The Russians, stunned with the terrific cries knew not which way to turn. Where they least expected an attack, they found themselves grappled by the active mountaineers, who seemed to leap from the cliffs above their heads, dealing death around them with their sharp broad daggers, then rapidly disappearing among the rocks, leaping from craig to craig, where none could follow. Hundreds were shot down by the silent arrows of their invisible foe; nor, as they gazed with fear around, could they tell whence the shafts proceeded. The soldiers saw their comrades next to them sink down, struck by those winged messengers of death. Their ranks were thinning fast, nor could they defend themselves, nor attack their aggressors; but in these trying moments, the stern discipline, even of slaves, triumphed over their fears, and rescued them from the hands of the most daring and courageous warriors. The officers shewed courage worthy of a nobler and better cause: exerting themselves to the utmost, with calm voices, keeping up the men’s spirits, closing their ranks, and leading them on in order.
But could it have been real courage which enabled the men to endure this terrific storm? It was rather a dull and heartless apathy. They saw their fellows fall; and knew that they were released from a life of privation and tyrannical suffering; and cared not if it should be their fate to be the next victims. It mattered but little whether death should come by famine, the sword, or by pestilence; too certainly would they fall by one or the other.
The army, with thinned ranks, continued to advance, protected, as they defiled into more open ground, by their light howitzers carried on the backs of horses; every now and then keeping the slender force of their daring assailants at a distance, as they could bring their guns to bear on them. They marched as fast as they were capable of doing; but they were not yet secure; for the Seraskier of the Circassians, a brave, but a sagacious and cautious leader; though he would not allow his followers to attempt competing with the Russians on the plain; attacked their rear and flank incessantly, until, when near Anapa, he was joined by another larger body of the patriots.
The whole army of the enemy might now have been destroyed, had the mountaineers possessed artillery. As it was, they escaped destruction solely through the garrison of Anapa making a sortie to their rescue, with artillery and a strong body of Cossacks. The harassed remnant at length reached that fortress.
“Mashallah!” cried the old warrior, as he looked angrily towards their retiring columns when they entered the fort; “We’ve repaid them for the surprise they attempted to give your noble father. They will not forget this day’s work, for a long time to come. Allah! if we had some of their light guns, they would not have escaped as they have done. But fear not, my sons, we will meet them again before long.”
There seemed every probability that the campaign in this part of the Caucasus would be soon finished for that year. The Hadji, therefore, with his followers, returned to the camp on the Ubin to wait further events.
The preceding is a faithful account of the style of warfare the Russians have to engage in with the mountaineers of the Caucasus, in which thousands of their soldiers annually fall victims. But what matters such a loss to the government of St. Petersburg? They have millions of slaves to replace those who fall; and they have resolved to subdue the barbarians in spite of the rivers of innocent blood which may flow. May Heaven grant that the bravery and patriotism of the high-minded and gallant Circassians may be completely triumphant over all the efforts of their slavish and despotic oppressors!