Osman Pasha was very strict in putting down pillaging, and an instance occurred on the same afternoon of the severity with which he punished any infraction of orders in that respect. As the column passed through one of the small Bulgarian villages which were sprinkled at frequent intervals along the line of route, a small field of tobacco enclosed by a brushwood fence was espied, and a Turkish sergeant who was pining for a cigarette could not resist the temptation, but climbed through the fence and filled his pockets with the dry leaf. Osman Pasha happened to see the incident; and, putting his horse at the fence, he jumped over into the tobacco-field, seized the sergeant and tore the stripes from his shoulder, degrading him to the ranks for his insubordination.
After we had marched about five miles beyond the farmhouse where we had got the honey, we camped for the night, and a very unpleasant night it was. The bivouac was pitched in the middle of a wide expanse of swampy ground, which was so moist that the water oozed through as one sat on the grass. I procured a plank, and lay on it all night, snatching a few minutes of fitful slumber at intervals.
At about eleven o'clock I was roused by a terrific rattle of infantry fire, and we all leaped to our feet firmly convinced that the long expected Russian attack had come at last. All was confusion as the men hastily threw themselves into formation and rammed the cartridges into their rifles; but the firing stopped as unexpectedly as it had begun, and we were left staring into the darkness in anxious suspense. Soon we discovered that it was a false alarm. A white horse which had been wounded in the fighting round Lovtcha had dragged himself painfully all the way from that vicinage after our column, recognizing the bugle calls of the army to which he belonged. But the poor brute paid the penalty of devotion, for our sentries mistook him in the darkness for a Russian vedette, and an alarm was sounded which brought about a volley of musketry fire that put him out of his pain at once.
Next morning the column started very early, and marched through beautifully timbered, undulating country. We saw a couple of Russian vedettes galloping away from one of the Bulgarian villages, and guessed that the enemy were in the neighbourhood. But they kept out of our way, and did not provoke an engagement.
At about two o'clock in the afternoon, as I was riding with the Circassians in front of a battery of field artillery, I heard a terrific explosion, and, looking round, saw a column of smoke behind me fully a hundred feet in height. There were a number of small black fragments falling through the smoke, and I found that an explosion had taken place in one of the gun carriages. The ammunition had gone off in some mysterious way, and the black fragments falling through the air were all that was left of the two unfortunate gunners who had been sitting on the ammunition box. Both the wheel horses were killed on the spot, and one of the drivers was badly injured. No one ever knew how that mysterious explosion occurred. That night we camped in the open again, and at eleven o'clock next morning we arrived at Plevna. I went to my quarters, had a wash, and then resumed my work at the hospital. But there was not much to do, and at two o'clock I was free to take a walk through the town.
To my intense surprise I saw a man who looked like an Englishman; and as I had not seen an Englishman for several months, I shouted to him, half in Turkish and half in English, to ask him who he was. He proved to be a man called Drew Gay, the correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph, and he wore an extraordinary nondescript get-up, including a little forage cap, patent leather riding-boots, and an enormous cavalry sword. He was on his way to pay a visit to the kaimakan, and was accompanied by a German artist named Lauri.
This little Lauri was a charming fellow, and full of the spirit of adventure. He was a great friend of Hamdi Bey, who was the son of Edim Pasha, the grand vizier, and in this way he was able to exercise sufficient influence to secure a firman authorizing him to visit Plevna. Lauri had lived in Cairo for some time, and had earned some notoriety by painting a portrait of the Khedive.
Next day occurred the third and greatest battle of Plevna—a battle in which the enormous value of the breech-loader when backed by entrenchments was fully demonstrated, as were also the magnificent pluck and endurance of the Turkish troops.