WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
Cliffe and Fotheringhay, and there remain until joined by a brigade of infantry with the Canadians coming from Leicestershire. The great body of men at length mustered, answered the roll, and marched through the quiet old-world streets of Stamford, and out upon the broad highway to King's Cliffe on the first stage of their journey.
It was early morning. In the sunlight the dew still glistened like diamonds on the wayside, as regiment after regiment, with firm, steady step, and shouldering their rifles, bravely passed away through the fields of ripe uncut corn, eager to unite with a force of Regulars, and strike their first blow for their country's liberty.
Sturdy fishermen from the rough shores of Donegal marched side by side with townsmen and artisans from Dublin, Belfast, and Limerick; sons of wealthy manufacturers in Antrim and Down bore arms with stalwart peasantry from Kerry and Tipperary; while men whose poor but cherished cabins overlooked Carlingford Lough, united with fearless patriots from Carlow, Wexford, and Waterford.
Since they landed on English soil, they had met with a boundless welcome.
In the rural districts the distress was not yet so great as in the larger towns; consequently at King's Cliffe, when the first detachment halted for rest in the long straggling street of the typical English village, the bells of the quaint old church were rung, and villagers gave their defenders bread, cheese, and draughts of ale. While the men were standing at ease and eating heartily, two officers entered Bailey's, the village grocery store, which served as post office, and received a cipher telegraphic despatch. They emerged into the roadway immediately, and their faces showed that some unforeseen event had occurred. A third officer was summoned, and a hurried and secret consultation took place as they stood together opposite the Cross Keys Inn.
"But can we do it?" queried the youngest of the trio, aloud, pulling on his gloves, and settling the hang of his sword.
The grave elder man, commander of the brigade, glanced quickly at his watch, with knit brows.
"Do it?" he replied, with a marked Irish accent. "We must. It'll be a dash for life; but the boys are fresh, and as duty calls, we must push onward, even though we may be marching to our doom. Go," he said to the youngest of his two companions, "tell them we are moving, and that our advance guard will reach them at the earliest possible moment."
The young lieutenant hurried over to the little shop, and as he did so the colonel gave an order, and a bugle awoke the echoes of the village.
Quick words of command sounded down the quaint, ancient street, followed by the sharp click of arms. Again officers' voices sounded loud and brief, and at the word "March!" the great body of stern loyalists moved onward over the bridge, and up the School Hill on to the long winding road which led away through Apesthorpe and historic Fotheringhay to Oundle.
The message from the front had been immediately responded to, for a few minutes later the excited villagers stood watching the rearguard disappearing in the cloud of dust raised by the heavy tread of the thousand feet upon the white highway.
CHAPTER XVIII
RUSSIAN ADVANCE IN THE MIDLANDS
Through the land the grey-coated hordes of the White Tsar spread like locusts — their track marked by death and desolation.
Both French and Russian troops had taken up carefully selected positions on the Downs, and, backed by the enormous reinforcements now landed, were slowly advancing. Every detail of the surprise invasion had apparently been carefully considered, for immediately after the fierce battle off Beachy Head a number of French and Russian cruisers were despatched to the Channel ports in order to threaten them, so as to prevent many of the troops in Hampshire, Dorset, and Devon from moving to their place of assembly. Consequently large bodies of British troops were compelled to remain inactive, awaiting probable local attacks.
Meanwhile the invaders lost no time in extending their flanks preparatory to a general advance, and very quickly they were in possession of all the high ground from Polegate to Steyning Down, while Cossack patrols were out on the roads towards Cuckfield and West Grinstead, and demonstrations were made in the direction of Horsham, where a strong force of British troops had hastily collected.
As the long hot days passed, the Volunteers forming the line of defence south of London had not been idle. A brigade of infantry had been pushed forward to Balcombe, and with this the British were now watching the high ground that stretched across to Horsham.
The advance of the enemy had not, of course, been accomplished without terrible bloodshed. A division of the Regulars from Parkhurst, Portsmouth, and Winchester, which had been hurried down to Arundel to occupy a strong defensive position near that town, had come into contact with the enemy, and some desperate fighting ensued. Outposts had been thrown across the river Arun, and about midnight a patrol of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade from Petersfield, supported by infantry, had been suddenly attacked close to Ashington village. Under a vigorous fire they were unfortunately compelled to fall back fighting, and were almost annihilated, for it was only then ascertained that the enemy were moving in great force, evidently with the intention of obtaining possession of the heights as far as Cocking, West Dean, and Chichester, and so threaten Portsmouth from the land.
The survivors of this cavalry patrol succeeded in recrossing the Arun, but their losses were exceedingly heavy.
At daybreak the enemy were visible from Arundel, and shot and shell were poured into them from the batteries established along the hills to Houghton. So heavy was the British fire that the Russians were compelled to seek cover, and their advance in this direction was, for this time, checked.
The defenders, although occupying an excellent position, were, however, not sufficiently strong to successfully cope with the onward rush of invaders, and could do little else beyond watching them.
On the other hand, the Russians, displaying great tactical skill, and led by men who had thoroughly studied the geography of the South of England, had gained a distinct advantage, for they had secured their left flank from attack, so that they could now advance northward to Horsham and Balcombe practically unmolested.
The first general movement commenced at noon, when an advance was made by two enormous columns of the enemy, one of which proceeded by way of Henfield and Partridge Green and the other by Cooksbridge and Keynes, the third column remaining in Sussex to protect the base of operations. Meanwhile, Horsham had been occupied by a portion of the 2nd division of the 1st Army Corps with a 12-pounder, a 9-pounder field battery, and a field company of the Royal Engineers, and had been placed in a state of hasty defence. Walls had been loopholed, fences had been cut down, and various preparations made for holding the town.
Our forces were, nevertheless, sadly lacking in numbers. A cavalry patrol of one of our flying columns was captured by Cossacks at Cowfold, and the neglect on the part of the commander of this column to send out his advance guard sufficiently far, resulted in it being hurled back upon the main body in great disorder. Then, seeing the success everywhere attending their operations, the invaders turned their attention to the British line of communication between Horsham and Arundel, and succeeded in breaking it at Billinghurst and at Petworth.
Fierce fighting spread all over Sussex, and everywhere many lives were being sacrificed for Britain. The defenders, alas! with their weak and totally inadequate forces, could make but a sorry stand against the overwhelming masses of French and Russians, yet they acted with conspicuous bravery to sustain the honour of their native land. Villages and towns were devastated, rural homes were sacked and burned, and everywhere quiet, unoffending, but starving Britons were being put to the sword.
Over Sussex the reign of terror was awful. The pastures were stained by Britons' life-blood, and in all directions our forces, though displaying their characteristic courage, were being routed. At Horsham they were utterly defeated after a fierce and bloody encounter, in which the