Our ships had some experience of attacking forts (in the Black Sea) on the 17th of October 1854. We did not damage the forts. On the other hand, we received a good dose in return: wooden walls and granite forts are different things. Then, again, the combined Fleets must indeed have paralysed the Russian Fleet, which was so much inferior. But it was a pity that when we sailed for the Baltic (and still more so when we got there) we were led to think of mighty deeds in store for us. When our medals were presented to us, with the bit of blue and yellow ribbon, many felt that they had not deserved them: and the trinkets were kept in hiding.
I remained in England until the following January. Then, being quite re-established in health, I received orders to rejoin thePrincess Royaloff Sebastopol. It was while I was at home that the news of Balaclava and Inkerman arrived.Many of our friends and relations were laid low on those battlefields. I can well recall the wave of mixed joy and sorrow that swept over England as the detailed accounts came slowly to hand. My uncle, Lord George Paget, at the head of his regiment, the Fourth Light Dragoons, commanded the second line in that fatal and memorable charge, where his regiment was well-nigh destroyed. It was to him, as he was riding off the field, that were addressed those words by the French Marshal, which have since passed into proverbial use: “C’est magnifique; mais cela n’est pas la guerre.” One of Lord George’s troopers, who (I think) was his servant, was made prisoner, and for some reason was taken before the Tzar of Russia. Observing the man standing six foot two in his stockings, His Imperial Majesty inquired what regiment he had belonged to, and, being told that he was in a Light-Cavalry regiment, said, “Well, if you are a Light-Cavalry man, what the devil are the heavies?”
I took passage to the Crimea in a hired transport, and we sailed from Plymouth early in January 1855. We carried a few troops, and a large quantity of stores for the army. Touching at Gibraltar and Malta, we arrived at Constantinople after a three weeks’ passage.
I shall never forget my first sight of the entrance to the Golden Horn. Those who have seen itwill bear me out when I say that of its kind the view is second to none in the world. It was a beautiful still morning, and as the sun rose and reflected its golden rays on all the minaret towers and the great edifice of St. Sophia, one seemed in fairyland. The caiques, the colouring, the costumes, and the novelty of this oriental scene—all enchanted me.
Before leaving England I had been told to quit the transport at Constantinople, and to report myself on board theCarodoc, the man-of-war appointed to our Ambassador as his despatch vessel. I was most kindly received by dear old Derriman, the Captain, who told me to present myself up at the Embassy, where Lord Stratford de Redcliffe wished me to stay until I could get a passage to rejoin my ship on the Black Sea.
That great man made a deep impression on me. Tall and upright, he was as fine a figure as ever stepped: a man of perfect features and iron will: a grand seigneur; and the world knew it. He kindly told me to make myself at home, and to remain at the Embassy until he was ready to start in theCarodocfor the Crimea. He was going to the front to hold an Investiture of the Bath, and would probably sail in two or three days. This gave me intense pleasure: I rejoiced at the prospect of becoming acquainted with Constantinople. Lady Stratford de Redcliffe and hercharming daughters made things doubly pleasant. That most lovely and engaging of women, Lady George Paget, my cousin (aunt by marriage), also was staying at the Embassy. Among the staff of the Embassy were many men who made their marks in after life—Odo Russell, Allison, Count Pisani, and others,—from whom, one and all, I received the kindest attention. It was indeed an interesting time: I saw everything, and had a sort of generallascia passare.
I was soon called upon to assist in the correspondence department at the Embassy, and many were the despatches which I copied. Every one was overwhelmed with business, and I was only too glad to render what assistance I could. His Lordship was often at work most of the night, receiving and dictating despatches; his breakfast hour varied from nine to twelve, according to his hours of rest. The Embassy at Constantinople in those days was, I imagine, a position of unique and supreme importance in diplomacy. The postal and the telegraphic services were in their infancy. In copying Lord Stratford’s despatches I was not long in discovering how frequently he acted on his own initiative and responsibility, without reference to the powers that were at home. No such independence would now be tolerated, nor would it be possible. It is one thing to recommend your views before the home authorities forapproval; quite another, to act on the spur of the moment, and to take the sole responsibility on your own shoulders, as Lord Stratford did. The Turks held him in unbounded fear and respect.
The Bosphorus was a great sight. Ships of war were passing to and fro; transport and provision ships were constantly going and coming. With Lady Stratford, I went over to Scutari Hospital to see the crowds of wounded and invalids from the front, and was presented to Miss Nightingale. How she worked!
Constantinople in those days was purely Turkish. Modern customs were not in vogue: the Frank dress was infrequent. The bazaars were rough and uncivilised. Not until some time after the war was there any marked improvement in the customs of the natives. Trade soon became more general, and, owing to freer intercourse with foreigners, the more enlightened Turk began to shake off the lethargic Eastern style, adapting himself to the more modern ways of civilisation. I doubt much whether the change has produced good results as far as the Turk is concerned.
While awaiting the Ambassador’s departure for the Crimea, I made excursions to the environs. The sweet waters of Asia were most interesting. Rowed about in the Embassy caique, I visited most of the palaces, gardens, and other placesworth seeing. Everything was novel. Englishmen were at that time held in high esteem by the Turk. “Buono Johnnie” was the cry everywhere, and nothing could have exceeded the Turk’s rude civilities. I was much amused at the way the kavasses cleared the road for one. When you were walking in the bazaars, or in the streets, which were crowded, men and women were sent flying on the approach of your kavass, who generally wielded a big stick. And the swarms of dogs—how curious it all seemed to my young imagination!
TheCarodocsoon sailed, and in less than thirty-six hours we found ourselves steaming into Balaclava harbour, which was almost landlocked. On passing the towering perpendicular cliffs I could not help picturing to myself the scene of carnage of the previous October, when so many vessels, with their living freights, were lost during a frightful gale on that iron-bound coast. Before we got in I caught a distant sight of Sebastopol and the large allied Fleets at anchor off the coast. My ship was lying in Kazatch Bay. As there was no chance of joining her for a few days, His Excellency asked me to accompany him in his daily expeditions to the front. We were a goodly party. All the ladies from the Embassy accompanied us. We rode or drove to all the battlefields and objects of interest at the front,lunching generally at some Headquarter Staff, and on one occasion at Lord Raglan’s. The battlefield of Inkerman was still full ofdébris. I was astonished to see so many boots lying about—and poor fellows’ bones as well. I carried off a Russian musket, besides other small articles.
At Lord Raglan’s I came across Frank Burgesh—afterwards Lord Westmorland—looking as handsome and as fresh as he was when hunting with the Fitz-William hounds.
Subsequently we visited the ground of the famous Balaclava charge, and saw some of the remains of the shattered cavalry. The few horses surviving were in a sorry plight. Their manes and tails were much reduced: actually the horses, from sheer hunger, had been gnawing one another. Lord George Paget had scarcely any horses fit for duty the day after the charge. The Tenth Hussars, with splendid horses, had just arrived from India, and, mustering strong, were much more numerous than the whole of the Light Brigade.
On one occasion, while I was with Lord Stratford, there was a review of 25,000 French troops; and I was much struck by their soldier-like bearing.
Within a few days I rejoined my ship, then lying off Sebastopol, delighted with all I had seen, and with Lord Stratford’s kindness to me. Onceon board again, I soon shook down among old messmates and friends. There had been many changes among the officers; but my best friend, Dick Hare, was still there. The three bad officers had been weeded out. Consequently, our mess was comfortable.
In a letter to my mother I remarked that I much preferred the Black Sea to the Baltic, and that I felt happier—more reconciled to the Service. There was always the sure expectation of seeing active service, and possibly of being in the thick of it.
The duties assigned to me were to keep daily the morning and in the evening the six-to-eight watch. This went on without a break for eight months. I soon became accustomed to getting up at 4A.M., and in the fine summer months it was pleasant to paddle about the decks during the washing process. When the ship’s company went to breakfast, at three bells (5.30A.M.), I could get three-quarters of an hour to myself, alone in the gun-room, for my cup of ship’s cocoa and biscuit; to be followed by reading or writing letters, pondering over my letters from home, and a glance at my Prayer Book, as to which I remembered my mother’s last injunctions.
How much I relished my 5A.M.cocoa! A hungry middy does enjoy it; though it takes the sharp edge off the eight o’clock breakfast, whichconsisted of (perhaps) a piece of toughest beef-steak—any part of the animal being dignified by that name. The poor animals, which had ploughed Turkish soil for many a long year, were slaughtered the afternoon before, between two guns, on the main deck. When we were not favoured with these mighty bullocks, it was a case of salt pork or junk (salt beef); these were usually chopped up into square bits, and curried with a ghastly yellow powder. Sometimes we had boxes of grub (as it was called) sent out from home; the grub was much appreciated, and we usually shared it with our chums. Mostly it consisted of jams, potted meats, and preserved milk; but in those days potted meats were in their infancy, and nothing like so good as now. The condensed milk, though to a certain extent welcomed, was nasty stuff: some of the midshipmen preferred spreading it on their bread to putting it in their tea.
During the daytime my duties were very various. We were supposed to go to the Naval Institute for two or three hours in the forenoon; but going was a rare occurrence. There was much duty to be done away from the ship in boats—provisioning, coaling, landing stores for the front, besides attending constant signals from the Flag-Ship. This, together with gun drilling and other exercises, took up a great deal of one’s time.
Occasionally I got a day’s leave. Then I wentto the front, and dined with some pal in the Brigade of Guards or other regiment, shared his tent for a night, and had a peep at the trenches next day. We could see a good deal of the fighting from the ship: the sorties at night were lit up by bursting shells. By its lighted fuze I often watched the trajectory of the shell while circling through the air, beautifully timed to burst on approaching the ground.
Having to be up so early every morning, I was generally in my hammock by 9.30P.M.(sometimes earlier), and often fell asleep while the band was playing on the main deck, hard by the officers’ smoking resort. Smoking was kept uncommonly strict in those days. The hours of the ship company’s meals were the only times allowed during the daytime; in the evenings, from after evening quarters until just before the rounds were gone, at 9.30; and no officer could smoke until he was eighteen. I became an inveterate smoker, and once was within an ace of being turned out of theExcellent, gunnery-ship at Portsmouth (while undergoing my examination), for smoking with another fellow on the extreme fore part of the main deck, a locality well known to the naval officers. The sentry smelt the fumes, and reported us. We had tried to get out of a scuttle; but it was considerably too small, and we had to surrender, feeling it was all up, and that we shouldhave to suffer next day. However, somehow we got off with a deuce of a wigging.
On another occasion I infuriated my senior officer by smoking while on duty. I was serving in the Mediterranean under that great disciplinarian, Sir William Martin (nicknamed Pincher Martin). I was officer of the guard, and had a long nasty pull round from the Grand Harbour at Valetta to the quarantine harbour, to get the Admiral’s despatches from the P. and O. steamer. It was a blowy cold night: so I allowed all my boat’s crew to light their pipes. On arriving at Admiralty House with the Commander-in-Chief’s bag of despatches, I was kept waiting in the hall while the old gentleman was at dinner. After his meal, the Admiral descended the staircase, and, in his usual curt way, said, “You are the officer of the guard, I presume? What sort of a night is it?” I having answered his questions, he said, “You have been smoking, sir!”—“Yes, sir: I have. I have had a long pull—and a very wet one—round from the other harbour.” “This is very disgraceful,” quoth he: “I will see about this to-morrow.” However, I heard no more of it. I always thought that the restriction as to smoking was carried much too far in the Navy. When I commanded ships, I used to allow much more licence than the Queen’s Regulations authorised, and I never found cause to repent of the indulgence. Smoking was considereda great solace and help, and many a dull afternoon was got through by my officers and men over their pipes. The custom of the Service was to allow a sort of half-holiday on Thursday afternoon. The pipe went, “Make and mend clothes.” That was a curious definition of a half holiday; but on those occasions every one was allowed to smoke, and it was adies nonwith the ship’s company.
At 9P.M.the youngsters, as a rule, were supposed to leave the gun-room; the signal for this arrangement was called “Sticking a Fork in the Beam.” I cannot remember ever seeing one so placed; but that was the adopted term. After a boy had passed his four yearly exams he was considered an oldster, and assumed a position of more importance. The chief benefit attached to his promotion was an extension of limited wine and extra bill. At ten, in harbour, gun-room lights were put out. The master-at-arms (the chief of the ship’s police) came round with his lantern, and was supposed to see the gun-room cleared of its inmates. If the seniors were singing, and there was some particular hilarity going on, the master-at-arms might be requested to ask for an extra half-hour’s lights. He would then go to the officer of the watch for permission. Much depended on the conscience of the officer.
The gun-room officers always dined at noon at sea, and at two or half-past two in harbour; but bydegrees these hours became later, though it depended a good deal on the view which the Captain took of the arrangements. Dinner at noon and a wretched tea at about 5P.M.made a boy feel mortal hungry by 7 or 7.30: so the steward was generally in requisition for a pot of sardines or for a lobster. This was considered an extra; and, as you were limited to 15s. a month of extras, one had to be very careful, and to economise one’s consumption. A certain amount of gambling went on over these extras. We “read” for each article; which, being interpreted, means that, instead of tossing up as to who should be charged for the supper, you selected the number of a letter of a specified line on a page—e.g., two two right, or three three left (as the case might be): the nearest letter to A won the supper. At Malta, sometimes, I have been away all day getting biscuit from the factory and filling launch after launch with bags of biscuits: so I used to lunch off newly-made biscuit and raw carrots or parsnips that wereen routeon board. I relished the provender: a middy’s digestion is pretty tough. It was considered a great honour to be asked to dine when at sea with the Captain. If one’s stock of clean white shirts was exhausted, one generally pulled out all the worn shirts and selected the best to wear at his table. At half-past two in the afternoon watch any middy on duty told the officer of his watch that he was asked to dine with the Captain,and no power on earth could prevent you from leaving the deck. Occasionally the Ward Room officers asked one to dine, which was a more enjoyable invitation, as you usually sat next to your pal lieutenant or officer, who was in the habit of lending you his cabin, or generally looked after your interests. It was a great boon having a cabin to fall back on, and when fatigued to be able to rest on a comfortable bed. Otherwise there was nothing but a hard teak deck to lie on, and a sextant box, or (what we often used) a couple of nautical almanacks for a pillow.
On many of our Sundays, while blockading Sebastopol, with everything quiet on deck and below, and perhaps not a shot being fired from the land batteries, I have gone down into the gun-room and seen rows of middies, mates, and other officers stretched out all over the deck fast asleep—and in the fore-part of the ship most of the ship’s company. Sailors are adepts at sleeping in quiet moments. Small blame to them; for when at sea a constant watch and watch for weeks and months is kept, and there is little continuous rest. I always thought it hard lines that after keeping the middle watch—from midnight to 4A.M.—you had to be out of your hammock by 6.30. Often turning in wet and cold at four, you could not get off to sleep, particularly in bad weather, because of the noise; and just as you dozed off you heard the solemn grunt of yourhammock-man, “Turn out, sir: it’s five bells” (6.30A.M.); and the longer you kept him waiting, the shorter was his breakfast hour. How one could have wished him farther—anywhere but bothering one! And then his dirty hands pulling your sheets and pillows about, so as to place them away properly in the hammock, and that it should appear on deck in its proper shape to be stowed in the hammock-netting, well scrutinised by some very strict officer of the watch or mate of the deck! Woe betide you if the hammock looked too full of bedding, or in excess of what his critical eye might notice! I have often seen an unfortunate sleepy mid roll out of his hammock, cover himself with a blanket or a rug, and give himself another hour or so of rest by lying on the top of his chest, his own little home; but not much comfort attached to it if you were over four foot six in height.
What I used to hate most—in hot weather especially—was that morning evolution of crossing yards at eight o’clock. Just washed and dressed, perhaps in a clean pair of duck trousers, up you had to go to the main or fore-top, running up tarred rigging, or (just as bad) finding the rigging full of coal-dust and smoke. One often came down positively black, hot, and uncomfortable, one’s trousers ruined; and there you were, for perhaps the rest of the day, as another wash was out of the question. In after days wiser heads—at any rate, officers with more forethought—left off making you wear your ducks on this particular occasion, and the comfort and convenience was a great boon to officers and men. But somehow, in my early days at sea, very little was studied as to convenience and comfort for officers and men.
In much later days I was serving in a line-of-battle ship belonging to the Channel Fleet. We wintered at Portland. It happened to be a very severe winter—so much so that at times our rigging and sails were frozen. Twice a week the ship’s company had to wash their clothes, which generally took from an hour to an hour and a half. Consequently, the routine was put a little out of joint. Time had to be made up somehow. The usual hour to turn out was at 5 or 5.30A.M., to wash decks; but on washing mornings I have seen the men turned out at 7 bells in the middle watch (3.30), on a freezing morning, to scrub hammocks and wash clothes, with nothing but a wretched lanthorn and a farthing dip to see by; and this was the only light for ten or a dozen men to wash their clothes by. After this the decks had to be washed in icy cold water, and at 6.30 these wretched frozen men consoled themselves with breakfast of cocoa and ship’s biscuit—possibly with bread and butter, if the bum-boat had come alongside; but, as it generally blew a gale, Mr. Bum-boat did not appear so early. I can vouch for these remnantsof barbarism: I was what was termed Mate of the Main Deck, and had to be up to see the business carried out.
During May the combined fleets sailed on an expedition to Kertch, at the entrance of the Sea of Azov. We left some ships to remain off Sebastopol; but the bulk went to Kertch, and shipped a goodly quantity of troops. ThePrincess Royaltook on board the 90th Regiment of the line, besides detachments.
We expected opposition to our landing; but, as light-draught vessels could easily command and cover the landing, no Rooskies appeared to oppose us. We soon had our army ashore on a sandy beach not many miles from Kertch itself. Next day, while we were on the line of march, my uncle, Lord Clarence, happened to be in close conversation with Sir Edmund Lyons, when the Commander-in-Chief, suddenly observing me near at hand, called me up, and said, “Here, youngster: can you talk French?” On my answering “Yes,” he said, “Go at once and find the French General in Command” (pointing me out the direction in which I should find him), “and tell him that I wish the English Jack to be hoisted alongside the Tricolour as soon as that fort is captured. Mind and say so very civilly and in your best French.” Off I ran as fast as my legs would carry me across the plain. Singling outwhat appeared to me to be a body of French Staff-Officers, I asked the first among them to point me out the General in Command. Luckily, that potentate was among the bunch of officers. I felt nervous and shy; but, mustering up courage, I stood, cap in hand, delivering my orders. To my horror, he seemed to demur, and asked me a heap of questions before he at last consented and desired me to inform the Admiral that his wishes should be carried out. I had been told to bring back an answer; but for the life of me I could not find the Commander-in-Chief for a long time. However, when I did find him he seemed pleased. He said, “I see the Union Jack is up alongside the French flag. Well done, my boy! What’s your name, and who is your father? Tell your Commander I am much pleased with you.” I did feel proud.
There was no opposition at Kertch, and that evening part of the troop bivouacked in the town and suburbs.
Whether they resulted from the pent-up life of the soldiers and sailors, or from the mere longing for a spree, I do not know; but the looting and breaking into cellars, and the consequent trouble, were very discreditable. I supposed it was one of the horrors of war. Among other officers, I was sent ashore next day to patrol the streets with a strong picket, and endeavour to keepthe inhabited houses free from molestation. I took many disorderly men of both armies prisoners, as well as lusty Jacks of the Fleet. However, fair and square looting seemed to be winked at. Our mids went ashore, and bagged no end of cases of champagne. On a subsequent occasion my respected uncle did not scruple at having a wretched old piano taken on board thePrincess Royalby way of enabling his dear little nephew to keep up his music! We lay some little time off Kertch while our gun-vessels and launches of the Fleet were employed playing wholesale destruction of grain and stores in the Sea of Azov; and they had some sharp fighting into the bargain.
I used to land occasionally, and in strolling about the camps came across old friends that I did not even know to be attached to the army before Sebastopol. Two of them were old cricketing friends: so, no doubt, we got on the noble game and cricket grounds many miles away.
On the 24th of May the Fleet weighed—or part of it, bound to a very strongly fortified place, Anapa, where we expected heavy fighting. Splinter netting was got up; masts and yards were struck; everything was made ready for an attack. Next morning, when approaching this place, theHannibal, line-of-battle ship, was sent on ahead to look out and report by signals whether the forts were ready for us. To our dismay (I thoughtso then), we found the forts evacuated, and partly blown up. They were excessively strong, and stood on a very commanding position on high cliffs. We should have had our work cut out to subdue them. How bloodthirsty the middies were! I suppose I was too young to realise the horrors of a naval action, and of seeing our decks strewn with killed and wounded. I never could understand why the Russians blew up and deserted the place. On landing, soon after anchoring, we could readily observe the strength of the place. Some of the works were blown up, and the guns were spiked or taken away—possibly buried. Leave to land was granted; but on no account were we to enter the forts—for fear of slow matches and explosions.
We fraternised with some very picturesque Circassians. I longed to buy some of their accoutrements, which they seemed ready and willing to sell; but, alas! I had no money with me. However, a happy thought struck me. I happened to be wearing a new pair of duck trousers. Thinking that I might tempt them with the shiny brace buttons, I went round a corner and cut the trinkets off. The effect was magical, and enabled me to purchase some of the cartouche-cases in which they carried their powder slung round their waists, or sewn into their rough coats across their chests. They say that exchange isno robbery. The aphorism was well illustrated. Soon we were back again to our old anchorage off Sebastopol, feeling that we had had a wild-goose chase. Indeed, we were all beginning to be weary of not having the chance of distinguishing ourselves from on board our respective ships. Luckily, my uncle was of an enterprising nature. He formed an idea that it would be a good thing to worry the forts by firing into them after dark. To do this, it was necessary to have leading lights on the coast, so as to guide the ships in at night; and these he placed on the sea-coast on the extreme left of the French position.
The Admiral lent him a paddle-sloop, theSpitfire, commanded by an able officer, one Spratt; and for several nights I accompanied my uncle while the operations were going on. Our only danger was that we might be discovered by the Russian guard-boats that were always prowling about outside the harbour mouth. Somehow, they never saw us. After a week’s work at placing the lights, everything was in readiness for the night attack. The lights were very ingeniously placed, showing different colours on different bearings; and when on these bearings we knew our approximate distance from the fort at the harbour’s mouth.
On the night of the 16th of June theMirandafrigate, commanded by Captain Lyons, supportedby rocket boats, was sent in to attack the forts. Unfortunately, the enemy got his range—owing to the illumination caused by the rockets, which lit up the whole scene. Poor Lyons was killed, and there was considerable loss besides, and the incident ended in being somewhat a failure. The intention of these night attacks was to worry the enemy, and keep the sailors and gunners down at the forts instead of their assisting in the siege batteries up at the front.
Next night, that of the 17th of June, came our turn in thePrincess Royal. My Captain begged to be allowed to go in alone, so as not to attract the fire of the forts by too great a display of firing, such as that of the previous night. Of course, this sort of affair under cover of darkness makes it a mere question of luck whether we should be sunk, or seriously mauled, or escape scot-free. The enemy could fire at random only. We were not blessed in those days with search-lights: in fact, there was nothing to give the enemy a clue to our distance, and they could not lay their guns with any certainty: whilst, we being directed to fire in broadsides only, there would naturally be no continuous firing to assist their gunners in laying the guns.
We cleared for action at 9P.M.that evening, hove in our cable, and awaited the signal to weigh. How wearisome each half hour seemed!We longed to have the business over. We waited and waited the signal; but half hour after half hour passed, and nothing happened. So we could only lie down at our guns and take a snatch of sleep—or make the attempt, at any rate. I wonder what many of us thought over during those weary half hours, and whether our minds were far away? Not a light was allowed. All was still, and in utter darkness. The only light to be seen on board was in the binnacle compass on the poop. I recollect well running up and down constantly to the poop to find out the latest news, and convey it below, because at one time we began to despair of the attack coming off that night.
My uncle was calmly walking the poop, in close conversation with the Commander, and awaiting the signal to weigh. At last, at midnight, up went the signal, by lanterns: “Weigh and proceed.” All was bustle in an instant; though beyond the links grinding in at the hawse pipe not a sound was to be heard—no boatswain’s whistle: absolutely nothing. We were soon under weigh, and off at slow speed. The lights which we placed were plainly visible as we steamed in. It was a most exciting moment as we gradually approached the enemy’s huge batteries. The men were already at their guns, and we had placed a few more from our port batteries over to the star-board side, in order to give them not only46 but also 50 or more shots from our star-board broadside.
Having got our bearings on with the lights (coloured large lanterns), we steamed on until a certain light showed red: then we knew our approximate distance, and that it was time to fire. Up to this time I had been constantly sent down with messages to the officers at their quarters, in order to make sure that no mistake could possibly be made; and the Captain arranged to give the order himself for the broadside to be fired at the exact moment.
I was on the poop by the Captain’s side. Suddenly he asked whether all was ready below—the guns being elevated to 1200 yards and loaded with shell. The answer was, “Yes, sir.” He said, “Stand by.” A few seconds of suspense followed. When the order to fire was given, off went the roar of these guns simultaneously from our whole broadside; and in a few seconds I saw the most lovely illumination of the whole front of Fort Constantine. Our shells had burst beautifully. On the face of the fort, for an instant or so, I could plainly see the embrasures (so to speak) lit up, and, indeed, the whole face of the fort.
A minute or two elapsed before any fire was returned. First came one or two shots; then gradually more; until they began pounding away to their hearts’ content, firing red-hot shot, shells,and chain shot, the latter to cut our rigging. The shells I could plainly see coming over us, some few bursting short; but the enemy must have estimated our range to be 200 yards farther out, for hundreds passed over us, cutting our rigging unmercifully. Had we been that distance farther out to sea we should indeed have got a proper mauling. It was great luck, indeed, that our hull was hit only five times. We lost only two killed and five wounded: all at one gun under the poop: just below where my Captain and I were standing.
I shall never forget an idiot of a signalman who, on hearing the crash, yelled out to me, “Look out, sir: the mast is coming down by the run.” This shot certainly made great havoc. After knocking these poor chaps over, it tore up some planks on our quarter-deck, smashed part of the mast, and made a hole in the stern of our boom boat in its passage overboard to the other side. For a quarter of an hour or more these shots and shells came very thick. We loaded for another broadside, but suddenly got into unpleasant shoal water: so we had to turn tail. I believe our orders were not to run any risks, and not to fire more than one or two broadsides if the enemy got our range: after all, our purpose was served in worrying the forts. Though the engagement was exciting, I felt glad when we got out of range. It certainly was too hot to be pleasant.
When the retreat from quarters was sounded, there was a general call for the steward; and (now two o’clock in the morning) potted lobster, tinned salmon, and sardines were eagerly devoured. Many a yarn about the details of the night passed between us. We were afterwards told that the whole Fleet had been watching the affair, which was described as lovely in the distance. Next day we buried our dead outside at sea. Some people think that being sewn up in a hammock with two shots tied to the foot of it, and being launched overboard, is the best way of being buried. I do not. I hated seeing the bodies slipped overboard out of a port from a grating during the funeral service.
For a fortnight we had cholera in the Fleet pretty badly. I think we lost eleven poor chaps in our ship alone. Many others were seized, but got over it. Our men generally fell ill about daybreak or soon after. I have seen them, seized with the horrid cramp, tumble down while decks were being washed. The best precaution was to make every one as cheerful as possible, so as to keep the devil out of the mind. The band used to play off and on all day; while games and smoking were allowedad lib.
By the next mail I wrote to my mother, describing the night attack; andsaying:—
I have no wish to go into action again, if I can keep out of it. We were the first line-of-battle ship that has been in at night—and so close! How jealous the Acres must be [alluding to theSt. Jean D’Acre, our chummy ship, commanded by Henry Keppel]. I have earned the Black Sea medal.
I have no wish to go into action again, if I can keep out of it. We were the first line-of-battle ship that has been in at night—and so close! How jealous the Acres must be [alluding to theSt. Jean D’Acre, our chummy ship, commanded by Henry Keppel]. I have earned the Black Sea medal.
The day after our night attack we were all very busy watching an unsuccessful assault of the Redan, and could plainly see with glasses a great deal of what was going on. For some long weeks we lay off Sebastopol, weighing our anchor only twice. On the first occasion we received sudden orders to get up steam, in company with other ships of the Fleet, and to start for some unknown destination. Many were the conjectures. Could it be a sudden attack on the forts of the town? Or were we off to some fresh destruction of the enemy’s positions? Suffice it to say, the Fleet was formed into one long line, and at first shaped a course directly towards the mouth of the harbour, and, on arriving within measurable distance of long shots, quickly turned along the coast in the direction of Eupatoria. All the marines were ordered to sit on the top of the boom boats and hammock nettings—in fact, to show their red coats in the most conspicuous manner;—and even the blue-jackets were dressed up in spare tunics and placed in conspicuous spots, thus affording a certain amount of merriment: the rusebeing to mislead the Russians into thinking that we were bound with troops to the Alma.
We anchored that night off Eupatoria, returning to Sebastopol next day. Whether the Russians were taken in by our manœuvre, or they thought it a capital joke, we never knew. Nothing came of the emprise.
The second time we weighed, the ships were spread out across the mouth of the harbour. We slung our long-range 68-pounders on the fore-stay, and at an elevation of 45° fired occasional shots towards the batteries. I think that we did not do any harm: we could not quite range the batteries. On that occasion one of our small steamers went in pretty close under the land, to reconnoitre; and the Russian paddle frigateVladamirwas out of the harbour like a shot, and might have caught our vessel had not one or two other steamers gone to the rescue and driven the Russian off. At night we had to row careful guard round the ships. The Russians also had guard-boats; but we seldom came across them. How different it would be now, in the days of search-lights, steam launches, and torpedo boats! No fleet would dare to anchor off a harbour’s mouth for weeks together.
There was great excitement about this time over a person who professed to be able to steal in at night in a submerged canoe, drop an anchorwhen within a certain distance of the Russian ship, fire his submarine mine under her bows, and haul himself out by his cable. I believe he was a blue-jacket of theSt. Jean D’Acre; but, somehow, the performance never came off.
At this time my uncle became very unwell, and had to be invalided. This was a matter of great regret to us all on board; for not only was he deservedly popular, but also we knew that, while under his command, our good ship would have been one of the first selected for any particular service.
He was always most kind and considerate to me; but in those days it was not a good thing for the skipper to have a near relation serving under him. That created a certain amount of suspicion, and at times made me feel that I might be thought the originator of some gossip that may have reached his ears. Having the run of his cabin was a great boon. On one occasion, having met with a nasty accident to my foot, I was laid up in a cot in his cabin for three weeks. I could never get into a pair of ready-mades afterwards.