“Up! Up behind me in the saddle!” cried Culnitz generously, as he reached John’s side. But the young Englishman had no idea of hazarding his comrade’s life by such a proceeding. His sword had flown from his hand as he fell. He now snatched Culnitz’s battle-axe from the saddle-bow and prepared to help his rescuer meet the trio of Turks who were now upon them. One of these, whose handsome horse and fine accoutrements proclaimed him to be a person of distinction, attacked the German captain from the side on which John stood. Ignoring the man on foot, the Turk swung his blade at the neck of the mounted officer. Culnitz was completely engaged with the other two assailants and the blow must have severed his head but, as the Turk’s arm swept forward, it met the battle-axe wielded by our hero, which shattered the bone. The next instant Smith had dragged the Turk from his horse and was in the saddle. The gallant young captains now had little difficulty in disposing of the two Moslems who confronted them and a few others who attempted to bar their return to their comrades.
The Colonel was overjoyed to see his two young officers reappear and their men greeted them with wild huzzas, for all had feared that they were cut off and lost. Meldritch’s regiment was now reduced to a scant three companies. Duplaine had met a glorious fate fighting single handed against ten of the enemy. His company—that is what was left of it—the Earl distributed amongst the other three and once more formed his men up for a fresh attack. They were fortunate at this juncture in finding themselves near a small stream at which men and horses assuaged their consuming thirst.
The hours had dragged slowly by to the anxious Duc who, surrounded by his staff, stood upon an eminence surveying the field. His breast swelled with pride at the many sights of valor presented by the constantly shifting scene. Never had commander witnessed more gallant service, but men are mortal and Mercœur knew that flesh and blood could not much longer endure the fearful strain. The Turks had put full forty thousand men upon the plain since the day begun and their troops were still arriving in a steady stream. Scarce ten thousand Christians remained fit to fight, and these were already pitted against some thirty thousand Moslems. Anxiously the commander’s gaze followed the slowly setting sun, and as Wellington in after years longed for the arrival of Blücher, so Mercœur now prayed for the fall of night.
Looking toward the road over which the Turkish troops, like a huge snake had poured all day, a sight met the Duc’s eyes that caused his heart to beat with apprehension. To his utter dismay he saw approaching a stately body of men on white chargers. He quickly recognized them as the Barukh Regiment, one of the finest in the army of the Sultan and two thousand strong.
“Now may Our Lady of Mercy support Meldritch,” cried Mercœur with emotion, “for surely no mortal help can save him in this pass!”
This deep concern on the part of the general was excited by the fact that Meldritch’s regiment, which we left reforming for another onslaught, was nearest to the Barukhs, who were evidently extending their ranks with the design of attacking it. Quickly the white horsemen advanced and Meldritch, when he was apprised of his danger, found his corps enveloped in a rough triangle, the base of it formed by the body of the enemy he had been on the point of charging. At a glance his soldier’s eye recognized the superiority of the Barukh cavalry and he wheeled two companies about to face the graver danger, whilst to Vahan, with the third, was entrusted the task of preventing a rear attack by the smaller body of the enemy.
They were seven hundred to three thousand. To charge upon their jaded horses must have been to break themselves and become engulfed in that mass of splendid horsemen. The Earl, therefore, decided to await the attack. It was the climax of the fight—the most critical moment of the day. On the result of the coming conflict depended the issue of the battle. The Earl turned in his saddle and addressed his men.
“These be worthy of our steel,” he cried, pointing with his outstretched sword towards the oncoming Barukhs. “Our commander watches us. Let every man strike for Christ, for honor and for life.” “For Faith and Meldritch!” responded the men heartily.
The Turks charged with courageous fury. Seven hundred pistols were discharged full in their faces, emptying hundreds of saddles. They recoiled but came again almost immediately. Once more they received a volley at close range and this time fell back in disorder, their ranks thrown into confusion by the great number of riderless horses that ran wildly amongst them. The Earl deemed the moment favorable for a counter-attack.