WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
the first streak of daylight the anxious, excited crowds of men and women, surging up and down the principal streets of Manchester, were alarmed by the sounds of heavy firing. A terrible panic instantly ensued. The battle had actually commenced!
Half-starved operatives, with pale, wan faces, stood in groups in Deansgate, Market Street, Piccadilly, and London Road, while men, armed with any weapons they could obtain, rushed out along the main roads to the south of the city to assist in its defence. Lancashire men exhibited commendable patriotism, even though they had not hesitated to criticise the administration of our War Department; for now at the critical hour not a man flinched from his duty, both old and young taking up arms for their country's honour.
During the eventful night at all approaches to the city from the south the roads had been thrown into a state of hasty defence. A formidable barricade had been constructed at a point in the Stretford Road close to the Botanical Gardens to prevent the enemy from advancing up the Chester or Stretford New Roads; another was thrown up at the junction of Chorlton Road, Withington Road, Upper Chorlton Road, and Moss Lane West; a third opposite Rusholme Hall prevented any march up the Wilmslow Road; while others of minor strength blocked the Anson Road close to the Elms, the London Road at Longsight, the Hyde Road opposite Belle Vue Prison, and at Ivy Place in the Ashton Old Road.
These had all been raised out of any materials that came to hand. Barrels, brick rubbish, planks, doors, flooring of houses hastily torn up, and scaffold poles lashed together; in fact, the barriers were huge piles of miscellaneous and portable articles, even furniture from neighbouring houses being utilised, while lengths of iron railings and wire torn from fences played an important part in these hastily-built defences. Behind them, armed with rifles, shot-guns, pistols, knives, and any other weapon that came handiest, the men of Manchester waited, breathlessly impatient in the expectation of attack.
As dawn spread bright and rosy, and the mist cleared from the low meadows beside the Mersey, the distant firing was continuous, and the one or two shells that fell and burst in the centre of the city were precursory of an awful sanguinary struggle. Scarcely a person in that densely populated area had slept that night, and the streets were everywhere full, the most exciting and heartrending scenes being witnessed.
A great crowd that assembled in Albert Square was addressed by the Mayor from the steps of the Town Hall, and urged to strain every muscle to drive back the invaders, in order that the disaster at Birmingham should not be repeated. Even as he spoke, in the interval of wild cheering and the energetic singing of the National Anthem and "Rule, Britannia," the distant crackling of rifles and the low booming of field guns could be heard.
It was the din of battle — the catastrophe caused by the cunning spy Von Beilstein, who was still living in luxury in London, and who still posed as the friend of Geoffrey Engleheart and Violet Vayne!
Geoffrey was still with the Volunteers assisting in the defence of London, but the French spy who had sent the forged orders to our Navy had apparently made good his escape.
Here, in Manchester, the sound of the guns aroused that patriotic enthusiasm latent in the heart of every Briton. True, they were weary, famished, ill from lack of food, yet they were fiercely determined that the invader should never tread their streets, nor should incendiaries burn or Russian artillery destroy their handsome buildings — monuments of England's wealth and greatness. In St. Peter's Square, at a mass meeting attended by nearly twelve thousand people, a demonstration was made against the enemy, and it was resolved that every man should act his part in the struggle, and that no quarter should be shown the legions of the Tsar; while at another impromptu meeting held in Piccadilly, in the open space opposite the Infirmary, the conduct of the Russians before Birmingham was denounced; and some speakers, using violent language, lashed their hearers into a frenzy of mad excitement, causing an eager rush to the barricades in readiness for the terrible fray.
As the sun shone out pale and yellow in the stormy sky, the fighting spread quickly down the Mersey banks from Haughton away to Flixton. It became fiercest around Stockport, and over the level pastures the white smoke of rifles puffed from every bush, wall, and fence.
The Russians were the superior force, for, while all were trained soldiers, not more than a third of the defenders had taken the Queen's shilling, and not more than half of them had ever had an hour's drill in their lives. They were simply volunteers who had found their own arms and banded for the defence of their homes.
The soldiers of the Tsar, trained under the most rigorous discipline, had considerably improved in tactics, in drill, and in munitions of war since the Crimea, — a fact overlooked by the majority of Britons, — and they had now taken possession of every strategical position where batteries might be established. After fierce fighting over Lyme Park across to Norbury Hall, in which the Russians lost very heavily owing to the British gun fire from the railway embankment, a great charge was made by an enormous body of infantry, who succeeded, after several futile attempts, in carrying the position, and driving the British artillerymen back to the road which runs from Stockport to Marple.
The embankment which thus fell into the hands of the Muscovite infantry formed one of the strongest defences of Stockport, therefore they at once moved the guns up towards Davenport Station, and commenced shelling the city with the defenders' own guns!
The panic caused in Stockport was awful, when without warning shells commenced to explode in the crowded barricaded streets, but the Russians were not allowed to have things their own way for long. The British batteries on the opposite railway embankment between Heaton Norris and New Mills formed up at the junction almost opposite Davenport, and opened a terrific fire upon the captured guns.
For half an hour this continued, and the Russians, standing in an exposed position right on the sky-line, were being swept away by British shells, when suddenly the enemy were joined by reinforcements, whereupon a small force of British infantry, who had been brought quickly along, unperceived by the enemy from Marple, suddenly swarmed up the embankment at Norbury, and, charging along to the Russian position, added a strong rifle fire to that of their artillery.
The officer commanding the British batteries watched the infantry advance through his field glass, and in a few minutes suddenly ceased his fire, so as to allow the infantry to make the dash for which they were preparing. A heliograph signal was flashed from the batteries, and then, without hesitation, the order was given to charge.
It was a terribly exciting moment. If they succeeded they would in all probability save Stockport. If they were driven back the town was doomed.
With admirable pluck the British rushed upon the guns, and for a few minutes there was a fierce struggle hand to hand. Russians, although making a most desperate stand, were every moment being impaled on British bayonets, or, pierced by bullets, they rolled down the slopes into ditches covered in stagnant slime. Hacked to pieces by the small but gallant force of Britons, the enemy were forced at last to give in and retire, leaving more than half their number killed; but with admirable tact, the fugitives were forced down the bank nearest the British batteries. Thus they fell into a trap, for as soon as they attempted to recover themselves, and make a dash to reorganise their line of communications, two British Maxims uttered their sharp rattle, and the whole force were simply mowed down where they stood.
The fight had been a most desperate one, but, thanks to the heroic charge of the British infantry, Stockport was again safe, and the guns once more in the hands of her defenders.
Meanwhile, fighting of the fiercest possible description was taking place across the meadows lying between Norbury and Bramhall, and the Russians, unable to withstand the withering British fire, were gradually forced back to Cheadle Hulme, where they were surprised by the defenders and utterly routed. So great was the slaughter, that it is estimated that in this engagement alone, after the recapture of the guns by the British, over 4000 Russians were shot down and 3000 taken prisoners!
The Russians, finding how desperate was the resistance, and how heavily they were losing, quickly brought up strong reinforcements upon Cheadle, and, after a fiercely-contested conflict, succeeded in driving back the small British force, they being compelled to retreat back over the Mersey to Parr's Wood and Didsbury, afterwards blowing up the bridges, and keeping up a