‘Howly Moses, look there to yer left!’ cried Larry.
‘Howly Moses, look there to yer left!’ cried Larry.
‘Howly Moses, look there to yer left!’ cried Larry.
standing still, the drivers dozing on their seats, while the escort, a battalion of foot Cossacks, were sitting beside the road chatting, or strolling listlessly to and fro.
The lads descended to the ground and looked at one another with astonished faces.
‘Larry, we’ve made a discovery,’ said Jack. ‘We must get back and bring our fellows down; those wagons must be captured.’
The trumpeters turned and ran back at top speed, till they suddenly emerged from between the trees and almost ran into two mounted Hussar officers.
‘Bedad, it’s the colonel,’ said Larry.
‘You young scoundrels, what’s the meaning of this?’ cried Larry’s colonel, who was something of a martinet.
Larry gave a picturesque account of what had happened, when the Hussar colonel first ripped out a very strong expression, then, as though seized with a sudden idea, said to his fellow-officer, ‘Major, this confounded losing our way may turn out to our advantage after all. The artillery can’t be far off; if we could find them we’d ride down, attack the column, and capture the convoy. Ride like fury to Lord Lucan and tell him what’s happened.’
The major dashed off.
‘I suppose there is no mistake about this, O’Callaghan?’ said the colonel sternly.
‘On me honour, colonel, I saw ’em wid me very own eyes.’
‘If you’ve made a mistake, you scoundrel, I’ll try you by court-martial,’ said the colonel. ‘You’d better both mount and scour round to see if you can find the artillery. They must have kept to the left-hand road when we took the right, and they can’t be far off. If you find them tell the officer in command to follow us as quickly as he can. Failing that, rejoin your regiments, or any of the other parties who are searching the forest for the road we ought to have followed.’
Jack and Larry at once mounted and spurred off. Jack, who had a very good idea of localities, struck away to the left. They rode sharply for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, then they heard a rumble of wheels.
‘That sounds like guns,’ cried Larry.
‘We’ll soon see,’ said Jack, and he slid from Dainty and laid his ear against the ground.
‘You’re right, Larry,’ he said; ‘it is guns. Away we go.’
They went at a trot, the sound, however, having stopped. Presently they saw by the increasing light in front of them that they were nearing a road. They heard voices, spurred forward, and in a few seconds were in the lane.
‘It’s the guns,’ said Jack; ‘the officer in command will be near the head of the column.’
He turned into the narrow lane, when he saw a group of officers, not in the blue-and-gold of the artillery, but in scarlet and cocked hats.
‘The staff, by all that’s howly!’ murmured Larry.
‘Lord Raglan himself,’ said Jack in hardly audible tones, fixing his eyes on a white-haired, one-armed man dressed in a blue frock, who with no very pleased expression on his face rode in the centre of a group of officers.
The trumpeters sat rigidly in their saddles, anddropped their right hands behind their thighs in salute.
‘Where do you come from and where are your regiments?’ asked the commander-in-chief sternly, and by these words the youths knew that the great man was exceedingly displeased.
LARRY O’CALLAGHAN ventured to reply, ‘Plase, yer honour—I mane me lordship—we’re lookin’ for the artillery.’
‘By whose orders?’
‘The colonel’s, yer honour.’
‘Explain this. Where is your regiment?’
‘Comin’ on, me lord. There’s a convoy of Rooshians ahead, an’ we’re goin’ to cut ’em to pieces, an’——
‘I know all about the convoy. Ride off to your regiments as hard as you can and guide them here. I will hear your explanations later.—Captain Wilson, gallop back and fetch up my escort of Hussars.’
Without waiting for another word, the trumpeters turned their horses’ heads and re-entered the forest.
‘His lordship’s in a rage,’ said Jack, as he and Larry went back as hard as they could towards the cavalry column.
‘An’ our officers’ll get a rap over the knuckles for this, I’m thinkin’,’ said Larry.
‘We’ll hurry ’em up,’ said Jack, and seizing his bugle he sounded his regimental call several times.
Larry sounded as well, and soon an answering call showed their comrades were near. Presently Lord Cardigan and a group of officers, Lancers and Hussars, came in sight.
‘This way, colonel,’ said Larry; ‘Lord Raglan’s in a tearin’ rage,’ and, turning his horse, he led the way.
They entered the lane, and in single file (for the way was not wide enough to admit of more) they galloped on.
They came up with Lord Raglan. ‘You’re late, my lord,’ he said coldly to Lord Cardigan. ‘Come on;’ and he and his staff galloped on with the group.
They soon came to the end of the lane, and then formed themselves on the highroad, down which they went. There, a little distance along, they saw the amazed Russians who were escorting the convoy.
The little party of officers and the two trumpeters, drawing their swords, galloped forward. A score of Cossack infantrymen formed together and fired a volley; but the bullets flew high, and in another moment the cavalry were among them, cutting them down. The drivers whipped up their horses and tried to escape, but Lord Raglan’s escort and straggling Lancers and Hussars came galloping down the road.
The leading guns of Captain Maude’s battery had also emerged from the lane, unlimbered, and opened fire on the head of the column, which had the effect of stopping the flight. The infantrymen flung down their arms and surrendered, the mounted men fled, and in five minutes the convoy was in the hands of the English. The battalion of Rifles came up, and a few volleys accelerated the retreat of the Russians, who seemed only too glad to get off with their lives without troubling about their property.
The spoil of the captured wagons was given over to the soldiers, and a wild scene of plunder took place. The carts were unloaded and the contents tumbled out on to the road. Boxes were broken open, cases smashed, portmanteaus slashed up, and an immensequantity of clothing belonging to the officers of the Saxe-Weimar Hussars was found. Amongst the spoil were shirts, boots, dressing-cases, valuables, an enormous number of fine blue cloth silver-laced jackets and some fur-lined coats; also many cases of preserved meats and fruits, champagne, spirits; a military chest containing some thousands of roubles; and an immense quantity of ammunition.
Lancers, Hussars, Dragoons, artillerymen, Rifles, all were busy. Some secured valuable watches, others articles of attire, some were eating and drinking, and altogether it was a wonderful sight; the men as they came out of the woods on to the road eagerly rushing up for their share of the spoil.
Jack at first stood aloof; but an artilleryman handing him a bottle of champagne, he knocked off the neck with his sword, and calling to Larry, who was enjoying himself immensely, said, ‘Here, Larry, I’ll pay you that drink I lost; we shall never get tipple like this in the canteen.’
‘Shure, Jack, you’re the bhoy for me,’ cried Larry, staggering up under a load of fine linen shirts.
Just then Sergeant Linham and Will came by, and joined Jack and Larry.
The champagne finished, the sergeant went to work, and did not desist till he had secured a good bundle of spoil, amongst which was a magnificent gold watch.
Jack gave a man of the Rifles half-a-sovereign for a splendid fur-lined coat and pair of high boots, and later on he picked up a Hussar officer’s jacket which had been thrown down in the road. The latter he gave to Larry for a couple of shirts which he sadlyneeded, and then he sat down to watch the fun. In an hour’s time nothing was left of the booty except broken boxes and empty hampers.
While they were still halting a staff-officer came riding along, and seeing a number of the 8th Hussars, asked a man if he knew which was the trumpeter who had ridden up to Lord Raglan in the lane. Larry was pointed out to him, when he said, ‘There was a trumpeter of the 17th with you. I want him too.’
‘Come on, Jack,’ said Larry dolefully; ‘we’re in for it. I thought this bit of luck was too good to last.’
The two trumpeters, feeling horribly nervous and guilty, marched behind the staff-officer up towards Mackenzie’s Farm, where Lord Raglan was. They found the old Peninsular veteran smiling graciously as he talked to a number of officers, among whom were Larry’s colonel and Lord Cardigan.
Jack and Larry saluted, when Lord Raglan said to the latter in his kind tones, ‘Colonel Powell tells me it was you who first discovered the Russian convoy.’
‘Shure, yer lordship, it was as much Jack Blair here, of the 17th, as me.’
‘Tell us the circumstances,’ said Lord Raglan; and Larry, in a rich brogue and in a fashion which made several officers hide their mouths behind their hands, gave an account of their proceedings.
Lord Raglan did not smile; but when Larry had finished he said, ‘How long have you been in the service, O’Callaghan?’
‘Four years, me lord, and me father was trumpet-major of the 8th before me, and his father sarved in the Peninsula under the Iron Dook.’
At mention of the great Duke Lord Raglan’s face lighted up.
‘O’Callaghan,’ he said, ‘you have rendered an important service. By chance I had myself discovered the convoy; but through the cavalry having gone astray I might not have been able to capture it had they not, thanks to you, been coming this way towards the guns. Colonel Powell gives you an excellent character, and at my suggestion he has promoted you to the rank of sergeant. You will be appointed his orderly trumpeter.’ Then, turning to Jack, he said, ‘Of you, Blair, I have heard before. You are the same who gallantly rescued a comrade in the affair on the Bulganak, are you not?’
‘I did my best for him, my lord.’
‘You succeeded, for I have heard from your regimental doctor that he is doing well. I shall not forget you. Now you may both go.’
The delighted trumpeters rejoined their comrades, and their news was received with great satisfaction, for both were deservedly popular in their regiments.
‘A sargint,’ cried Larry to Jack, ‘an’ orderly to the colonel! Faix, the ould dad’ll burst hisself wid joy.’
The march was soon continued, the men being in most excellent spirits. Later on in the day they passed Sebastopol, which they saw on their right. None who then gazed on the fortifications ever dreamed of the many, many weary months that would elapse, of the untold sufferings they would have to endure, of the titanic struggle that would take place on the very plain they were then crossing, or of the thousands of lives that would be lost ere the British flag waved over that grim fortress. Thetroops made a tremendous march; never halting till, after sunset, they reached the little hamlet of Tractir on the Tchernaya, where they halted for the night.
The next morning the march was resumed, and, crossing the Tchernaya, the column, led by Lord Raglan, descended into the plain. They marched on, with only one trifling hindrance from an old castle which stood on the heights, mounting a few old guns. The place was summoned, and at once surrendered, when the troops took possession of it, and then marched at once upon Balaclava.
The thunder from guns in the little harbour announced the fact that the fleet had arrived, and the water was soon covered with British boats as the town was filled with British soldiers. The cavalry were encamped outside the town, the infantry being accommodated in and around the place.
All that day and the next stragglers kept coming in, till General Cathcart arriving safely with the rear-guard completed the success of the famous ‘flank march.’
BALACLAVA itself Jack found but a small, uninteresting place; but the harbour was remarkable, insomuch that looking down upon it from the precipitous hills by which it was surrounded, it looked like a small mountain-lake, the entrance being completely masked by a projecting headland. A vessel might sail past the entrance a hundred times without suspecting the existence of a harbour. Once inside, however, the biggest vessels could ride securely at anchor within a stone’s-throw of the shore, which rose abruptly from the water’s edge, leaving only a narrow ledge on which the town was built.
The little valley leading from the plain to the head of the harbour was full of gardens, vineyards, and orchards. The streets of the town itself were narrow and crooked; the houses built of loose stones, with wooden verandas and balconies. There were, however, one or two public buildings which were soon turned to account as hospitals and so on.
The town of Sebastopol seemed to lie at the feet of the Allies, and many wondered why they did not walk in and drive out the Russian garrison; but these forgot that the town was dominated by the forts and by the ships in the harbour, and that although the Allies might get in easily enough they would be unable to remain there.
The rumours of carrying the place by assault soon died away, and it became evident that a siege wasintended, though the place could not be completely invested. The task of landing siege-trains and stores was begun, and these had to be hauled up six or seven miles from Balaclava to the front. There was an almost utter absence of wagons or horses, and every old ammunition-cart and beast capable of work was pressed into the service.
From the fleet large numbers of sailors were landed, and these, with the reckless jollity and hearty go that distinguish sailors, dragged their great guns up into the batteries that were being formed. Often the ship’s fiddler would sit astride the gun as his messmates hauled on to the ropes, and to some chanty, with many strange phrases and nautical expressions, dragged their guns along at a great pace. The infantry regiments were assigned to their different positions, and early in October the first trenches were opened.
The Russians began to regain something of their confidence, and made several sorties at night, in some of which they achieved a measure of success.
Jack was kept busy with his regiment, amongst which, as amongst the rest of the army, cholera was still raging and claiming many victims.
Enormous exertions were made by the French and British, and by the middle of October they had between them a hundred and twenty-six pieces of artillery in position.
On the morning of the 17th, while Jack and his comrades were ‘standing to their horses’ as usual an hour before daybreak, with an absolutely deafening roar the French and English batteries opened fire. The first great bombardment had begun. Every now and then a sixty-eight pound shot came plump downinto the ground just behind the cavalry, who were presently dismissed to their lines.
After breakfast Jack was sent with a letter to the officer commanding Lord Raglan’s escort. The commander-in-chief had left Balaclava and taken up his quarters in a snug farmhouse surrounded by vineyards and outbuildings, and situated about four miles from the town. Jack, having delivered his letter, was told to wait, which he was very willing to do, for he got a splendid view of the bombardment. He could see the Lancaster and the mortar batteries in the right and left attacks, and the French away on the left. The Russian gunners were plainly visible in their batteries, and they were maintaining a tremendous fire; while, from the harbour, shot and shell from the six hundred pieces of cannon on the French and English fleets poured in their fire upon Sebastopol.
The sight was grand—magnificent; the noise simply appalling. It seemed as if Sebastopol must crumble into dust beneath the fury of shot hurled into it; but although nine batteries were destroyed the enemy still kept up a powerful resistance.
Presently the fire, as though by mutual consent, slackened on both sides; then it broke out again with renewed fury. Suddenly a tremendous explosion took place in one of the French batteries. Guns, carriages, parts of the embrasures, and upwards of a hundred men were blown to fragments. A magazine had been exploded. The Russians yelled with joy, and could be seen jumping on to their parapets, waving rammers in the air. The fire of the English batteries, though, soon gave them something else to think about; but the fire of the French batteriesslackened and soon their guns were almost silent. The French men-of-war, however, fired more furiously than ever, and so it went on till towards midday a second magazine was exploded in the French lines.
Soon afterwards a tremendous explosion took place in the centre of Sebastopol, doing immense damage, and later on the Redan was almost shattered by a similar explosion, and so the awful duel went on till night, when both sides ceased from sheer weariness.
The Allies had a loss together of about three hundred men, but they did infinitely greater damage to the Russians, amongst others killing their gallant defender, Korniloff. After that, day by day, an almost incessant duel was kept up, the big guns roaring and thundering from morning till night. Men were killed in the batteries and in the trenches daily, the latter being most difficult to dig in the hard, stony ground. The earth for gabions and sandbags had to be carried from a distance in baskets to the place required, an arduous and dangerous work.
But more deadly by far than the shot and shell of the enemy were the ravages of the cholera, and in the first three weeks before Sebastopol the army lost more men and officers than had fallen at the Alma—a terrible toll.[4]Balaclava was crowded withinvalids; hundreds were sent away daily to Scutari; yet more and more came, till they had to be left dying in the streets for want of accommodation.
Among the victims was St Arnaud, the French commander-in-chief, who was succeeded by General Canrobert, a much abler man.
The ‘Death or Glory Boys’ suffered with the others, and the regiment was only a shadow of its former self. Captain Norreys being on the staff, and Major Willett ill at Balaclava, Captain Wintle was in command.
‘What’s the use,’ growled Linham one morning when, after the usual hour of standing under arms, the cavalry had been dismissed for breakfast—‘what’s the use of bringing cavalry to a place like this I want to know?’
‘Just to give you something to grumble at, Jimmy,’ said Sergeant Barrymore.
‘Well, I’ve got cause enough here,’ said Linham. ‘Seven months’ campaigning, and never anything for us to do that a militiaman on a donkey couldn’t have done as well. Sent to the most unhealthyplaces they could find, and, to wind up with, a prospect of winter under canvas in a hole like this with nothing to do but escort sick and wounded or haul stores up from Balaclava. What’s the use of cavalry here, that’s what I want to know.’
‘Never mind, sergeant, I’ll get you a cup of coffee made directly,’ said Jack as he unsaddled Dainty.
‘And I’ll grub about for a bit of wood,’ said Will; ‘that commodity is getting uncommonly scarce.’
Jack took a pail and went off to the river for the water. Several others were bent on the same errand, and all had filled their buckets and were on their way back to the camp when suddenly there was a shrill, horrible screaming overhead, and something fell with a crash just in front of them.
‘Shell! Down all of you!’ cried a man of the 11th Hussars; and Jack threw himself flat on his face.
In an instant there was a blinding flash, a terrific roar, and the earth seemed almost to quake. For a few seconds no one moved; then, half-dazed, they raised up their heads and slowly got on their feet. Jack found he was drenched with water from his pail and covered with earth, otherwise he was not hurt, nor were any of the others; but his pail had disappeared, having been blown clean away. In front of them was a hole big enough to have buried a horse in.
‘That was a close call,’ said the man of the 11th Hussars.
‘A bit too close,’ said Jack; ‘but I must have some water. Will any one lend me enough from his pail to fill our pot?’
‘Come back with me and help to fill mine again,chum,’ said the Hussar, ‘and I’ll give you some out of it.’
Jack’s pot was thus filled, and presently he sat down beside the fire Will had managed to make, and thought for a moment over his escape.
‘What’s up, Jack? You look as solemn as if you were going to your own funeral,’ said Will, who was trying to roast some green coffee-berries on a mess-tin.
‘I did jolly nearly go just now,’ said Jack; and he related what had happened.
‘Whew!’ whistled Will, ‘that’s too near to be pleasant. I thought I heard a shell pass pretty close. But give me a hand with the grinding, will you?’
The scorched berries were put into a piece of an old exploded five-inch shell, and then with a couple of nine-pounder balls the trumpeters crushed them up, finally emptying them into the pot when the water boiled. They at last succeeded in making a greasy sort of browny-coloured liquid, having fragments of berries floating about on the top of it, and this, with some hard biscuit, was to form their breakfast.
They had hardly, however, tasted this beverage, which, poor stuff that it was, was more than welcome, whenbang! bang!rang out a couple of carbines.
All jumped to their feet, and Pearson, looking down the valley, said, ‘There’s something up, the vedettes are retiring and circling left, and here comes an orderly.’
A Dragoon was seen coming towards the light cavalry camp at full gallop; then the trumpets in the heavy cavalry camp were heard sounding boot-and-saddle, and the Scots Greys with a troop of horse artillery were seen galloping to the front.
The guns in the Turkish redoubts opened fire and the trumpets of the light cavalry sounded boot-and-saddle.
Jack and Will took up the call, and in a few minutes Lancers and Hussars were trotting down the valley, leaving their breakfast behind them.
When they arrived at the Turkish redoubts it was seen that a large body of Russian infantry had debouched from the ravine and taken up a position some two thousand yards away on the left front. Cossacks appeared on the ridges, and it seemed as if an advance were intended. A couple of hours passed however, and nothing further happened, then the English cavalry returned, all but one regiment which remained watching the enemy, being relieved in a couple of hours by another one.
Sergeant Linham cursed the Russians most heartily. ‘It’s just one of their dirty tricks,’ he said, ‘to keep us hanging about in the saddle for two or three hours, cold and starving, then to draw off, doing nothing.’
At night the watch-fires of the Russians could be plainly seen, and the cavalry were kept under arms; but in the morning the enemy had entirely disappeared, a fact about which there were a good many things Sergeant Linham ‘wanted to know.’
DURING the next few days the enemy kept pretty quiet, and on the night of the 24th Jack’s troop mounted picket for vedette duty at No. 1 Turkish Redoubt. In the evening rain set in, and it poured down for hours. There was an old wagon-shed at the back of the redoubt which was used as a picket-house by the men on guard, and while there they were fairly comfortable.
Sergeant Barrymore, Jack, Brandon, Pearson, and the others of the relief, wrapped in their cloaks, were huddling round the fire and blessing their luck in being out on such a nasty night, when a jingle of spurs was heard and a rough voice cried, ‘Ha, hum! not much trouble to surprise this picket, I’m thinking;’ and Sergeant Linham stepped into the circle of firelight.
‘Hallo, Jim!’ said Barrymore, ‘what brings you here?’
‘First, my legs; second, I’m not feeling sleepy; third, I got a bottle of rum down in Balaclava to-day from a friend of mine in the commissariat; so I thought a tot round would be welcome to you.’
‘Forward, true friend and comrade,’ said Brandon, ‘for has it not been written: “Wine maketh glad the heart of man”?’
‘You’ve got a quotation for everything, Frank?’ said Pearson; ‘you’re like an encyclopædia with the covers off.’
‘Compliments fly when friends meet’ replied Brandon.
‘Blair, throw on another handful of roots and put the pot on,’ said Barrymore to Jack.—‘And, Jimmy, sit down by me and uncork your bottle.’
Soon each man had a steaming pannikin of rum in his hand.
Brandon sipped his, saying:
‘I am no orator, as Brutus is,But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man;
‘I am no orator, as Brutus is,But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man;
‘I am no orator, as Brutus is,But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man;
so in a few words I give you the health of Sergeant Linham who, “For love of friends that distant be,” has heart enough to walk a mile on such a vile night as this to bring his friends a cheering cup.’
‘Frank, why on earth did you enlist?’ asked Pearson. ‘With your education and talents I should have thought you would have found life easier as an actor, for which life you seem entirely fitted, than as a private of Lancers, risking his life every minute of the day in the Crimea for a shilling a day.’
‘A fancy, Pearson—a fancy—the love of glittering mail and martial glory.’
Whenever Brandon was asked a question he did not care about answering he always turned it aside in some jesting manner, or gave the conversation another turn. Looking at the buttons on the sleeve of his tunic, he said, ‘Who on earth gave the regiment this gruesome badge of grinning skull and becrossed shin-bones?’
‘That I can tell you,’ replied Barrymore. ‘The regiment was raised by one John Hale, colonel of the 47th Foot. He was the officer who brought homethe news of Wolfe’s victory at Quebec and of his death. To commemorate the latter, the 17th were raised, and in his memory the skull and cross-bones was made the badge of the regiment. It was at first worn on the left breast of the scarlet tunic, and though the uniform has been several times changed the badge has always remained the same.’
Reference to the grim regimental badge seemed to have a depressing effect on Brandon, who lapsed into silence.
Presently Linham went off back to his tent, and one or two of the men round the fire dozed off.
Brandon—who half-sat, half-lay on the ground beside Jack—fell into a fitful slumber, but presently started in his sleep and muttered, ‘Skull and cross-bones—good badge—nothing to live for—I will go’—— He turned uneasily; then added, ‘All skeletons’—— when the voice of Barrymore, bidding the next relief mount, roused him up.
The men departed, and the relieved men came in reporting all quiet. The night passed, the rain leaving off and the moon coming out. Presently the cold, gray dawn broke, and Jack was just off to try and find some more wood for the fire when, looking up, he chanced to glance across to the height on his right, known as Canrobert’s Hill. Instantly he noticed that instead of one there were two flags flying.
‘Hallo, sergeant, I wonder what that means?’ he asked of Barrymore.
‘Danger, Jack; look at the vedettes.’ And Jack, looking, saw that they were ‘circling right and left at a trot,’ thus signalling the advance of both cavalry and infantry, and at a quick pace.
‘Sound the alarm,’ said Barry more to Jack; and the men sprang to their horses.
‘Look over towards the second redoubt!’ cried Pearson; ‘there’s some of the staff, I can see the cocked hats.’
‘If there’s going to be a scrimmage we must be in it,’ said Barry more joyfully; ‘we’ve heard enough about being do-nothings. If we get a chance to-day we’ll show ’em.’
‘I hope to goodness we do!’ cried half-a-dozen grimly eager voices behind him.
Just then the boom of a twelve-pounder gun in the redoubt before them rang out. It was the warning note, announcing, though no one knew it then, that the day of the cavalry had arrived. It was the morn of Balaclava!
THE booming of that first gun from Redoubt No. 1 was the opening note heralding in a day that will live long in the history of Britain. The first report was followed quickly by others, both from the first and other redoubts, and the vedettes came in at a smart trot.
An enormous force of Russians, horse, foot, and artillery, was advancing upon Balaclava, they said. After events showed that twenty-five battalions, thirty-four squadrons, and seventy-eight guns, nearly twenty-five thousand men in all, was the actual number.
The guns from the Turkish redoubts were quickly replied to by a tremendous fire from several Russian batteries. The picket was ordered to fall back towards the camp.
The whole of the Light Brigade had stood to their horses an hour before daybreak as usual, and had just received the command, ‘File to your lines!’ when the guns of No. 1 Redoubt opened fire. They immediately received orders to mount and advance, meeting Jack’s troop on their way. The whole were then halted with a troop of horse artillery, just to the right of No. 3 Redoubt, under the southern slopes of the Causeway Heights. Here they got a good view of what was going on.
On their right front dense masses of Russians, having silenced with their artillery the guns in No. 1Redoubt, were advancing to the attack, while other columns were preparing to storm Canrobert’s Hill. On their right flank was Balaclava, the slight defence in front of it being held by the Royal Marines, a hill to the left of Kadikoi being crested by Sir Colin Campbell with the 93rd Highlanders. The heavy cavalry was on the right of the Light Brigade. The Fedioukine Hills on the left front, across the Woronzoff Road, were crowded with Russian infantry and cavalry, while Lord Raglan with his staff had taken up a position to the left rear on the Sapoune Ridge.
Jack had hardly time to take in all these details when a sort of guttural yell in front, accompanied by crashing volleys of musketry, announced the fact that the Russian infantry were attacking the redoubt.
Captain Maude’s troop of horse artillery opened fire on the Russians and maintained it for some time. Presently the Lancers saw on their flank a stretcher being carried by. On it, horribly wounded, lay the gallant Captain Maude. Soon the ammunition of the horse battery was exhausted, and it had to retire till the ammunition wagons should arrive.
By that time the Russians were swarming across the ditch and over the feeble parapet of No. 1 Redoubt. The Russians outnumbered the Turks by ten to one, yet the latter maintained an obstinate bayonet-fight until sheer weight of numbers crushed the Turks and they fled, or at least about a third of them did. Two-thirds they left dead—for the Russians could be depended upon to slay all the wounded—in the fort behind them.
‘By George, the Bono Johnnies are running!’ exclaimed Pearson; ‘they’ve bolted.’
‘Ha, hum! they won’t bolt far,’ said Sergeant Linham grimly; and as he spoke the Russian artillery opened on them; then a cloud of Cossacks pursued them and speared many a hapless Moslem.
Jack bit his lip. ‘It’s galling to sit here and see one’s allies butchered before one’s face,’ he said. ‘Why don’t they let us go out and cover the retreat of these poor wretches?’
‘We should be simply eaten up,’ replied Linham; ‘look at the enormous masses of cavalry advancing.’
‘Besides, why should we bother about these cowardly Turks?’ said Pearson. ‘Why don’t they stick to their guns?’
‘They’ve stuck pretty well to ’em, I think,’ replied Linham. ‘They fought till it was quite clear we either could not or would not support them, and to have stopped longer would have been sheer madness.’
An enormous body of cavalry advanced down the valley, covering the advance of seven battalions and several batteries. These latter soon opened fire on the other forts, the guns from the captured No. 1 Redoubt being directed against No. 2.
The Turks, realising that the English cavalry was unable to support them, did not wait for the attack which the Russian infantry was seen to be preparing to make upon them, and were soon scuttling out of the forts and retreating towards Balaclava. The Light Brigade was advanced to cover their retreat.
‘They don’t seem inclined to make much of a fight of it,’ said Jack to Pearson.
‘No, the fate of their comrades in No. 1 Fort seems to have given ’em the funks. They’ve actually deserted the guns, and left their colours too.’
‘They seem more anxious about their personalbelongings than anything else,’ said Jack; ‘just look at the beggars, surely those are pots and pans some of them are carrying.’
‘So it is,’ laughed Brandon; ‘and look at that white-bearded old sinner, he’s actually carrying a bed on his back.’
This was the case, and the Turks began to pour from the forts towards the English cavalry, many crying loudly, ‘Ship, ship!’
‘I’ll give yez ship, ye dhirty blackguards,’ cried an Irish trooper of the 8th Hussars, belabouring with the flat of his sword a man who ran past him crying loudly, his frying-pan and pot banging and jangling behind him.
Most of the Englishmen, however, only laughed at the flying Turks.
One of the last to leave the redoubts was an English artilleryman who had been detailed to show the Turks how to use the guns. He had a narrow escape of his life from the enemy’s cavalry, and as he ran towards a few men of Jack’s troop who had been sent out to cover his retreat he panted, ‘The Bono Johnnies left me in the lurch. Anyhow, the guns of No. 4 Fort won’t be turned against you, for I spiked ’em before I left.’
Had the Turks spiked the other guns before they bolted it would have saved much unnecessary loss of life and have robbed the Russians of much of their vaunted victory when, next day, they paraded the captured guns in Sebastopol.
The flight of the Turks was ultimately arrested, and they were persuaded to form up in a wobbly line on the left of the 93rd Highlanders, who under old Sir Colin lined the heights outside Balaclava.
Round shot from the forts now began to fall in amongst the Light Brigade, and several horses were hit.
‘This is the part of fighting I don’t like,’ said Jack; ‘this sitting still and being fired at. Why on earth don’t they let us do something?’
‘Ha, hum! don’t be impatient,’ growled Sergeant Linham, who it was noted looked remarkably smart that morning; ‘you’ll have work to do presently.’
Bullets began to whistle about their ears from the dense battalions in front, and presently the order was given to retire farther down the valley. The battle now appeared to lull; it almost seemed as if the Russians, having captured the forts, did not know what to do next. The order was given for the Light Brigade to dismount, and many men lit their pipes.
‘If the Russians had any go about them,’ said Pearson, ‘with the enormous numbers they’ve got they might advance and sweep us all into the sea before any help could arrive from our fellows before Sebastopol.’
‘It’s a good thing for us they haven’t any go, then,’ said Jack. ‘Anyway, I wish I had a bit of biscuit, for I’m jolly hungry.’
‘I’m simply ravenous,’ said Linham, ‘and so are all the regiment; not one of us has had bit or drop this morning.’
Time passed, and the cavalry remained inactive, while enormous masses of Russians crept rather than marched up the valley. Batteries could be seen taking up their position on the Fedioukine Heights, while between three and four thousand cavalry, Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons, came steadily forward. Then several batteries were seen to be advancing soas to open fire on Sir Colin Campbell and his Highlanders.
‘Good heavens!’ muttered Captain Wintle, who was just by Jack, ‘if they succeed in defeating the Scotsmen—and how can they help it with such numbers—nothing can save Balaclava, and our base and all our stores are gone.’
He trotted up to Lord Paget, who in the absence of Lord Cardigan, still aboard his yacht, was in command. He and Captain Wintle spoke for a few seconds; then Captain Wintle trotted back, crying out to Jack, ‘Follow me, corporal.’
In an instant Jack was in the saddle and trotting after his officer. Increasing their pace to a gallop, they went by the inner line of defence held by the Marines, and were going on towards the town when they met about forty Guardsmen under a young officer marching out.
‘Hallo, Verschoyle,’ cried Captain Wintle, ‘I was just coming in to beat up every man who can fire a musket. The Russians evidently mean to attack the town, and there are only Turks and the Highlanders to hold it till reinforcements come down from the plain.’
‘We’ve seen that, Wintle, and I and my men are off to join the 93rd. Colonel Davenant is just behind with a hundred invalids. Come with us and see the fun!’
Captain Wintle rode beside the gallant young Guardsman, and they soon reached Sir Colin, who with a grim smile told Verschoyle to take position on the left of the 93rd. The hundred invalids, men of all regiments, a pale and sickly crowd, who were waiting at Balaclava to embark, soon after arriving took up their position on the left of the Guards.
Jack had kept close to Captain Wintle, and reaching the top of the ridge he saw the great mass of Russian cavalry still advancing. Presently some squadrons detached themselves and shaped their way towards the Highlanders. These, on account of some casualties they had already suffered from the enemy’s artillery, had retired behind the crest of the hill and lay down.
No sooner was the cavalry seen advancing than Sir Colin gave a brisk order, and the Highlanders sprang up and lined the crest. The advancing cavalry seemed hardly to have expected to see infantry; but they came steadily on, when, as though by common consent, the two battalions of Turks turned and fled.
This was a serious defection, and it at once became evident to that ‘thin red line’ crowning the hillock in front of Kadikoi that on them, and on them alone, rested the fate of Balaclava.
Sir Colin Campbell saw and understood the situation in a moment, and the stern old warrior rode down the lines and said, ‘Men, the safety of Balaclava rests on you. There is no retreat from here. You must die where you stand!’
The Highlanders’ faces lit up; they set their lips, their eyes gleamed, and from between their clenched teeth came the words in a sort of ominous growl,’Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we’ll do that.’
The Russian cavalry resumed their advance, and some of the Highlanders in their wild impetuosity would have rushed down upon their foe; but the angry voice of the chief rang out, ‘93rd—93rd, hang all that impetuosity!’
Then the Russian Hussars, gay troops in sky-blue,with yellow and silver lace, came within range, and the Highlanders and others, standing only in double rank, delivered a withering volley which emptied many a saddle. The enemy staggered, but still came on, when a second volley crashed into them. Then the horsemen halted and wheeled as though to take the gallant red-coats in flank; but one company of the Highlanders brought up their left shoulders, and again delivered a volley, on which the gay Hussars broke and retired downhill in confusion, followed by the fire of the English artillery and the cheers from the ‘Thin Red Line.’
Balaclava was saved!
NO sooner had the Russians been repulsed than Captain Wintle turned to rejoin his regiment, Jack following.
They had reached the site of the light cavalry camp, some of the tents being already taken down, while others remained standing, when Captain Wintle, actuated by a sudden impulse, said, ‘Dismount, corporal, and run to my tent—that one yonder. Inside is a bottle of brandy. I’ll fill my canteen with it.’
Jack went inside the tent indicated, found the bottle, poured some into his officer’s water-bottle, and, as he was bidden, poured the rest into his own. He then mounted again and both were making their way to where the Light Brigade still stood dismounted, when just behind them, picking their way among the remains of the camp, they saw the heavy Dragoons advancing.
Gray-headed old General Scarlett, followed by his aide-de-camp Lieutenant Elliot, led the Inniskillings, who were advancing by ‘threes.’
‘Hallo, Wintle,’ cried out General Scarlett,’where did you spring from?’
‘I’ve just returned from Kadikoi, General,’ replied Captain Wintle, saluting.
‘I’m just off there to support the Highlanders.’
‘They don’t want any support, General;’ and in a few words Captain Wintle related their gallant action.
‘Well done!’ exclaimed the General.
Lieutenant Elliot had been riding beside the General as he talked, and Jack was just behind. They were marching parallel with the Causeway Heights and about eight hundred yards from the summit, when Jack happened to glance up, and in a moment noticed the top fringed with lance-points.
He immediately called out the fact, and Lieutenant Elliot, who had seen much service, said, ‘The trumpeter’s right, and, moreover, those troops are fronting towards the south valley and will take us in flank as we pass them.’
General Scarlett, who had seen no war-service, had the greatest confidence in his aide-de-camp who had, and he said instantly, ‘Elliot, ought we not to charge them?’
To which the gallant aide-de-camp replied, Certainly, General.’
‘Left wheel into line,’ cried the old General, and the Inniskillings immediately obeyed the order.
Behind the squadron of Inniskillings were two of the Scots Greys, and these formed up on the left of the column. The 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards and the Royals were following, making, with the other squadron of the Inniskillings, eight squadrons in all; but Scarlett had with him at the moment but three, the gallant ‘Three Hundred.’
Hardly had the General announced his determination of charging the enemy than they came over the ridge and began to descend the slope, an enormous mass, nearly forty squadrons of Lancers, Hussars, Dragoons, and Cossacks, all, with the exception of one Hussar corps in pale-blue, clad in dark-gray overcoats, which seemed to be the distinguishing badge of Russian troops.
Seeing the handful of red-coated Dragoons below them, they started forward at a smart canter. Greys and Inniskillings, however, were going on calmly with dressing their line, the officers facing their men and seeing that the line was dressed with nicety. Captain Wintle had remained near General Scarlett, and Jack remained with his officer.
The advancing Russians—seeing the calmness with which the British cavalry prepared for the attack, apparently ignoring the fact that the enemy was in sight—as though fearing an ambush, slackened their pace to a trot, then to a walk, then halted altogether.
‘Will you lead the charge, or will you direct, sir?’ asked Lieutenant Elliot of his chief, saluting with his sword.
‘I shall lead, by all means,’ said the gallant old General. ‘Lord Lucan is on the ground and in supreme command; as its brigadier I will lead my brigade.’
The Inniskillings were eager to be off, and several men seemed inclined to start; but the General waved them back, saying, ‘Back, men; the Greys are not ready.’
When the line was dressed to his satisfaction, the General, ignoring the intermediate steps of trot, canter, and gallop, said simply to his trumpeter, ‘Sound the charge;’ and as the notes rang out the squadrons started forward.
Captain Wintle rode behind the General, and Jack followed him, keeping almost in a line with General Scarlett’s trumpeter and orderly. The General himself, mounted on an immense bay horse, was fully fifty yards in front. No matter what happened, he was determined to be first among the enemy.
These, with a precision that showed they were highly trained troops, had thrown out two huge wings on either flank as though, when the Dragoons had passed, to close in on them and cut off their retreat. From the start the distance was only about four hundred yards; but at first the pace was slow, owing to the litter of the camp over which they moved.
The Russian cavalry had a depth of fully twenty files and a frontage thrice that of the handful of heavy Dragoons, every man of whom knew that it was absolutely impossible to hurl such a mass back by mere shock; all they could hope to do was to carve their way in and to ply their swords until they fell. This was all they asked.
As the Inniskillings neared the enemy they gave a wild cheer; but the Greys came more silently, though their faces were lit up with the stern joy of war. An officer sat in front of the Russian squadrons, and General Scarlett, passing him on his left, hewed his way into the serried masses behind. The General’s aide-de-camp rode straight at the Russian officer, and, parrying a cut made at him, drove his sword up to the hilt in the Russian’s body. For a moment he could not withdraw it, and clinging to the hilt he turned the wounded Russian round and literally tore him from his saddle. He then disappeared into the mass, as did the orderly and trumpeter, and Jack found himself face to face with the foe.
A trumpeter, probably obeying some order, was sounding a call, and had turned his head towards his comrades while doing so. As Dainty raced by him Jack raised his sword to cut this trumpeter from his saddle; but seeing the man was unable to protect himself he stayed his hand, and dashed at the Hussarsbehind. The two Russians who faced him forced their horses to right and left, and left Jack a space, into which he urged his horse. He made a tremendous cut at the Hussar on his right as he did so, and the man reeled in his saddle. The other man, though, made a point which Jack parried; and, his horse still going forward between the files, he found himself surrounded by enemies. For a few seconds that half-dozen intrepid cavalrymen were alone amidst thousands of Russians; then came a wild yell, a crashing shock, and the first line of Inniskillings and Greys had reached the foe.
Jack was forced farther in, being absolutely surrounded by blue jackets and gray greatcoats. Blows were rained at him; but by keeping up a rapid circling of his own blade above his head he managed to ward them off. Another crash behind told that the second rank had charged in, and the forward movement of that handful of red-coats became accelerated.
The Russians did not directly face their enemies, but always gave way to right and left, as much as they could, before them; then they closed in on the flanks and behind, and tried to cut the Englishmen from their saddles. But the heavy Dragoons were men of fine physique, larger, heavier, and better mounted than the Russians, and their blows told with terrible effect.
Fierce denunciations and epithets of disdain were hurled at the foe by Irishman and Scot as they hacked and hewed; but the Russians, with lips curled back from their clenched teeth, made only a sort of gurgling roar or a low kind of hissing noise. The turf beneath the horses’ hoofs was thick and spongy and deadened the sound of the trampling of thousands of hoofs;but the ceaseless clash of sabres, the frequent firing of pistols, the incessant jingle of cavalry accoutrements made such a volume of sound as must have been heard by the headquarter staff up on the heights above.
Jack had hewed his way half-through the dense mass, and had got in amongst some Dragoons, on whose thick gray coats a sword-blade fell quite harmless. The men wore tall red felt shakos with a brass eagle in front, and several of them closed round Jack with the intention of slaying him. One fellow made two blows in rapid succession, and while Jack was parrying these another made a thrust at his head. Fortunately, his aim was too high, and though he pierced the top of Jack’s lance-cap he missed his head. That man fell back with his sword-hand almost severed by Jack’s sword.
The other three, however, uttering their curious zizzing sound through their clenched teeth, renewed the attack, and a blow fell on Jack’s left shoulder which almost knocked him from the saddle. Fortunately for him the aim had not been true, and the flat rather than the edge of the Russian’s blade struck him. As it was he reeled, and next moment must have been struck from his saddle, to have been trampled to death by hundreds of horses; but a sergeant of the Greys cut his way to him, and with three tremendous successive strokes cut down the Russians attacking him.
The pressure thus relaxed, Jack paused a moment to take breath and look round him. It looked like a vast sea of gray coats and Russian faces. Here and there a tall bearskin or burnished helmet could be seen, and an occasional gleam of a scarlet tunic; butin that throng of Russians they appeared buried. A mighty swaying, heaving motion had become imparted to the mass, and it was no longer possible to direct one’s way.
But at that moment a tremendous cheer was heard from behind, and the 5th Dragoon Guards came crashing in. A moment later another cheer, a good, hearty English one, and the Royals rolled up one of the wheeling wings. Then the 4th Dragoon Guards in grand style charged in on the Russian right flank, and the three fresh regiments carved a gory way to the aid of their comrades of the Greys and Inniskillings.
The Russians were pierced and riven, the swaying motion set in upwards, and the enormous mass, incredible as it seemed, began to fall back before the fiery impetuosity of the British Dragoons.
Jack, mixed up with men of different regiments, cut his way out of the left flank of the Russians.
The adjutant of the Greys, a mighty man with a mighty voice, was calling upon his men, ‘Rally, the Greys! Rally, rally! Rally onme!’
Another officer, minus his bearskin, his face streaming with blood, though he seemed unaware of it, joined the adjutant, and the men began to rally on the Russian flank.
A trumpeter of the Greys was near Jack, when an officer, whose burnished helmet was cloven down to his head, laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder, crying, ‘Trumpeter, sound the rally!’
Jack and the Scots Grey sounded again and again. Men of different regiments rallied, formed, and at a word from an officer of the Royals, with a cheer charged once more upon the enemy. Taken now inflank, pressed hard from in front, smitten on all sides by the mighty scarlet-clad Dragoons, the Russians broke, the movement uphill got more pronounced, they turned their horses’ heads, and soon the thousands were galloping up the hill whence but ten minutes before they had come down in all the majesty of overwhelming numbers.
Royals, Greys, and Inniskillings would have pursued; but the officers knew that once upon the crest of the Causeway Heights they would become exposed to a galling fire of musketry and artillery.
‘Rally, rally, rally!’ shouted officers and sergeants; ‘Rally, rally!’ went the bugles, and the scarlet coats were got in hand, while a British field-battery and a battery of position opened fire on the defeated Russians and hastened their retirement.
As the Dragoons reformed a thundering roar of cheering went up from the throats of all those comrades who had beheld their gallant deed.
An aide-de-camp came down from Lord Raglan to Scarlett, bearing the hastily scribbled words, ‘Well done!’
Sir Colin Campbell galloped up, and doffing his cocked hat, turned to the Scots Greys.
‘Greys, gallant Greys,’ he said, ‘I am sixty-one years old, and if I were young again I should be proud to serve in your ranks.’
Such praise from such a man raised the enthusiasm of his countrymen, and they gave him a cheer that brought the colour to his cheeks.
Jack was cheering as loudly as any one when he felt himself tapped on the shoulder, and, turning, saw Captain Wintle, his reeking sword in his hand, regarding him sternly.
‘What the dickens are you doing here?’ he exclaimed.
‘I followed you, sir,’ said Jack naïvely.
‘Then follow me back to our brigade, or Lord Cardigan will have something to say to both you and me;’ and setting spurs to their horses the two Lancers galloped across the heights to where the Light Brigade sat, some five hundred yards away.
THE charge of the heavy Dragoons had been so glorious that the whole of the cavalry were mad with delight about it. The only feeling in the Light Brigade was one of envy that they had not been able to share in it. When Captain Wintle and Jack rejoined their regiment a loud cheer went up from those men who saw them.
Lord Cardigan had by that time come up from his yacht in Balaclava harbour, and had taken over the command. He sat in front of his brigade, savagely gnawing his moustache.
Captain Norreys, on seeing that his regiment was likely to go into action, had instantly asked for and obtained permission from Lord Raglan to take over the command. Still in his staff tunic and undress cap, he sat in front of the regiment; but as Jack and Captain Wintle rode up he spurred to Lord Cardigan’s side and spoke earnestly to him.
As Lord Cardigan was just in front of the 17th Lancers, Jack heard all that was said.
‘My lord,’ said Captain Norreys, ‘we should advance at once; we could cut off the enemy’s cavalry and convert their retreat into a rout.’
‘No, no, Norreys,’ replied Lord Cardigan angrily. ‘My orders are positive, to hold this position and on no account to leave it.’
‘But, my lord, such an opportunity creates a different situation. It’s clearly our duty to charge,and through doing so we need not fail to hold this position.’
‘I tell you no!’
‘Will you give me leave to charge with my regiment, then, my lord?’
‘Once and for all, no! Retire to your regiment, sir! I will obey my orders, though those confounded heavies have the laugh of us this day.’
Captain Norreys saluted, and biting his lips with anger and vexation retired, noticing Captain Wintle as he did so.
‘You, at least, have had a chance,’ he said. ‘We are committing a frightful blunder by remaining here, through the ignorance of our chief. His obstinate adherence to the very letter of an order he does not understand will cost us dear.’
Alas! a still more deplorable misconception of orders by his superior officer was shortly to send two-thirds of the light cavalry to their doom.
The colonel of the 8th Hussars had been speaking to Lord Cardigan; and Larry, as the colonel’s orderly trumpeter, was with him, the two passing close by Jack as they started back to their regiment. Larry reined in a moment.
‘Jack, ye’ve just all the luck in the wurrld,’ he said; ‘ye’ve been in the finest charge since Waterloo, and here are we, sitting still, eating our hearts out wid envy.’
‘Our turn may come yet, Larry,’ said Jack, shaking his warm-hearted friend’s hand; and then he took his place in the ranks, telling Pearson and the others round what he had seen of the heavy cavalry charge.
Presently Pearson said, ‘Hallo, what’s up. There’s an aide-de-camp from headquarters jawing old Lucan,’
All turned and saw an officer in Hussar uniform, the impetuous Captain Nolan, talking vehemently to Lord Lucan, waving his arm and pointing straight up the north valley to where the Russians had a battery of twelve guns posted. They talked some time; then both Lord Lucan and Captain Nolan rode over to Lord Cardigan and a further conversation occurred. They spoke loudly, and the front-rank men of the 17th could hear distinctly some of the conversation.
‘Certainly, sir; but allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the valley on our front, and batteries and Riflemen on each flank,’ they heard Lord Cardigan say.
Lord Lucan shrugged his shoulders and replied, ‘I cannot help it; Lord Raglan will have it so. We have no choice but to obey. When I asked Captain Nolan what we were to attack, he pointed up the valley with his sword, and said in an insulting manner, “There, my lord, is your enemy; there are your guns.”’
‘Enough, my lord,’ answered Lord Cardigan quietly, saluting with his sword. Then turning and facing his men he said, ‘The brigade will advance.’
Lord Lucan first ordered the 11th Hussars back, leaving the 17th Lancers and 13th Light Dragoons in the front rank, 11th Hussars and 4th Light Dragoons in the second, and the 8th Hussars in the rear rank. These dispositions were made quietly and orderly; the lines were dressed, and the squadron, troop, and serrafile leaders took up their positions.
Lord Cardigan called Lord Paget, the colonel of the 4th Light Dragoons, to him, and said, ‘My lord, I want you to give me your best support—mind, your best support.’
Lord Paget saluted his superior, saying, ‘You may rely upon me, my lord,’ and retired to his regiment.
Lord Cardigan then placed himself about five horses’ length in front of his brigade, saying to Trumpeter Brittain of the 17th, who was his orderly, ‘Sound the trot,’ and the brigade moved off.
Jack was behind Captain Wintle; on his right was Cornet Leland, and just behind him were Brandon, Pearson, and Williams. Will was with Captain Norreys in front. The men were in high spirits, though all realised the desperate venture on which they were about to be launched.
‘We’ll show ’em to-day whether cavalry are any good or not,’ said Pearson, as he gripped his lance firmly.
‘Ay, the heavies are not the only ones who can push home a charge,’ said Williams.
‘Ha, hum!’ sounded a voice from behind, ‘ye’ll be better keeping your breath, you toads. Use your arms more and your tongues less; we’ve got a long way to go;’ and Sergeant Linham blew violently down his nose.
Most of them there were going on the longest journey of all—the last, long journey from whence none return.
They had not proceeded very far when some shouting was heard from behind; a hoarse command to some one to halt it seemed. Jack turned his head and beheld a strange sight. Private Veigh, the regimental butcher, clad only in shirt and overalls, the former blood-stained, mounted on a white horse, a black clay-pipe in his mouth, a sword in his hand, was forcing his way into his proper place in theranks. He had been busy killing oxen, when, hearing the trumpets of the Light Brigade sounding the advance, he had seized a sword, jumped bareback on the first horse he could see, and joined his troop.
‘If the old 17th’s going into action I’m going with it,’ he said, and in spite of the positive orders of his officers to retire he insisted on remaining, and went on with his regiment.
They had got some little distance up the valley when Captain Nolan, who had announced his intention of charging with the brigade, and had taken up his position on the left flank, was seen spurring wildly forward, advancing diagonally across their front, waving his sword and shouting out something at the top of his voice as though he would address the brigade.
Lord Cardigan looked angrily at the aide-de-camp; and Captain Norreys, who was close to him, thinking he was trying to force the pace of the brigade, shouted out, ‘No, no, Nolan, that won’t do; we’ve got a long way to go yet.’
The Hussar shouted still more frantically and waved his sword, when a shell, the first fired at the Light Brigade, burst just above him and a fragment struck him full in the chest. His features turned livid; but he still galloped on, his sword-arm held high in the air. He gave one cry, a shrill, unearthly scream, then his horse carried him on through the interval of the 13th Light Dragoons, and he fell to the ground a corpse, the first to pay the penalty of the fatal blunder for which he was partly responsible, and which was sending four hundred of England’s most gallant sons to their death.
The first discharge was followed by others, and ina few seconds a hundred guns and thousands of rifles thundered and rattled. The Fedioukine Heights on their left and the Causeway Heights on their right were held by infantry and field-artillery in great numbers, and these opened a tremendous fire on the devoted horsemen charging down the valley. Facing them, but at a distance of a mile and a quarter, were twelve Cossack nine-pounders; and behind these, smarting under their late defeat and waiting for an opportunity to avenge themselves, could it be done with safety, were the dense columns of cavalry which the heavy Dragoons had rolled up the Causeway Heights little more than half-an-hour before.
A regiment charging an army! Six hundred light horsemen against twenty-four thousand of all arms! As they got farther up the valley the fire under which they came was terrific. Shells, round-shot, grape, rockets, tore and ploughed through the ranks, while bullets simply rained. Down the whole length of the line men and horses began to fall, and the cry ran constantly along the ranks, ‘Close up! Close up!’
The calmness of the officers seemed terrible. Amidst all the slaughter, Captains Norreys and Wintle kept a sharp eye on their squadrons, and every now and then they cried out, ‘Mind your dressing, Private Jones! Do keep back, Wilson! Steady there!’ as a round-shot with a hideous, moist plunge struck a corporal in the chest and literally cut him in two. ‘Steady there, steady! Close up! Close up!’ as a man and horse went down on the left. Gaps were constantly occurring, and the line was diminishing as the riders closed in. The riderless horses, their eyes wild with terror, their breasts flecked with foam,galloped along with the line, trying to force their way to their places in the ranks or crowding round the officers in front.
On, on, ever on they went, Jack keeping his eyes on the crimson overalls and scarlet pelisse, blazing with gold, of Lord Cardigan, who, with his admirable seat in the saddle and his sword carried at the slope, without turning to right or left, led that line of horsemen straight for the mouths of the guns. Presently a great white cloud of smoke appeared in front, and from the twelve guns facing them another torrent of shot and shell was poured upon them. Assailed on front and flanks, the fury of the hail of death was indescribable. The excitement of the men reached fever-heat.
‘Forward! forward!’ they cried. ‘Let us get at the guns.’
Captain Norreys increased the pace and was soon alongside Lord Cardigan, who put out his sword across the Lancer’s breast.
‘Don’t pass the leader of the brigade,’ he said sternly; and Captain Norreys fell back.