appalled. I put on a white sun-bonnet, and started at a run down the street, which was thronged with Federal officers and men. I soon cleared the town and gained the open fields, which I traversed with unabated speed, hoping to escape observation until such time as I could make good my way to the Confederate line, which was still rapidly advancing.

I had on a dark blue dress,
¹
with a little fancy white apron over it; and this contrast of colours, being visible at a great distance, made me far more conspicuous than was just then agreeable.…

At this moment the Federal pickets, who were rapidly falling back, perceived me still running as fast as I was able, and immediately fired upon me.

My escape was most providential; for, although I was not hit, the rifle-balls flew thick and fast about me, and more than one struck the ground so near my feet as to throw the dust in my eyes. Nor was this all: the Federals in the hospital, seeing in what direction the shots of their pickets were aimed, followed the example and also opened fire upon me.

Upon this occasion my life was spared by what seemed to me
then, and seems still, little short of a miracle; for, besides the numerous bullets that whistled by my ears, several actually pierced different parts of my clothing, but not one reached my body. Besides all this, I was exposed to a crossfire from the Federal and Confederate artillery, whose shot and shell flew whistling and hissing over my head.

At length a Federal shell struck the ground within twenty yards of my feet; and the explosion, of course, sent the fragments flying in every direction around me. I had, however, just time to throw myself flat upon the ground before the deadly engine burst; and again Providence spared my life.

Springing up when the danger was passed, I pursued my career, still under a heavy fire. I shall never run again as I ran on that, to me, memorable day. Hope, fear, the love of life, and the determination to serve my country to the last, conspired to fill my heart with more than feminine courage, and to lend preternatural strength and swiftness to my limbs. I often marvel and even shudder when I reflect how I cleared the fields and bounded over the fences with the agility of a deer.

As I neared our line I waved my bonnet to our soldiers, to intimate that they should press forward, upon which one regiment, the 1st Maryland “rebel” Infantry, and Hay's Louisiana Brigade, gave me a loud cheer, and, without waiting for further orders, dashed upon the town at a rapid pace.

They did not then know who I was, and they were naturally surprised to see a woman on the battlefield, and on a spot, too, where the fire was so hot. Their shouts of approbation and triumph rang in my ears for many a day afterwards, and I still hear them not infrequently in my dreams.

At this juncture the main body of the Confederates was hidden from my view by a slight elevation which intervened between me and them. My heart almost ceased to beat within me; for the dreadful thought arose in my mind that our force must
be too weak to be any match for the Federals, and that the gallant men who had just been applauding me were rushing upon a certain and fruitless death. I accused myself of having urged them to their fate; and now, quite overcome by fatigue and by the feelings which tormented me, I sank upon my knees and offered a short but earnest prayer to God.

Then I felt as if my supplication was answered, and that I was inspired with fresh spirits and a new life. Not only despair, but fear also forsook me; and I had again no thought but how to fulfil the mission I had already pursued so far.

I arose from my kneeling posture, and had proceeded but a short distance, when, to my unspeakable, indescribable joy, I caught sight of the main body fast approaching; and soon an old friend and connection of mine, Major Harry Douglas, rode up, and recognising me, cried out, while he seized my hand:

“Good God, Belle, you here! What is it?”

“Oh, Harry,” I gasped out, “give me time to recover my breath.”

For some seconds I could say no more; but, as soon as I had sufficiently recovered myself, I produced the “little note,” and told him all, urging him to hurry on the cavalry, with orders to them to seize the bridges before the retreating Federals should have time to destroy them.

He instantly galloped off to report to General Jackson, who immediately rode forward, and asked me if I would have an escort and a horse wherewith to return to the village. I thanked him, and said, “No; I would go as I came”: and then, acting upon the information I had been spared to convey, the Confederates gained a most complete victory …

BELLE BOYD

ovember 23rd, 1897. One of our secret informers, the Baron de Saint-Aubanet, a former naval officer, called on me this morning in the Boulevard Malesherbes to give me an account of a very delicate mission which he has just completed in Italy.