The melée became general, and every one could show his personal skill. Demid Popovich had already speared two soldiers and thrown two officers from their steeds, saying, "Those are good horses; I have long wished to have such horses!" And he drove the horses a long way out into the field, calling to the Cossacks standing there to catch them. He again went into the crowd; once more attacked the officers thrown down; killed one of them, and throwing his arkan round the neck of the other,[34] tied it to his saddle and dragged him over the field, after possessing himself of his costly sword and the purse full of ducats, which hung at his belt.
Kobita, a good Cossack and a young one, too, fought with one of the bravest Polish warriors, and long was their fight. They were already hand to hand: the Cossack got the uppermost, and, after throwing down his adversary, plunged his sharp Turkish knife into his breast; but he took no heed of himself, and on the very spot a hot bullet struck him on the temple. He who killed him was one of the most notable among the lords; a handsome knight of ancient and princely descent. Slim as a poplar, he rode on his chestnut steed. Many were the noble knightly feats he had already accomplished; two Zaporoghians had he hewn in twain; Theodore Korj, a good Cossack, had he thrown on the dust with his horse; he shot the horse, and pierced the Cossack under it with his spear; many heads, many hands had he hewn down; he had killed the Cossack Kobita by sending a bullet through his temple.
"This is the man with whom I should wish to try my strength!" cried Kookoobenko, the ataman of the Nezamaikovskoï kooren; and spurring his horse, he rushed up close behind him and gave a fearful howl, which made all around shudder. The Pole tried to turn his horse round to confront his foe; but the horse would not turn: terrified by the fearful shriek, it dashed aside, and Kookoobenko fired his gun at the rider. The bullet entered his shoulder-blade, and down went the Pole on the ground; still, even then, he yielded not, but tried to strike once more at his foe; but his weakened arm fell beneath the weight of his sabre, and Kookoobenko taking, with both his hands, his heavy sword, drove it right into the Pole's blanched mouth: the blade knocked out two white teeth, cut the tongue in two, ran through the throat, and went far into the ground, nailing the knight for ever to the dank earth. Like a fountain spirted forth the high-descended noble blood, red as the berries of the water elder, and dyed the yellow gold-embroidered jacket.
And Kookoobenko had already left him, and, along with the Cossacks of his kooren, cut his way into another crowd. "Eh! why did he leave on the ground such costly finery!" said Borodatyi, the Omanskoï ataman, riding from his kooren to the spot where lay the officer killed by Kookoobenko. "I have killed with my own hand seven officers, and have not yet seen such finery on any one." And giving way to cupidity, Borodatyi bent down in order to take possession of the costly arms; he had already seized a Turkish knife, with a handle set with precious stones: had untied from the belt a purse full of ducats: had taken from the neck a pouch of fine linen and costly silver, containing a girl's ringlet, which had been carefully kept as a souvenir; but he did not hear how, behind his back, there had rushed upon him the red-nosed ensign, who had already been thrown from his saddle by Borodatyi, and had received a good deep slash at his hands. The ensign lifted his sword, and struck it with all his might on the bended neck of Borodatyi. No good had come of cupidity! Away sprang the mighty head, and down fell the beheaded body, making a large pool of blood on the ground. Up to the skies flew the hard Cossack's soul, frowning and filled with indignation, and, at the same time, astonished at departing so quickly from so strong a body. Hardly had the ensign taken hold of the ataman's crown-lock, in order to tie it to his saddle, when a stern avenger was there.
As a goshawk, who seems to swim in the sky, and who, after having made many circles with his strong wings, suddenly remains stationary in the air, and then darts with arrow-like speed on some quail chirping by the highway side, so Ostap, the son of Tarass, suddenly darted on the ensign, and threw the arkan round his neck. Still redder grew the red face of the ensign, as the fatal knot tightened round his throat; he tried to use his pistol, but his cramped hand could not take aim, and the bullet flew harmlessly through the field. Ostap detached from the ensign's saddle a silken rope, which the latter kept for the purpose of tying his prisoners, and bound him hand and foot with his own rope, hooked its end to his saddle, and dragged him across the field, shouting to the Cossacks of the Omanskoï kooren to go and render the last honours to their ataman.
As soon as the Cossacks heard that their ataman Borodatyi was killed, they left the battle-field, rushed to take away his body, and began on the spot to deliberate as to whom they should choose for their ataman. At last they said, "What is the use of deliberating? no one would do better as a koorennoïataman than young Boolba, Ostap; true, he is the youngest among us, but he has as much sense as the oldest." Ostap, taking off his cap, thanked his brother Cossacks for the honour, did not refuse it, either on account of youth or of inexperience, knowing that it was of no use to do so now in battle time. Instead of this, he led them into the thickest of the fray, and showed them that he well deserved to be their ataman.
In the meanwhile, the Poles felt that the fight had grown too hot for them; they retired and ran across the field, in order to form their ranks at the other end of it. The diminutive colonel gave a signal to four fresh companies who stood near the gate, and grape-shot flew thence into the crowd of Cossacks; but the volley did but little mischief: it flew into the herd of the Cossacks' bullocks, who were stupidly gazing on the fight. The terrified bullocks roared, turned on the Cossack encampment, broke the waggons to pieces, and trampled some men under their feet. But Tarass, rushing at this moment from his ambuscade, with loud cries threw himself with his regiment across their way. The whole of the maddened herd of one accord turned round, and, dashing into the Polish regiments, threw confusion into the cavalry, mixed, crushed, and broke asunder the ranks.
"Thanks to ye, bullocks!" cried the Zaporoghians. "Campaign service have ye borne hitherto, and now war service have ye rendered also!" and with fresh strength they pressed on the enemy. Many were the foes who were slaughtered there. Many were those who distinguished themselves —Metelitza, Shilo, Pissarenkos, Vovtoozenko, and many more. The Poles saw that no good could come of it; the ensign was hoisted, and the signal was given to open the gate. Creaking went the iron-nailed gate, and in went the exhausted and dust-covered riders, like sheep into the sheep-fold. Many of the Zaporoghians wished to pursue them; but Ostap detained his Cossacks, saying, "Farther, farther away, brothers, from the walls! it is not well to draw too near them." And he was right; for a volley of grape-shot came from the walls, and did much mischief. At this moment the Koschevoï rode up to Ostap, and praised him, saying, "Though thou art but a new ataman, yet thou leadest thy Cossacks like an old one!" And old Tarass turned round to see who the new ataman was, and beheld his Ostap in front of the Omansko? kooren, his cap stuck on one side and the ataman's mace in his hand. "There, just look at that one!" said he, gazing at him; and joyful felt old Boolba, and began to thank the Cossacks for the honour bestowed on his son.
The Cossacks retired, preparing to return to their encampment, when the Poles reappeared on the walls; but their dresses were now torn to pieces, many costly coats were besmeared with gore, and dust covered the fine brass helmets.
"Did you tie us with your ropes?" cried the Zaporoghians from below.