Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Three.There through the piny forest half absorbed,Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear... stalks forlorn;Slow-paced and sourer as the storms increase,He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift,And with stern patience scorning weak complaintsHardens his heart against the assailing storms.Thomson.My friend the sergeant had, at some period prior to his enlistment into our corps, been to the gold diggings in California, probably from Mexico, where I believe he was born of English parents, though nothing could be ascertained in regard to his origin. The stories he told at various times would have filled a tolerable sized volume, and, had I ever thought of writing these pages, I would have preserved notes of his most interesting adventures, which he was ever ready to relate to us, either in barrack, camp, or on the line of march.One particular story, in reference to trapping a grizzly bear, I have heard him relate so often that I can repeat it in almost his own words.My readers should first be informed that the grizzly bear is the largest and most powerful wild beast that ranges the wilds of North America. The early pioneers of the route across the Rocky Mountains to Oregon and California, told of the wondrous size of these animals, and their reports were looked upon as fables until later research confirmed their truth.The grizzly is found throughout the whole range of the Rocky Mountains from Mexico to British Columbia, but he attains the largest size in New Mexico and Upper California. Unlike most other bears, the grizzly cannot climb a tree; the method of hunting him is mostly with dogs trained for the purpose—a pack, consisting of a dozen small terriers and four large mastiffs or bull-dogs, being best suited for the sport, if sport it can be called, which involves so great a risk of life. This bear, being a heavy limbed and sluggish brute, seldom travels far from his wonted haunts, although he can go very fast when pressed or in pursuit of his prey, of which he is not very particular in the selection. Buffalo, wild horses, deer, or man, are alike acceptable to him. He will crush in the head of the largest buffalo with a single stroke of his paw, and, throwing it across his back, carry it for miles to his lair.The sergeant stated that the Indians talk of bears of this species that have inhabited the same region for many years, and, as they live in deadly fear of the monsters, the advent of a party of grizzly-hunters is most welcome to them, and they willingly render all the service in their power in the hunt, but retire in fear when the game is brought to a stand. When pressed by hunters, the bear generally takes refuge in a thicket of bushes among the rocks, where it is hardly possible to get a shot at him; and, indeed, it is of little use shooting at this stage of the hunt, for, unless you can hit him in the eye, his skull will turn an ounce bullet as if it were a putty-ball. The skin is so thick, and so well covered with hair and fur, that it is almost impenetrable, and, unless you can hit him just beneath and behind the shoulder, you might as well spare your powder.When his retreat is discovered, the large dogs are held fast and the little terriers turned into the thicket; they yelp, snap at his heels, then fall back to avoid the strokes of his paws. Thus they worry and tease him for hours. Meanwhile his roars of anger, loud as thunder, seem to shake the very earth; sometimes the small dogs approach too near his head, and receive the penalty of their temerity in the form of a stroke which leaves them a mangled and lifeless mass, bearing little resemblance to the canine species. When the bear becomes completely tired, he seats himself upon his haunches, and turns this way and that, so as to always keep his face to the dogs. Now a hunter creeps stealthily up and endeavours to plant a ball in a vulnerable spot. If he succeeds in getting a clear sight of the bear, he generally wounds him, and he then breaks cover. The large dogs are now loosed, and fasten on him in the rear; the riflemen drop their shot at him, taking care to miss the dogs.It often requires hours to overcome the monster, whose tenacity of life is most wonderful. This is accounted for by the fact that the heart of the bear is thickly covered with fat, which prevents its bleeding; there is also a coat of fat just beneath the skin, which closes after the passage of the ball and prevents the blood flowing.The sergeant used to commence his story as follows:—“In the autumn of the year 1846 (being then only seventeen years old), I was encamped with a party of gold-diggers upon the head of the Sacramento River, at the western base of the California range of mountains. Our party consisted of a dozen men, myself being about the youngest; we were living in a small cabin constructed of poles and logs, and a happy, merry lot we were. All were engaged in washing the glittering gold-dust from the bed of the river, save a friend and myself, who were assigned the duty of victualling the camp with game and fish, now and then making a trip of four or five days’ duration to a trading port about sixty miles down the river, for tea, sugar, ammunition, etc. My friend, a young Irishman, generally went with me; we rode a couple of mustangs (horses bred in a wild state), and led or drove two pack-mules.“The ‘Emeralder’ and myself had formed a project to secure a menagerie of wild native animals, and adjoining our lodge we had a large cage, in the compartments of which were wolves, foxes, California lions, pumas, panthers, and a host of smaller fry, including birds. These we had, for the most part, secured when very young. We had long been most anxious to get a specimen of the ‘grizzly,’ but all our efforts in that way had failed. One morning, while we were at breakfast, a Mexican hide-dealer, who lived in a cabin a few miles from us, and from whom we had purchased several animals, called on us accompanied by four or five half-naked Indians, and told us that a large ‘grizzly,’ called by the natives ‘Mountain Thunder,’ had come down from the hills during the night and made a supper of a fat ox belonging to the Mexican. The Indians we had met in our hunting excursions had frequently told us of this monster. According to their reports he must have been near one hundred years of age, and of a size that a bear had never before attained. Their fathers had known that he lived years before they were born. This was not unlikely, for bears live to a great age; even in captivity they have been known to live a hundred years. We set out for the cabin of the Mexican. Near the house was the cattle-yard, the scene of the last night’s affair. The yard covered an area of about an acre, surrounded by a stout fence formed of large poles or stakes driven into the ground, and about ten feet high; within this the stock were all driven at night to preserve them from the attacks of bears, wolves, etc. On the side of the yard farthest from the dwelling, Bruin had made his entrance and left full proof of his strength behind him. Three or four large posts, about twelve inches in diameter, were torn from the earth in which they had been firmly planted to the depth of four feet; one had been broken at the surface of the ground, apparently by a stroke of the bear’s paw, as the indentures of his claws were an inch deep in the solid timber.“After seizing the ox, he had thrown him on his back and decamped. We followed his track up the banks of a small stream towards the mountains for some miles. I measured the prints of his hind-feet in the soft clay, and found they were eighteen inches in length from the heel to the mark of his claws, and a little over nine inches wide.“As we ascended the stream the course became more narrow and rocky, with a dense thicket of rough bushes clothing the hills on each side. Here the bear had made his feast; a few bones, horns, and hoofs, were all that was left, the wolves having eaten what the bear had left; some of the larger bones had been crushed like straws by his powerful grinders. After his brief banquet he had taken to the hills, where the party, with the exception of the Emeralder and myself, declined to follow him. After a brief consultation we determined to capture the ‘grizzly’ alive, if possible, and we set out on our return to our own cabin to complete our arrangements. The idea was scouted by our companions, but we determined to make the attempt. We felt sure, from the many footmarks, that the ravine was a favourite walk of the bear, and that he would return to the cattle-yard again in the course of a few nights. Loading our mules with tools at the lodge, we returned to the ravine and selected a suitable place where timber was plentiful. We then set about felling trees, and constructed a pen of logs about twenty feet square and six feet high, covering it with large poles, all firmly pinned together, and lashed with the bark of the ‘leather wood.’ It was midnight when we completed our task, and we could take no further proceedings that night. The next morning we returned, bringing with us a yearling heifer as a bait. We now raised one side of the pen about four feet, and placed a ‘figure four,’ or what is there termed a ‘dead-fall’ trap, beneath it, so arranged that, by pulling a cord attached to the ‘spindle,’ the edifice would come down with a run. We next staked the yearling under the cage, giving her plenty of grass, and led our cord out several yards down the stream, making it fast to a small tree which commanded a view of our trap, and in the branches of this tree one of us was to remain, ready to pull the cord, each night, until Bruin was captured. We fitted up a dry cave with buffalo-skins, near by, as a sleeping apartment.“We watched two nights without success, passing a portion of our time in the day, when not sleeping, in fishing, cooking, and cutting grass for the heifer. About the middle of the third night, I was perched in my tree—the Emeralder had just retired to rest—when I heard a rustling of the bushes on the hill-side above me, and a low growl, which was unmistakably a signal of Bruin’s approach. My companion heard it as well, and put his head out of the cave. I motioned him to remain quiet. Soon the bear came slowly down into the ravine below me, and walked into the water-course to drink. When he emerged from the shelter of the bush into the bright moonlight, I was astonished at his size; he seemed like an elephant cut off at the knees. He took a drink, snuffing the water and the air around him, as if his instinct told him all was not right. I was fearful that he would go down the stream towards the Mexican’s cattle-yard, and thus we should lose him.“The proximity of the bear alarmed the yearling; as if from instinct, she gave a low bellow of terror. Bruin caught the sound, and started off in a trot in the direction of the trap. He passed directly under my perch, stopping for a moment as if he scented me, which he no doubt did; and if I was not frightened, I certainly felt better when he moved on. I watched him until he reached the cage, around which he walked to reconnoitre. His love of veal soon overcame whatever scruples he might have had as to the nature of the structure, and my heart went pit-a-pat as I saw him stoop and crawl under the raised side.“I waited until I heard the doomed calf’s bellow of pain; then I gave the cord a strong pull. With a crash, the machine came down; and the bear gave such a roar as I never heard before, or care to hear again. He made good his Indian title of ‘Mountain Thunder.’“The terrible sound rolled down through the ravine, and was echoed from hill to hill like the reports from a battery of artillery. Wolves, panthers, and hundreds of birds answered the sound with screams of terror in every direction. In a trice my mate and myself were on the spot, shouting with delight at our good fortune. We drove some large stakes, which we had previously prepared, into the earth, and lashed our cage firmly to them.“Meanwhile, the bear was rushing about the trap, tearing and crushing the poor yearling to atoms, biting and breaking the timber which had formed the ‘figure four,’ as if he knew it was the author of his woes. We made a fire, and watched by him until morning. By this time he had found all his efforts to escape futile, and he stood in a corner of the cage with his nose to the ground in sullen silence.“At daylight my mate left me on guard, while he returned to the cabin to make arrangements for moving him. Towards mid-day the bear ate up what was left of the calf, and laid himself down, first scratching a large hole in the ground, in which he wallowed like a pig. I had a visit during the day from the Mexican and Indians, who were much astonished and rejoiced at our success.“The second day after the capture, the Emeralder returned with our friends from the cabin, who were wonder-struck at the huge size of our prize. They brought with them a large cage constructed, at the cabin, of heavy bars of lancewood, rudely but strongly secured with iron. It was mounted upon one of the heavy waggons we had brought from Saint Louis across the plains, and drawn by six oxen.“We managed to fasten the bar into one side of the trap by shoving poles through; then we cut an opening in the other side big enough for his egress. We then sank the wheels into the soil, bringing the door of the cage down to the opening of the trap; then, by using burning firebrands, we forced Bruin into the cage on the waggon, and secured him.“Over a bottle of whisky we christened him, in our style, after his Indian name, ‘Mountain Thunder,’ by which title he was afterwards well known throughout California. We gave him some water, which he drank eagerly; and, after satisfying himself of the strength of his new lodgings, he lay sullenly down, and gave no further trouble. On reaching the cattle-yard, we gave him the carcase of a sheep, which he soon ate up, bones and all. In a few days after our arrival at the camp, the bear appeared perfectly reconciled to his new position. He ate, drank, and slept well, and at times appeared inclined to gambol, if he had room enough.“The Emeralder and myself, a few weeks after the capture of the bear, bade adieu to our gold-seeking friends, and with a small train of wild-beast waggons took our line of march for Sacramento City, where we made plenty of money by exhibiting our menagerie.“While there a Mexican butcher made a wager that his six large bull-dogs could ‘flax out’ ‘Mountain Thunder.’ A huge amphitheatre was constructed, and Bruin turned loose; we had over one thousand visitors that day, at one dollar per head. The six dogs, of the largest size, trained and used to throwing wild cattle on the plains for the butcher’s knife, were turned in and resolutely attacked the bear with great pluck. In about six minutes six mangled masses of dog’s meat were strewed about the amphitheatre, while the bear had not a visible scratch. ‘Mountain Thunder’ was weighed at Sacramento, and found to pull down eighteen hundred and sixty pounds.“We next went to San Francisoo, where we reaped a rich harvest, and afterwards shaped our course for the city of Mexico, where ‘Mountain Thunder’ fought a battle with a fierce Spanish bull in the bull-ring. The bull gored him slightly in the mouth, which enraged him to the highest pitch of ferocity, and giving him one blow of his paw he sent him flying across the ring, with his back and shoulder broken and his ribs crushed in. The bear performed a similar fête at Vera Cruz, where he was shipped for New Orleans. Here we chartered all the ferry-boats plying between New Orleans and the opposite side of the Mississippi for one day, and leased the race-course at Algiers for the same period. We then advertised that ‘Mountain Thunder’ would fight a bull on that day, and the speculation turned out a success. I first thought the bear would be killed, he appeared so very slow and stupid. The bull, a large and fierce black one, plunged his horns against his ribs, nearly upsetting him; even then he did not seem disposed to resent it, and not till he came again did he show signs of pluck; then as the bull came bellowing on, with eyes flashing fire and head to the earth, Bruin coolly raised one paw and struck him between the eyes. The blow was terrific; blood and brains flew from his ears and nose, and on examination it was found that the entire front of his skull was crushed in and his neck broken.“The Emeralder and myself finally sold ‘Mountain Thunder’ to winter in a museum at Cincinnati; the various other animals and birds were also taken at a good price by the Curator. We divided the money equally, and found ourselves in possession of thirteen hundred pounds each.”

There through the piny forest half absorbed,Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear... stalks forlorn;Slow-paced and sourer as the storms increase,He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift,And with stern patience scorning weak complaintsHardens his heart against the assailing storms.Thomson.

There through the piny forest half absorbed,Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear... stalks forlorn;Slow-paced and sourer as the storms increase,He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift,And with stern patience scorning weak complaintsHardens his heart against the assailing storms.Thomson.

My friend the sergeant had, at some period prior to his enlistment into our corps, been to the gold diggings in California, probably from Mexico, where I believe he was born of English parents, though nothing could be ascertained in regard to his origin. The stories he told at various times would have filled a tolerable sized volume, and, had I ever thought of writing these pages, I would have preserved notes of his most interesting adventures, which he was ever ready to relate to us, either in barrack, camp, or on the line of march.

One particular story, in reference to trapping a grizzly bear, I have heard him relate so often that I can repeat it in almost his own words.

My readers should first be informed that the grizzly bear is the largest and most powerful wild beast that ranges the wilds of North America. The early pioneers of the route across the Rocky Mountains to Oregon and California, told of the wondrous size of these animals, and their reports were looked upon as fables until later research confirmed their truth.

The grizzly is found throughout the whole range of the Rocky Mountains from Mexico to British Columbia, but he attains the largest size in New Mexico and Upper California. Unlike most other bears, the grizzly cannot climb a tree; the method of hunting him is mostly with dogs trained for the purpose—a pack, consisting of a dozen small terriers and four large mastiffs or bull-dogs, being best suited for the sport, if sport it can be called, which involves so great a risk of life. This bear, being a heavy limbed and sluggish brute, seldom travels far from his wonted haunts, although he can go very fast when pressed or in pursuit of his prey, of which he is not very particular in the selection. Buffalo, wild horses, deer, or man, are alike acceptable to him. He will crush in the head of the largest buffalo with a single stroke of his paw, and, throwing it across his back, carry it for miles to his lair.

The sergeant stated that the Indians talk of bears of this species that have inhabited the same region for many years, and, as they live in deadly fear of the monsters, the advent of a party of grizzly-hunters is most welcome to them, and they willingly render all the service in their power in the hunt, but retire in fear when the game is brought to a stand. When pressed by hunters, the bear generally takes refuge in a thicket of bushes among the rocks, where it is hardly possible to get a shot at him; and, indeed, it is of little use shooting at this stage of the hunt, for, unless you can hit him in the eye, his skull will turn an ounce bullet as if it were a putty-ball. The skin is so thick, and so well covered with hair and fur, that it is almost impenetrable, and, unless you can hit him just beneath and behind the shoulder, you might as well spare your powder.

When his retreat is discovered, the large dogs are held fast and the little terriers turned into the thicket; they yelp, snap at his heels, then fall back to avoid the strokes of his paws. Thus they worry and tease him for hours. Meanwhile his roars of anger, loud as thunder, seem to shake the very earth; sometimes the small dogs approach too near his head, and receive the penalty of their temerity in the form of a stroke which leaves them a mangled and lifeless mass, bearing little resemblance to the canine species. When the bear becomes completely tired, he seats himself upon his haunches, and turns this way and that, so as to always keep his face to the dogs. Now a hunter creeps stealthily up and endeavours to plant a ball in a vulnerable spot. If he succeeds in getting a clear sight of the bear, he generally wounds him, and he then breaks cover. The large dogs are now loosed, and fasten on him in the rear; the riflemen drop their shot at him, taking care to miss the dogs.

It often requires hours to overcome the monster, whose tenacity of life is most wonderful. This is accounted for by the fact that the heart of the bear is thickly covered with fat, which prevents its bleeding; there is also a coat of fat just beneath the skin, which closes after the passage of the ball and prevents the blood flowing.

The sergeant used to commence his story as follows:—

“In the autumn of the year 1846 (being then only seventeen years old), I was encamped with a party of gold-diggers upon the head of the Sacramento River, at the western base of the California range of mountains. Our party consisted of a dozen men, myself being about the youngest; we were living in a small cabin constructed of poles and logs, and a happy, merry lot we were. All were engaged in washing the glittering gold-dust from the bed of the river, save a friend and myself, who were assigned the duty of victualling the camp with game and fish, now and then making a trip of four or five days’ duration to a trading port about sixty miles down the river, for tea, sugar, ammunition, etc. My friend, a young Irishman, generally went with me; we rode a couple of mustangs (horses bred in a wild state), and led or drove two pack-mules.

“The ‘Emeralder’ and myself had formed a project to secure a menagerie of wild native animals, and adjoining our lodge we had a large cage, in the compartments of which were wolves, foxes, California lions, pumas, panthers, and a host of smaller fry, including birds. These we had, for the most part, secured when very young. We had long been most anxious to get a specimen of the ‘grizzly,’ but all our efforts in that way had failed. One morning, while we were at breakfast, a Mexican hide-dealer, who lived in a cabin a few miles from us, and from whom we had purchased several animals, called on us accompanied by four or five half-naked Indians, and told us that a large ‘grizzly,’ called by the natives ‘Mountain Thunder,’ had come down from the hills during the night and made a supper of a fat ox belonging to the Mexican. The Indians we had met in our hunting excursions had frequently told us of this monster. According to their reports he must have been near one hundred years of age, and of a size that a bear had never before attained. Their fathers had known that he lived years before they were born. This was not unlikely, for bears live to a great age; even in captivity they have been known to live a hundred years. We set out for the cabin of the Mexican. Near the house was the cattle-yard, the scene of the last night’s affair. The yard covered an area of about an acre, surrounded by a stout fence formed of large poles or stakes driven into the ground, and about ten feet high; within this the stock were all driven at night to preserve them from the attacks of bears, wolves, etc. On the side of the yard farthest from the dwelling, Bruin had made his entrance and left full proof of his strength behind him. Three or four large posts, about twelve inches in diameter, were torn from the earth in which they had been firmly planted to the depth of four feet; one had been broken at the surface of the ground, apparently by a stroke of the bear’s paw, as the indentures of his claws were an inch deep in the solid timber.

“After seizing the ox, he had thrown him on his back and decamped. We followed his track up the banks of a small stream towards the mountains for some miles. I measured the prints of his hind-feet in the soft clay, and found they were eighteen inches in length from the heel to the mark of his claws, and a little over nine inches wide.

“As we ascended the stream the course became more narrow and rocky, with a dense thicket of rough bushes clothing the hills on each side. Here the bear had made his feast; a few bones, horns, and hoofs, were all that was left, the wolves having eaten what the bear had left; some of the larger bones had been crushed like straws by his powerful grinders. After his brief banquet he had taken to the hills, where the party, with the exception of the Emeralder and myself, declined to follow him. After a brief consultation we determined to capture the ‘grizzly’ alive, if possible, and we set out on our return to our own cabin to complete our arrangements. The idea was scouted by our companions, but we determined to make the attempt. We felt sure, from the many footmarks, that the ravine was a favourite walk of the bear, and that he would return to the cattle-yard again in the course of a few nights. Loading our mules with tools at the lodge, we returned to the ravine and selected a suitable place where timber was plentiful. We then set about felling trees, and constructed a pen of logs about twenty feet square and six feet high, covering it with large poles, all firmly pinned together, and lashed with the bark of the ‘leather wood.’ It was midnight when we completed our task, and we could take no further proceedings that night. The next morning we returned, bringing with us a yearling heifer as a bait. We now raised one side of the pen about four feet, and placed a ‘figure four,’ or what is there termed a ‘dead-fall’ trap, beneath it, so arranged that, by pulling a cord attached to the ‘spindle,’ the edifice would come down with a run. We next staked the yearling under the cage, giving her plenty of grass, and led our cord out several yards down the stream, making it fast to a small tree which commanded a view of our trap, and in the branches of this tree one of us was to remain, ready to pull the cord, each night, until Bruin was captured. We fitted up a dry cave with buffalo-skins, near by, as a sleeping apartment.

“We watched two nights without success, passing a portion of our time in the day, when not sleeping, in fishing, cooking, and cutting grass for the heifer. About the middle of the third night, I was perched in my tree—the Emeralder had just retired to rest—when I heard a rustling of the bushes on the hill-side above me, and a low growl, which was unmistakably a signal of Bruin’s approach. My companion heard it as well, and put his head out of the cave. I motioned him to remain quiet. Soon the bear came slowly down into the ravine below me, and walked into the water-course to drink. When he emerged from the shelter of the bush into the bright moonlight, I was astonished at his size; he seemed like an elephant cut off at the knees. He took a drink, snuffing the water and the air around him, as if his instinct told him all was not right. I was fearful that he would go down the stream towards the Mexican’s cattle-yard, and thus we should lose him.

“The proximity of the bear alarmed the yearling; as if from instinct, she gave a low bellow of terror. Bruin caught the sound, and started off in a trot in the direction of the trap. He passed directly under my perch, stopping for a moment as if he scented me, which he no doubt did; and if I was not frightened, I certainly felt better when he moved on. I watched him until he reached the cage, around which he walked to reconnoitre. His love of veal soon overcame whatever scruples he might have had as to the nature of the structure, and my heart went pit-a-pat as I saw him stoop and crawl under the raised side.

“I waited until I heard the doomed calf’s bellow of pain; then I gave the cord a strong pull. With a crash, the machine came down; and the bear gave such a roar as I never heard before, or care to hear again. He made good his Indian title of ‘Mountain Thunder.’

“The terrible sound rolled down through the ravine, and was echoed from hill to hill like the reports from a battery of artillery. Wolves, panthers, and hundreds of birds answered the sound with screams of terror in every direction. In a trice my mate and myself were on the spot, shouting with delight at our good fortune. We drove some large stakes, which we had previously prepared, into the earth, and lashed our cage firmly to them.

“Meanwhile, the bear was rushing about the trap, tearing and crushing the poor yearling to atoms, biting and breaking the timber which had formed the ‘figure four,’ as if he knew it was the author of his woes. We made a fire, and watched by him until morning. By this time he had found all his efforts to escape futile, and he stood in a corner of the cage with his nose to the ground in sullen silence.

“At daylight my mate left me on guard, while he returned to the cabin to make arrangements for moving him. Towards mid-day the bear ate up what was left of the calf, and laid himself down, first scratching a large hole in the ground, in which he wallowed like a pig. I had a visit during the day from the Mexican and Indians, who were much astonished and rejoiced at our success.

“The second day after the capture, the Emeralder returned with our friends from the cabin, who were wonder-struck at the huge size of our prize. They brought with them a large cage constructed, at the cabin, of heavy bars of lancewood, rudely but strongly secured with iron. It was mounted upon one of the heavy waggons we had brought from Saint Louis across the plains, and drawn by six oxen.

“We managed to fasten the bar into one side of the trap by shoving poles through; then we cut an opening in the other side big enough for his egress. We then sank the wheels into the soil, bringing the door of the cage down to the opening of the trap; then, by using burning firebrands, we forced Bruin into the cage on the waggon, and secured him.

“Over a bottle of whisky we christened him, in our style, after his Indian name, ‘Mountain Thunder,’ by which title he was afterwards well known throughout California. We gave him some water, which he drank eagerly; and, after satisfying himself of the strength of his new lodgings, he lay sullenly down, and gave no further trouble. On reaching the cattle-yard, we gave him the carcase of a sheep, which he soon ate up, bones and all. In a few days after our arrival at the camp, the bear appeared perfectly reconciled to his new position. He ate, drank, and slept well, and at times appeared inclined to gambol, if he had room enough.

“The Emeralder and myself, a few weeks after the capture of the bear, bade adieu to our gold-seeking friends, and with a small train of wild-beast waggons took our line of march for Sacramento City, where we made plenty of money by exhibiting our menagerie.

“While there a Mexican butcher made a wager that his six large bull-dogs could ‘flax out’ ‘Mountain Thunder.’ A huge amphitheatre was constructed, and Bruin turned loose; we had over one thousand visitors that day, at one dollar per head. The six dogs, of the largest size, trained and used to throwing wild cattle on the plains for the butcher’s knife, were turned in and resolutely attacked the bear with great pluck. In about six minutes six mangled masses of dog’s meat were strewed about the amphitheatre, while the bear had not a visible scratch. ‘Mountain Thunder’ was weighed at Sacramento, and found to pull down eighteen hundred and sixty pounds.

“We next went to San Francisoo, where we reaped a rich harvest, and afterwards shaped our course for the city of Mexico, where ‘Mountain Thunder’ fought a battle with a fierce Spanish bull in the bull-ring. The bull gored him slightly in the mouth, which enraged him to the highest pitch of ferocity, and giving him one blow of his paw he sent him flying across the ring, with his back and shoulder broken and his ribs crushed in. The bear performed a similar fête at Vera Cruz, where he was shipped for New Orleans. Here we chartered all the ferry-boats plying between New Orleans and the opposite side of the Mississippi for one day, and leased the race-course at Algiers for the same period. We then advertised that ‘Mountain Thunder’ would fight a bull on that day, and the speculation turned out a success. I first thought the bear would be killed, he appeared so very slow and stupid. The bull, a large and fierce black one, plunged his horns against his ribs, nearly upsetting him; even then he did not seem disposed to resent it, and not till he came again did he show signs of pluck; then as the bull came bellowing on, with eyes flashing fire and head to the earth, Bruin coolly raised one paw and struck him between the eyes. The blow was terrific; blood and brains flew from his ears and nose, and on examination it was found that the entire front of his skull was crushed in and his neck broken.

“The Emeralder and myself finally sold ‘Mountain Thunder’ to winter in a museum at Cincinnati; the various other animals and birds were also taken at a good price by the Curator. We divided the money equally, and found ourselves in possession of thirteen hundred pounds each.”

Chapter Twenty Four.Portance in my travels’ history;Wherein of antres vast and desarts idle,Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose tops touch heaven,It was my wont to speak.Shakespeare.“Having done so well with our wild-beast speculation, we determined to return to, the Rocky Mountains on another cruise after bears, panthers, or anything we could manage to secure likely to make money.“Providing ourselves with stores, ammunition, etc, we set out with a train of four waggons and eight horses. Two of these waggons were constructed for the safe keeping of wild animals: one was laden with stores, and the other was a covered van to live in.“We engaged two assistants, named respectively Jake Barnes and Pete Tonsley. Onwards we trudged, slowly but surely, over our, at times, uncertain track in the wilderness. Jake and Pete, who were two overgrown lads, were continually breaking away into the bush after birds of beautiful plumage, which were continually flitting across our path, and armed with short pieces of stick they killed many that were valuable for the sake of their skins. Pete was the wildest of the two, and we had on several occasions to halt for hours awaiting his return ere the night set in. On one occasion Pete had been away most of the afternoon, promising before he started to take his bearings properly, and keep the smoke from the chimney of the caravan in sight; Jake, whom he left behind, promising to feed the fire well with green leaves, in order to make the smoke more dense.“It was fast growing dark, the smoke was no longer visible, and we had reached a thick piece of wood where, Pete being still absent, we determined to come to a halt. Rifles were fired, and we had all shouted until we were quite hoarse. Poor Pete was evidently lost in the bush, or had fell a prey to panthers, or perhaps Indians. We determined to find him dead or alive, if possible. Feeling our way through the bush, each with a lantern and candle, Jake and I started in search of our missing mate, leaving the Emeralder in charge of the waggon-train. We had not proceeded far when a series of screams and smothered sounds, as if produced by some one in great distress, reached us from a point not far from our left.“‘What’n all creation’s that?’ said Jake, coming to a sudden halt.“‘Indians,’ said I, looking ahead as far as I could.“‘Ingins! No, sir, it’s Pete; and that’s somethin’ a-hurting him. Let’s run out that way,’ said Jake.“‘H-o-o-o-o! bah-h-h! he-e-e-oy! murder-r-r! hoo-o-o-oy!’ came the sounds, so thick and fast that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any space between them.“We dashed off towards the point from whence the sounds issued.“‘Bla-a-a-blah! bla-a-a-bloo! ho-o-o-oyh!’ went the sufferer, if such it really was, and ‘ipitty-tip’ through the thick shrubs went Jake and I, now nearly out of breath. Nearer and nearer came the sounds, until presently the light of a fire broke in upon our visions.“‘What kin all this mean, guvner?’ said Jake.“‘It’s an Indian decoy. We’re in for a fight,’ said I, loosening my bowie-knife.“‘No. Don’t think it’s Ingins; tha wouldn’t a’ kindled a fire that-a-way. No; can’t be Ingins! ’Sides, tha is friendly now,’ said Jake, as he dodged behind in my footsteps, striving to appear brave.“At length we reached within hail of the fire, but, although the sounds of distress continued, we could perceive nothing beyond a log and a little brushwood around it on fire. Not a human form was visible; yet the strange sounds came forth as fresh as formerly, and, what was more unaccountable, they appeared to issue immediately from the fire. What was it?—the Evil One, or an Indian decoy, surely, for, as the fire was not larger than a bushel measure, we believed that no creature with life could be in it.“While we stood gazing, first at the fire, then at each other, Jake’s face, naturally dark, but now darker than usual, became suddenly lightened as with a new idea, and away he bounded to the other end of the log farthest from the fire.“‘Claw away the fire! claw away the fire!’ shouted he, springing towards the end of the log, which the brushwood had set on fire and burnt away about a foot. I did not know what he wanted the fire ‘clawed away’ from, but I fell to work, and very naturally clawed it away from the log. ‘Wait’ll I come back with an axe,’ said Jake, bounding off towards the waggons, and leaving me alone beside the log, which was hollow and contained something alive—evidently a man—perhaps poor Pete; but the whole circumstance was wrapt in such a great degree of mystery that I could not attempt to unravel it, especially as the sounds of distress had ceased. Presently, Jake returned with a sharp axe, and, mounting on the log without saying a word to me, he brought the implement down with such force as to send the great chips whizzing in every direction.“Suddenly there appeared something black; Jake had cut through. He stopped, raked the chips away with his bands, and peered into the hollow; a simple glance seemed, to satisfy his curiosity, and, leaping upon the log some six or eight feet farther back from the fire, he fell to chopping again with as much eagerness as before. In a little while the hollow appeared at that point, and then he commenced to split out the block between the two holes. A few strokes started a crack. A few more, very cautiously dealt, and out tumbled the block, as if a box-lid had been suddenly opened, leaving exposed to our wondering gaze the body of a man.“‘Pete Tonsley, as I live!’ said Jake. ‘Pete, what in thunder are you doing here?’“Pete rolled over two or three times, put his hand on his head to call our attention to the fact that his hair was pretty well singed off, and then said—“‘Nothin’.’“‘Wal, I think ye wasn’t a doin’ nothin’ only a-hollerin’,’ continued Jake; ‘and if we hadn’t just a-heard ye, ye wouldn’t soon a’ bin doin’ that. But tell us how ye come to be in that thar log?’“‘Wal,’ said Pete, ‘I sees a ground-hog (hedgehog) a sort o’ slippin’ across this way, soon after I left the track this afternoon, and we had a mortal tight race out to this log here, and then it got here first, and got away. When I sees what the thing went and done, my dander riz, and sez I to myself, Pete Tonsley ’ll show you how to slide into a log next time; and then I kindles a fire up in the holler at this end of the log, a-thinkin’ I might smoke the varmint out at t’other. Wal, I smoked, and I smoked, but nary a ground-hog could I see come out, and then sez I to myself, it might be that the “wood chuck” had slipt out while I was lightin’ the fire, and I had best be going back to the track afore it gets dark. But I didn’t like to be beat by a ground-hog, so I got a long pole and punched into the log at t’other end, but nary nothin’ would come out, though it struck me I could feel it, and once I thought I heard it chatter, as if a sorter a-darin’ me. That made me mortal mad, and, seeing as how the holler was big enough to creep in at yon end furthest from the fire, I lay down, grit my teeth, and slid in, determined to fetch out the varmint, dead or alive. I wound into the log right up to the fire thar, and seed it was all a mistake. I could feel nary a ground-hog in it, and then I began to hitch back feet foremost, but one hitch was all I could make, for just as I was making the second scrouge out, a knot, or a sharp sliver, or somethin’ catched into the seat of my britches, and held me as tight as a wedge. The britches bein’ new, I could not tear loose. I kickt and I cust, and squirmed around in the log for some time, and then I found one of my legs got fast too. It seemed a funny thing at fust to be in this fix, but when the fire begun to blaze in at the end of the log thar, and to creep atords me, I kinder got to feelin’ very oneasy, and when it got right up, and kotched the handkerchief what I tied around my head, I felt mortal skeered. When it came to singin’ of my har, I began to holler, and that’s what brought you out here, I reckon.’“It was a lucky moment for Pete that we found him, for fire in ten minutes more would have sent him to his long home.”With these two narratives of the sergeant’s adventures abroad, I must close my remarks concerning him. How he lost his money, got into the Spanish service, and eventually in the British army, he never appeared ready to explain.

Portance in my travels’ history;Wherein of antres vast and desarts idle,Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose tops touch heaven,It was my wont to speak.Shakespeare.

Portance in my travels’ history;Wherein of antres vast and desarts idle,Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose tops touch heaven,It was my wont to speak.Shakespeare.

“Having done so well with our wild-beast speculation, we determined to return to, the Rocky Mountains on another cruise after bears, panthers, or anything we could manage to secure likely to make money.

“Providing ourselves with stores, ammunition, etc, we set out with a train of four waggons and eight horses. Two of these waggons were constructed for the safe keeping of wild animals: one was laden with stores, and the other was a covered van to live in.

“We engaged two assistants, named respectively Jake Barnes and Pete Tonsley. Onwards we trudged, slowly but surely, over our, at times, uncertain track in the wilderness. Jake and Pete, who were two overgrown lads, were continually breaking away into the bush after birds of beautiful plumage, which were continually flitting across our path, and armed with short pieces of stick they killed many that were valuable for the sake of their skins. Pete was the wildest of the two, and we had on several occasions to halt for hours awaiting his return ere the night set in. On one occasion Pete had been away most of the afternoon, promising before he started to take his bearings properly, and keep the smoke from the chimney of the caravan in sight; Jake, whom he left behind, promising to feed the fire well with green leaves, in order to make the smoke more dense.

“It was fast growing dark, the smoke was no longer visible, and we had reached a thick piece of wood where, Pete being still absent, we determined to come to a halt. Rifles were fired, and we had all shouted until we were quite hoarse. Poor Pete was evidently lost in the bush, or had fell a prey to panthers, or perhaps Indians. We determined to find him dead or alive, if possible. Feeling our way through the bush, each with a lantern and candle, Jake and I started in search of our missing mate, leaving the Emeralder in charge of the waggon-train. We had not proceeded far when a series of screams and smothered sounds, as if produced by some one in great distress, reached us from a point not far from our left.

“‘What’n all creation’s that?’ said Jake, coming to a sudden halt.

“‘Indians,’ said I, looking ahead as far as I could.

“‘Ingins! No, sir, it’s Pete; and that’s somethin’ a-hurting him. Let’s run out that way,’ said Jake.

“‘H-o-o-o-o! bah-h-h! he-e-e-oy! murder-r-r! hoo-o-o-oy!’ came the sounds, so thick and fast that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any space between them.

“We dashed off towards the point from whence the sounds issued.

“‘Bla-a-a-blah! bla-a-a-bloo! ho-o-o-oyh!’ went the sufferer, if such it really was, and ‘ipitty-tip’ through the thick shrubs went Jake and I, now nearly out of breath. Nearer and nearer came the sounds, until presently the light of a fire broke in upon our visions.

“‘What kin all this mean, guvner?’ said Jake.

“‘It’s an Indian decoy. We’re in for a fight,’ said I, loosening my bowie-knife.

“‘No. Don’t think it’s Ingins; tha wouldn’t a’ kindled a fire that-a-way. No; can’t be Ingins! ’Sides, tha is friendly now,’ said Jake, as he dodged behind in my footsteps, striving to appear brave.

“At length we reached within hail of the fire, but, although the sounds of distress continued, we could perceive nothing beyond a log and a little brushwood around it on fire. Not a human form was visible; yet the strange sounds came forth as fresh as formerly, and, what was more unaccountable, they appeared to issue immediately from the fire. What was it?—the Evil One, or an Indian decoy, surely, for, as the fire was not larger than a bushel measure, we believed that no creature with life could be in it.

“While we stood gazing, first at the fire, then at each other, Jake’s face, naturally dark, but now darker than usual, became suddenly lightened as with a new idea, and away he bounded to the other end of the log farthest from the fire.

“‘Claw away the fire! claw away the fire!’ shouted he, springing towards the end of the log, which the brushwood had set on fire and burnt away about a foot. I did not know what he wanted the fire ‘clawed away’ from, but I fell to work, and very naturally clawed it away from the log. ‘Wait’ll I come back with an axe,’ said Jake, bounding off towards the waggons, and leaving me alone beside the log, which was hollow and contained something alive—evidently a man—perhaps poor Pete; but the whole circumstance was wrapt in such a great degree of mystery that I could not attempt to unravel it, especially as the sounds of distress had ceased. Presently, Jake returned with a sharp axe, and, mounting on the log without saying a word to me, he brought the implement down with such force as to send the great chips whizzing in every direction.

“Suddenly there appeared something black; Jake had cut through. He stopped, raked the chips away with his bands, and peered into the hollow; a simple glance seemed, to satisfy his curiosity, and, leaping upon the log some six or eight feet farther back from the fire, he fell to chopping again with as much eagerness as before. In a little while the hollow appeared at that point, and then he commenced to split out the block between the two holes. A few strokes started a crack. A few more, very cautiously dealt, and out tumbled the block, as if a box-lid had been suddenly opened, leaving exposed to our wondering gaze the body of a man.

“‘Pete Tonsley, as I live!’ said Jake. ‘Pete, what in thunder are you doing here?’

“Pete rolled over two or three times, put his hand on his head to call our attention to the fact that his hair was pretty well singed off, and then said—

“‘Nothin’.’

“‘Wal, I think ye wasn’t a doin’ nothin’ only a-hollerin’,’ continued Jake; ‘and if we hadn’t just a-heard ye, ye wouldn’t soon a’ bin doin’ that. But tell us how ye come to be in that thar log?’

“‘Wal,’ said Pete, ‘I sees a ground-hog (hedgehog) a sort o’ slippin’ across this way, soon after I left the track this afternoon, and we had a mortal tight race out to this log here, and then it got here first, and got away. When I sees what the thing went and done, my dander riz, and sez I to myself, Pete Tonsley ’ll show you how to slide into a log next time; and then I kindles a fire up in the holler at this end of the log, a-thinkin’ I might smoke the varmint out at t’other. Wal, I smoked, and I smoked, but nary a ground-hog could I see come out, and then sez I to myself, it might be that the “wood chuck” had slipt out while I was lightin’ the fire, and I had best be going back to the track afore it gets dark. But I didn’t like to be beat by a ground-hog, so I got a long pole and punched into the log at t’other end, but nary nothin’ would come out, though it struck me I could feel it, and once I thought I heard it chatter, as if a sorter a-darin’ me. That made me mortal mad, and, seeing as how the holler was big enough to creep in at yon end furthest from the fire, I lay down, grit my teeth, and slid in, determined to fetch out the varmint, dead or alive. I wound into the log right up to the fire thar, and seed it was all a mistake. I could feel nary a ground-hog in it, and then I began to hitch back feet foremost, but one hitch was all I could make, for just as I was making the second scrouge out, a knot, or a sharp sliver, or somethin’ catched into the seat of my britches, and held me as tight as a wedge. The britches bein’ new, I could not tear loose. I kickt and I cust, and squirmed around in the log for some time, and then I found one of my legs got fast too. It seemed a funny thing at fust to be in this fix, but when the fire begun to blaze in at the end of the log thar, and to creep atords me, I kinder got to feelin’ very oneasy, and when it got right up, and kotched the handkerchief what I tied around my head, I felt mortal skeered. When it came to singin’ of my har, I began to holler, and that’s what brought you out here, I reckon.’

“It was a lucky moment for Pete that we found him, for fire in ten minutes more would have sent him to his long home.”

With these two narratives of the sergeant’s adventures abroad, I must close my remarks concerning him. How he lost his money, got into the Spanish service, and eventually in the British army, he never appeared ready to explain.

Chapter Twenty Five.Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order giveTo sounds confused; behold the threaden sails.Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea,Breasting the lofty surge.Shakespeare.Beyond the ordinary routine of barrack life, and the every-day duty of a dragoon, nothing very remarkable occurred during my term of service, in addition to what I have related, until the embarkation of my regiment for active service in the Crimea.The reader will please to observe that I had never before been on a campaign, and the regiment in which I had the honour to serve had never been particularly distinguished in battle for a period of more than twenty years. It had been well understood for years, that whenever a serious war was declared we should be first on the roll of regiments for service. In fact, we had twice been under orders for India—once during the Affghanistan campaign in 1841-2, and again when the Sikh war broke out—but the cavalry already abroad turned out a sufficient force for the purpose.I may safely remark that three-fourths of the soldiers in the British army would sooner serve on a campaign than endure the monotony of life in a barrack. The former kind of service is just the sort of life for which all really good men join the army. There are many very respectable, educated men serving in the ranks of our dragoon regiments that would cheerfully endure the hardships of a campaign and the privations of a camp life, surrounded by danger, disease, cold, hunger, and even death, in preference to years of drudgery and comparative inactivity in barracks.It is wonderful to see with what rapidity the ranks of a cavalry regiment proceeding on active service are augmented from other corps not under orders to serve. As may be supposed, when a regiment is told off for service abroad, there are numbers who are physically incapable of enduring the change of climate, and others whose term of service having nearly expired, with other considerations, render it advisable for commanding officers to reject them; consequently, their places have to be filled up by a system of volunteering from other regiments.On such occasions, orders are sent to the commanding officers of those corps remaining at home to supply a certain number of good men. These orders are read out to the soldiers when they assemble for roll-call at evening stable hour. The regiment, with the locality to which it is proceeding, and the nature of the service in which it is expected to be engaged, together with the number of men required, is distinctly specified; after which, it is stated that “those men willing to serve will step forward.” Instantly the words are delivered there is a rush to the front of many more than is required. In my opinion, nothing can be more noble: there stand the gallant fellows ready to sacrifice a life of comparative ease for hardships, danger, and, probably, death in a foreign land.I have frequently noticed that the men so volunteering are chiefly the most intelligent and best soldiers in the regiment—men who, having enlisted as soldiers, wish to fulfil the purpose for which they joined the army, and not the idle “skulks” who enlist, thinking that a soldier’s life in barracks is easier than the occupation in which they are engaged as civilians.By this system of volunteering, the best men and willing hearts have ever been secured for the desperate struggles in which they have from time, to time been engaged. The amount of enthusiasm which pervades the army and the greater part of the population on the declaration of war, is a striking instance of the bravery of the British race. The deserving soldier—always well treated by civilians in England, Ireland, and Scotland in time of peace—is absolutely idolised when proceeding on or returning from a campaign. I perfectly remember the—I might almost say—triumphant march of a portion of our regiment from barracks for many days, on our way for embarkation at Plymouth. The country people cheered us, shook hands, clung to our stirrups, gave us tobacco, and, at times, too much drink. The ladies—high, low, and middle-class—waved their handkerchiefs, threw us kisses, “wished they were going with us,” and many made us handsome presents of money, rings, etc. We were all in good health and spirits, and our horses fresh, sound, and full of spirits.In this order we entered Plymouth, and were rapidly embarked aboard three transports, and sailed the evening of the day we arrived, amidst many a round of hearty cheers from the thousands of people who crowded on the beach.Nothing very extraordinary occurred during the voyage to Varna, except that many of our men were dreadfully sea-sick, the nature of our duty on board rendering it impossible for us to lie down, which is the only effectual remedy for sea-sickness.I was fortunate enough to obtain a mixture, containing a few drops of chloroform, from our surgeon, and I scarcely felt the effects of the buffeting which the vessel sustained a few days after we were fairly out at sea. The horses were sadly crowded, and many suffered from want of exercise and ventilation, a little nitre being served out to us in order to be mixed with the bran mashes, and their eyes, nostrils, and face being regularly sponged with sea-water, at stable hours, tended to refresh them and to allay inflammation, the most frequent of all disorders to which troopers are subject when confined for any length of time aboard ship. I have made no remarks in reference to my personal feelings on leaving friends and relatives in England, for by this time I had many comrades in the regiment to whom I was as much attached as to anyone else, except my mother. It was owing to no want of affection to the latter that, although I could have had a short “pass” before I left the country, I did not visit her. I knew she would feel it very acutely, and that the little word “good-bye” at parting would have been ringing in my ears during many a weary march.I saw many a heart-rending scene on leaving barracks, along the line of march, with the friends and relations of our men resident in those country parts, and towns we passed through on our way to Plymouth, and on the evening of our embarkation. Therefore I was not sorry that I had not gone through the ordeal, for, like many of my comrades, I might, even in the garb of a soldier, have betrayed the weakness of a man.The anticipation of a severe engagement and the shock of battle itself is nothing to the very trying ordeal of parting with a dear friend, probably for ever. The piercing screams of mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, are usual concomitants of the embarkation of British soldiers on active service. The grasp of a father’s or brother’s hand as they linger on the pier, the steady gaze into the soldier’s eye, the twitching of the mouth and the smothered sob, prevent the articulation of the word “good-bye!” The soldier’s natural pride mostly predominates over tears, and the display of sorrow indulged in by civilians under similar circumstances, but although I did not subject myself to the ordeal of such a leave-taking, I felt deeply for certain of my comrades, who, although as brave soldiers as ever leaped into a saddle or drew a sabre in action, were utterly prostrated with grief after leaving their friends on the beach.This kind of grief proceeds from a sort of sorrow at having been the cause of suffering to those you love dearly and leave behind. For this I have sometimes thought the soldier is to blame, because, in order to gratify a roving disposition, or other causes, he leaves his home, blasting the hopes of a father who may have given him a good education, and looked forward to the time when the boy grown into a man may be a prop to him in his declining years. He tramples upon the deep and true affection of a mother, and throws to the winds the kindly words and devotion of his brothers and sisters. Next to a soldier’s mother, nothing on earth is more dear to him than a sister. Women are invariably fond of soldiers: some like them simply for their gaudy attire, others adore them for their splendid figure, but every woman respects the soldier who risks his life in the service of his country. The last to bid him adieu and the first to welcome him home will be the soldier’s sister, if he is blessed with one. The mother may be dead, the father hastening to the grave, from old age and infirmities, but if there is a sister alive, she will always welcome to the most humble cot her gallant soldier-brother, when, suffering from wounds and broken down in constitution, he returns from the wars. Thousands of men (I am too well aware) live and die regardless of the affections of mother, father, brother, or sister, but the majority of our brave fellows in all ranks of the service retain the affections and associations inculcated during early youth.Superior intelligence in the soldier is as great a recommendation as mere brute strength, and, let the discontented say what they please, the duty of a soldier will never deaden the feelings of a man, who during the most arduous and dangerous campaign can always find time to think.I never was fond of preaching morality to others. Always cheerful and fond of company, I would never debar the soldier from enjoyment, either in or out of barracks. I do not mind confessing that I have had many a “turn up” with policemen, especially when those so-called “guardians of the peace” have attempted to take an unwarrantable liberty with a comrade. But to those “ruffians” in the uniform of soldiers, who constantly figure in our police-courts on the cowardly charge of fighting with their belts and indiscriminately striking civilians in the streets with the frightful weapons, I would say, “You are no soldiers.” Indeed, the whole term of the service of such men is not worth a day’s pay. They are only the refuse of society, who have foisted themselves upon the public service with no other object than that they fancy they can eat the bread of idleness, and be better clothed and lodged than by remaining civilians. In the latter case, they would become a burden to the country through being lodged in some gaol or transported, and in the army they are not only a disgrace to their corps in time of peace, but are always the first to scheme and skulk when any fighting or long marching has to be done.Such characters would laugh at and deride any display of affection, simply because they never knew it. They would ransack a cottage when campaigning, abuse the inmates, break up the furniture through sheer wantonness, and commit all sorts of frightful excesses; but show them an enemy in force, let the trumpet or bugle sound the “advance,” and they are the first to show the “white feather.”Your genuine blackguard, whether he be a “rough” in a London mob, or a soldier in the ranks, is invariably a coward when he is equally matched. All attempts to reform him by discipline, good advice, and kind treatment, will fail in making a bad man good, but fear of death and the “cat-o’-nine-tails” will make him the most abject wretch alive. Lash him to the halberds after a drum-head court-martial on the line of march and he will writhe about like an eel, and scream like a jay before a lash is laid on his back. I am no advocate for flogging in time of peace, but if it were abolished in time of war, the gallows and the gibbet-post would have to be substituted. A long campaign with plenty of fighting is, however, the best purgative to get rid of these characters, because none of them will enlist or volunteer in time of war; those already in the service will desert or contrive to be taken prisoners if they can, and those who remain in the ranks are kept to their duty by the aid of the “cat,” without which I am certain they would neither march nor fight, but always be ready to plunder, and disgrace the British name.To return, however, to our voyage. The men regained their usual spirits in the course of a few hours, and as the three vessels, which had embarked the greater part of our men and horses, sailed out of the Sound on a beautiful evening in the early part of May, 1854, the joke and song, with the merry laugh at some attempts to dance, told plainly that there was more of gladness than sorrow on board our transport. The sailors especially were very pleased with our company: they donned our clothes, examined our arms, patted our horses, and would have jumped on their backs had they been allowed. After we had been at sea a couple of days a stiff breeze sprung up, and many of the men being unable to drink their daily rations of excellent rum, the sailors tossed theirs off instead, with many a wish for their safe return from “a-lickin’ the Roosians.” The weather was, however, on the whole favourable, and the men having quite recovered from sickness, before a week had passed were enabled to drink their own rum and eat their rations with amazing relish; indeed, food is never so enjoyable as after a recovery from sea-sickness.

Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order giveTo sounds confused; behold the threaden sails.Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea,Breasting the lofty surge.Shakespeare.

Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order giveTo sounds confused; behold the threaden sails.Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea,Breasting the lofty surge.Shakespeare.

Beyond the ordinary routine of barrack life, and the every-day duty of a dragoon, nothing very remarkable occurred during my term of service, in addition to what I have related, until the embarkation of my regiment for active service in the Crimea.

The reader will please to observe that I had never before been on a campaign, and the regiment in which I had the honour to serve had never been particularly distinguished in battle for a period of more than twenty years. It had been well understood for years, that whenever a serious war was declared we should be first on the roll of regiments for service. In fact, we had twice been under orders for India—once during the Affghanistan campaign in 1841-2, and again when the Sikh war broke out—but the cavalry already abroad turned out a sufficient force for the purpose.

I may safely remark that three-fourths of the soldiers in the British army would sooner serve on a campaign than endure the monotony of life in a barrack. The former kind of service is just the sort of life for which all really good men join the army. There are many very respectable, educated men serving in the ranks of our dragoon regiments that would cheerfully endure the hardships of a campaign and the privations of a camp life, surrounded by danger, disease, cold, hunger, and even death, in preference to years of drudgery and comparative inactivity in barracks.

It is wonderful to see with what rapidity the ranks of a cavalry regiment proceeding on active service are augmented from other corps not under orders to serve. As may be supposed, when a regiment is told off for service abroad, there are numbers who are physically incapable of enduring the change of climate, and others whose term of service having nearly expired, with other considerations, render it advisable for commanding officers to reject them; consequently, their places have to be filled up by a system of volunteering from other regiments.

On such occasions, orders are sent to the commanding officers of those corps remaining at home to supply a certain number of good men. These orders are read out to the soldiers when they assemble for roll-call at evening stable hour. The regiment, with the locality to which it is proceeding, and the nature of the service in which it is expected to be engaged, together with the number of men required, is distinctly specified; after which, it is stated that “those men willing to serve will step forward.” Instantly the words are delivered there is a rush to the front of many more than is required. In my opinion, nothing can be more noble: there stand the gallant fellows ready to sacrifice a life of comparative ease for hardships, danger, and, probably, death in a foreign land.

I have frequently noticed that the men so volunteering are chiefly the most intelligent and best soldiers in the regiment—men who, having enlisted as soldiers, wish to fulfil the purpose for which they joined the army, and not the idle “skulks” who enlist, thinking that a soldier’s life in barracks is easier than the occupation in which they are engaged as civilians.

By this system of volunteering, the best men and willing hearts have ever been secured for the desperate struggles in which they have from time, to time been engaged. The amount of enthusiasm which pervades the army and the greater part of the population on the declaration of war, is a striking instance of the bravery of the British race. The deserving soldier—always well treated by civilians in England, Ireland, and Scotland in time of peace—is absolutely idolised when proceeding on or returning from a campaign. I perfectly remember the—I might almost say—triumphant march of a portion of our regiment from barracks for many days, on our way for embarkation at Plymouth. The country people cheered us, shook hands, clung to our stirrups, gave us tobacco, and, at times, too much drink. The ladies—high, low, and middle-class—waved their handkerchiefs, threw us kisses, “wished they were going with us,” and many made us handsome presents of money, rings, etc. We were all in good health and spirits, and our horses fresh, sound, and full of spirits.

In this order we entered Plymouth, and were rapidly embarked aboard three transports, and sailed the evening of the day we arrived, amidst many a round of hearty cheers from the thousands of people who crowded on the beach.

Nothing very extraordinary occurred during the voyage to Varna, except that many of our men were dreadfully sea-sick, the nature of our duty on board rendering it impossible for us to lie down, which is the only effectual remedy for sea-sickness.

I was fortunate enough to obtain a mixture, containing a few drops of chloroform, from our surgeon, and I scarcely felt the effects of the buffeting which the vessel sustained a few days after we were fairly out at sea. The horses were sadly crowded, and many suffered from want of exercise and ventilation, a little nitre being served out to us in order to be mixed with the bran mashes, and their eyes, nostrils, and face being regularly sponged with sea-water, at stable hours, tended to refresh them and to allay inflammation, the most frequent of all disorders to which troopers are subject when confined for any length of time aboard ship. I have made no remarks in reference to my personal feelings on leaving friends and relatives in England, for by this time I had many comrades in the regiment to whom I was as much attached as to anyone else, except my mother. It was owing to no want of affection to the latter that, although I could have had a short “pass” before I left the country, I did not visit her. I knew she would feel it very acutely, and that the little word “good-bye” at parting would have been ringing in my ears during many a weary march.

I saw many a heart-rending scene on leaving barracks, along the line of march, with the friends and relations of our men resident in those country parts, and towns we passed through on our way to Plymouth, and on the evening of our embarkation. Therefore I was not sorry that I had not gone through the ordeal, for, like many of my comrades, I might, even in the garb of a soldier, have betrayed the weakness of a man.

The anticipation of a severe engagement and the shock of battle itself is nothing to the very trying ordeal of parting with a dear friend, probably for ever. The piercing screams of mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives, are usual concomitants of the embarkation of British soldiers on active service. The grasp of a father’s or brother’s hand as they linger on the pier, the steady gaze into the soldier’s eye, the twitching of the mouth and the smothered sob, prevent the articulation of the word “good-bye!” The soldier’s natural pride mostly predominates over tears, and the display of sorrow indulged in by civilians under similar circumstances, but although I did not subject myself to the ordeal of such a leave-taking, I felt deeply for certain of my comrades, who, although as brave soldiers as ever leaped into a saddle or drew a sabre in action, were utterly prostrated with grief after leaving their friends on the beach.

This kind of grief proceeds from a sort of sorrow at having been the cause of suffering to those you love dearly and leave behind. For this I have sometimes thought the soldier is to blame, because, in order to gratify a roving disposition, or other causes, he leaves his home, blasting the hopes of a father who may have given him a good education, and looked forward to the time when the boy grown into a man may be a prop to him in his declining years. He tramples upon the deep and true affection of a mother, and throws to the winds the kindly words and devotion of his brothers and sisters. Next to a soldier’s mother, nothing on earth is more dear to him than a sister. Women are invariably fond of soldiers: some like them simply for their gaudy attire, others adore them for their splendid figure, but every woman respects the soldier who risks his life in the service of his country. The last to bid him adieu and the first to welcome him home will be the soldier’s sister, if he is blessed with one. The mother may be dead, the father hastening to the grave, from old age and infirmities, but if there is a sister alive, she will always welcome to the most humble cot her gallant soldier-brother, when, suffering from wounds and broken down in constitution, he returns from the wars. Thousands of men (I am too well aware) live and die regardless of the affections of mother, father, brother, or sister, but the majority of our brave fellows in all ranks of the service retain the affections and associations inculcated during early youth.

Superior intelligence in the soldier is as great a recommendation as mere brute strength, and, let the discontented say what they please, the duty of a soldier will never deaden the feelings of a man, who during the most arduous and dangerous campaign can always find time to think.

I never was fond of preaching morality to others. Always cheerful and fond of company, I would never debar the soldier from enjoyment, either in or out of barracks. I do not mind confessing that I have had many a “turn up” with policemen, especially when those so-called “guardians of the peace” have attempted to take an unwarrantable liberty with a comrade. But to those “ruffians” in the uniform of soldiers, who constantly figure in our police-courts on the cowardly charge of fighting with their belts and indiscriminately striking civilians in the streets with the frightful weapons, I would say, “You are no soldiers.” Indeed, the whole term of the service of such men is not worth a day’s pay. They are only the refuse of society, who have foisted themselves upon the public service with no other object than that they fancy they can eat the bread of idleness, and be better clothed and lodged than by remaining civilians. In the latter case, they would become a burden to the country through being lodged in some gaol or transported, and in the army they are not only a disgrace to their corps in time of peace, but are always the first to scheme and skulk when any fighting or long marching has to be done.

Such characters would laugh at and deride any display of affection, simply because they never knew it. They would ransack a cottage when campaigning, abuse the inmates, break up the furniture through sheer wantonness, and commit all sorts of frightful excesses; but show them an enemy in force, let the trumpet or bugle sound the “advance,” and they are the first to show the “white feather.”

Your genuine blackguard, whether he be a “rough” in a London mob, or a soldier in the ranks, is invariably a coward when he is equally matched. All attempts to reform him by discipline, good advice, and kind treatment, will fail in making a bad man good, but fear of death and the “cat-o’-nine-tails” will make him the most abject wretch alive. Lash him to the halberds after a drum-head court-martial on the line of march and he will writhe about like an eel, and scream like a jay before a lash is laid on his back. I am no advocate for flogging in time of peace, but if it were abolished in time of war, the gallows and the gibbet-post would have to be substituted. A long campaign with plenty of fighting is, however, the best purgative to get rid of these characters, because none of them will enlist or volunteer in time of war; those already in the service will desert or contrive to be taken prisoners if they can, and those who remain in the ranks are kept to their duty by the aid of the “cat,” without which I am certain they would neither march nor fight, but always be ready to plunder, and disgrace the British name.

To return, however, to our voyage. The men regained their usual spirits in the course of a few hours, and as the three vessels, which had embarked the greater part of our men and horses, sailed out of the Sound on a beautiful evening in the early part of May, 1854, the joke and song, with the merry laugh at some attempts to dance, told plainly that there was more of gladness than sorrow on board our transport. The sailors especially were very pleased with our company: they donned our clothes, examined our arms, patted our horses, and would have jumped on their backs had they been allowed. After we had been at sea a couple of days a stiff breeze sprung up, and many of the men being unable to drink their daily rations of excellent rum, the sailors tossed theirs off instead, with many a wish for their safe return from “a-lickin’ the Roosians.” The weather was, however, on the whole favourable, and the men having quite recovered from sickness, before a week had passed were enabled to drink their own rum and eat their rations with amazing relish; indeed, food is never so enjoyable as after a recovery from sea-sickness.

Chapter Twenty Six.Now all the youth of England are on fire,And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thoughtReigns solely in the breast of every man.Shakespeare.About sixteen days after leaving Plymouth, the vessel I sailed in reached Scutari, where we found one of the transports had arrived nearly a day before us; the other had not come in, but arrived in about twelve hours after us. Many regiments of infantry had a couple of months prior to our arrival landed at Malta, from whence they had sailed for Gallipoli, where they met the first instalment of our allies—the French and the Turks.The change of climate had already sown the seeds of disease among the infantry, and many who arrived at Gallipoli from Malta got no farther and never came back. The number of our infantry landed at Gallipoli was considerable, consisting of the 93rd, 41st, 77th, 88th, 33rd, 28th, 44th, and 60th regiments, and a portion of the rifle brigade. In addition to the above, about 20,000 French and a large Turkish force had been encamped in the neighbourhood. The commander-in-chief, Lord Raglan, with a portion of his staff, arrived at Gallipoli early in May, and the Duke of Cambridge was only a few days behind him. General Sir George Brown and a numerous staff came out with the first expedition, and the French commander-in-chief, Marshal St. Arnaud, General Canrobert, Prince Napoleon, etc, also sailed, viâ Gallipoli, where they reviewed and manoeuvred the French troops prior to their moving to Scutari, where I first saw them, and it was interesting to witness the curiosity with which some of our men eyed the French infantry, particularly the Zouaves. At first sight the Zouave strikes you as being a native of India, being a deep copper colour, with a flowing beard and huge moustachios. Many suppose them to be Arabs, but the majority are of pure French descent, and I more than suspect that they dye their skin with some liquid to darken it, and give them a more picturesque appearance. Their uniform is loose and easy, forming a striking contrast to the buttoned-up straight-jacket style with which our soldiers are encased and encumbered. The height of these Zouaves runs from five feet four inches to five feet seven inches, and they are proportionately stout and well made, with wiry wearing limbs, and a quickness in their eye and every movement that many of our crack infantry regiments would do well to emulate. They wear a red cap and tassel, in addition to which they have several folds of cloth round their head, altogether forming a sort of turban. Their jackets are blue with scarlet facings; they have also a scarlet waistcoat and a sash to fold several times round the waist. They wear no stocks, and their necks are quite bare; their trousers are red and made very wide, reaching only as far as the knees, where they are met by a sort of yellow gaiter, reaching to the shoes. They regarded a party of ours with as much interest as some of our fellows did them, being particularly struck with the weight of our swords and the pure whiteness of our belts. One of our men remarked, while eyeing over a little consequential fellow (who seemed particularly busy, thrusting his hands into our sabretaches, ostensibly to examine them, but probably for plunder), that he was “so dried up and so hard-fleshed, that no ball could ever enter into his body, no shell could tear him to pieces, and the most experienced carver at a cannibal banquet would have great difficulty in cutting him up.” The worst part of these meetings with the French soldiers was, that, notwithstanding the difficulty each party experienced in making themselves understood, they generally managed to get drunk together, and it was certainly laughable to hear a group of a score or more, about equal numbers of French and English, Scotch and Irish, singing together, the former in different language, and the latter in different accents—a perfect medley and no mistake—with no more tune than a pig tied to a gate. Ours would be singing, or rather shouting, “God Save the Queen,” and “Red, White, and Blue,” while the French were screeching out the “Marseillaise.”Numerous vessels, chiefly transports, were moored off Scutari when we arrived, all waiting to embark the forces for Varna, a stage nearer to the Crimea. Early in June the encampment at Scutari broke up and proceeded on board the transports, which formed a very considerable fleet. We sailed in the most beautiful weather up the Bosphorus and over the Black Sea, where a dense fog enveloped every vessel, and we had to proceed very cautiously until we sighted the Bay of Varna, where we arrived the day after our embarkation from Scutari.The Light Division, Rifle Brigade, and several other infantry regiments were disembarked before the cavalry and artillery, during which we had a fine view of the town and neighbourhood, and the busy scene on the jetty, from the deck of our vessel. Cheer after cheer rent the air as each regiment recognised the number of the corps by the colours of their facings. Varna is surrounded by a high wall, behind which are a range of steep hills. These hills were studded here and there with groups of country people; and many of these also crowded on the beach to witness our landing and offer food for sale, principally fowls, which were good and very cheap. A good fowl could be had for eighteen-pence, and a turkey for half-a-crown.As each regiment landed, they formed on the jetty, and marched off to the merry strains of their band on their way to camp, the men of other regiments cheering them as long as they remained in sight. The encampment was at Aladyn, about a mile and a half from Varna, on a wide, open plain, and only intended as a temporary resting-place before marching to Devna, twenty miles farther up the country.When most of the infantry had been landed, and the jetty was clear, our disembarkation commenced, after which we marched to Aladyn, and were loudly cheered and played to our lines by the gallant Light Division, composed of the 19th, 77th, 23rd Fusiliers, 7th Fusiliers, 33rd (Duke of Wellington’s), and the 88th Connaught Rangers.After remaining at Aladyn a few days, we struck our tents and marched out of the encampment for Devna, being accompanied by the Light Division, five guns, and a part of the 17th Lancers. Leaving the Light Division to encamp at a place called Kojuck, about ten miles from Varna, we continued our march through a most beautiful tract of country, but almost destitute of inhabitants, the wild flowers covering the face of the land as far as the eye could reach. Here and there were droves of sheep of a dark-brown colour, and no bigger than a thorough-bred French poodle. We also saw numerous herds of cattle—queer little creatures, about the size of a good Leicestershire ram—but we afterwards found them not bad eating, and not too dear. When the country people found they had nothing to fear, and that we paid them freely for everything they brought, they came into camp every morning, but were never accompanied by women.We had left two troops of our regiment at Aladyn, but they afterwards came into head-quarters, having lost four men from disease through drinking the bad water, for the ale and porter we had heard so much about had not arrived, or, having arrived, was perhaps being consumed by the staff of the imbecile commissariat. The wine was sour, and gave us the diarrhoea; and the spirits, though cheap enough, were so fiery and villainous that a glass or two drove us headlong into trouble.

Now all the youth of England are on fire,And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thoughtReigns solely in the breast of every man.Shakespeare.

Now all the youth of England are on fire,And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thoughtReigns solely in the breast of every man.Shakespeare.

About sixteen days after leaving Plymouth, the vessel I sailed in reached Scutari, where we found one of the transports had arrived nearly a day before us; the other had not come in, but arrived in about twelve hours after us. Many regiments of infantry had a couple of months prior to our arrival landed at Malta, from whence they had sailed for Gallipoli, where they met the first instalment of our allies—the French and the Turks.

The change of climate had already sown the seeds of disease among the infantry, and many who arrived at Gallipoli from Malta got no farther and never came back. The number of our infantry landed at Gallipoli was considerable, consisting of the 93rd, 41st, 77th, 88th, 33rd, 28th, 44th, and 60th regiments, and a portion of the rifle brigade. In addition to the above, about 20,000 French and a large Turkish force had been encamped in the neighbourhood. The commander-in-chief, Lord Raglan, with a portion of his staff, arrived at Gallipoli early in May, and the Duke of Cambridge was only a few days behind him. General Sir George Brown and a numerous staff came out with the first expedition, and the French commander-in-chief, Marshal St. Arnaud, General Canrobert, Prince Napoleon, etc, also sailed, viâ Gallipoli, where they reviewed and manoeuvred the French troops prior to their moving to Scutari, where I first saw them, and it was interesting to witness the curiosity with which some of our men eyed the French infantry, particularly the Zouaves. At first sight the Zouave strikes you as being a native of India, being a deep copper colour, with a flowing beard and huge moustachios. Many suppose them to be Arabs, but the majority are of pure French descent, and I more than suspect that they dye their skin with some liquid to darken it, and give them a more picturesque appearance. Their uniform is loose and easy, forming a striking contrast to the buttoned-up straight-jacket style with which our soldiers are encased and encumbered. The height of these Zouaves runs from five feet four inches to five feet seven inches, and they are proportionately stout and well made, with wiry wearing limbs, and a quickness in their eye and every movement that many of our crack infantry regiments would do well to emulate. They wear a red cap and tassel, in addition to which they have several folds of cloth round their head, altogether forming a sort of turban. Their jackets are blue with scarlet facings; they have also a scarlet waistcoat and a sash to fold several times round the waist. They wear no stocks, and their necks are quite bare; their trousers are red and made very wide, reaching only as far as the knees, where they are met by a sort of yellow gaiter, reaching to the shoes. They regarded a party of ours with as much interest as some of our fellows did them, being particularly struck with the weight of our swords and the pure whiteness of our belts. One of our men remarked, while eyeing over a little consequential fellow (who seemed particularly busy, thrusting his hands into our sabretaches, ostensibly to examine them, but probably for plunder), that he was “so dried up and so hard-fleshed, that no ball could ever enter into his body, no shell could tear him to pieces, and the most experienced carver at a cannibal banquet would have great difficulty in cutting him up.” The worst part of these meetings with the French soldiers was, that, notwithstanding the difficulty each party experienced in making themselves understood, they generally managed to get drunk together, and it was certainly laughable to hear a group of a score or more, about equal numbers of French and English, Scotch and Irish, singing together, the former in different language, and the latter in different accents—a perfect medley and no mistake—with no more tune than a pig tied to a gate. Ours would be singing, or rather shouting, “God Save the Queen,” and “Red, White, and Blue,” while the French were screeching out the “Marseillaise.”

Numerous vessels, chiefly transports, were moored off Scutari when we arrived, all waiting to embark the forces for Varna, a stage nearer to the Crimea. Early in June the encampment at Scutari broke up and proceeded on board the transports, which formed a very considerable fleet. We sailed in the most beautiful weather up the Bosphorus and over the Black Sea, where a dense fog enveloped every vessel, and we had to proceed very cautiously until we sighted the Bay of Varna, where we arrived the day after our embarkation from Scutari.

The Light Division, Rifle Brigade, and several other infantry regiments were disembarked before the cavalry and artillery, during which we had a fine view of the town and neighbourhood, and the busy scene on the jetty, from the deck of our vessel. Cheer after cheer rent the air as each regiment recognised the number of the corps by the colours of their facings. Varna is surrounded by a high wall, behind which are a range of steep hills. These hills were studded here and there with groups of country people; and many of these also crowded on the beach to witness our landing and offer food for sale, principally fowls, which were good and very cheap. A good fowl could be had for eighteen-pence, and a turkey for half-a-crown.

As each regiment landed, they formed on the jetty, and marched off to the merry strains of their band on their way to camp, the men of other regiments cheering them as long as they remained in sight. The encampment was at Aladyn, about a mile and a half from Varna, on a wide, open plain, and only intended as a temporary resting-place before marching to Devna, twenty miles farther up the country.

When most of the infantry had been landed, and the jetty was clear, our disembarkation commenced, after which we marched to Aladyn, and were loudly cheered and played to our lines by the gallant Light Division, composed of the 19th, 77th, 23rd Fusiliers, 7th Fusiliers, 33rd (Duke of Wellington’s), and the 88th Connaught Rangers.

After remaining at Aladyn a few days, we struck our tents and marched out of the encampment for Devna, being accompanied by the Light Division, five guns, and a part of the 17th Lancers. Leaving the Light Division to encamp at a place called Kojuck, about ten miles from Varna, we continued our march through a most beautiful tract of country, but almost destitute of inhabitants, the wild flowers covering the face of the land as far as the eye could reach. Here and there were droves of sheep of a dark-brown colour, and no bigger than a thorough-bred French poodle. We also saw numerous herds of cattle—queer little creatures, about the size of a good Leicestershire ram—but we afterwards found them not bad eating, and not too dear. When the country people found they had nothing to fear, and that we paid them freely for everything they brought, they came into camp every morning, but were never accompanied by women.

We had left two troops of our regiment at Aladyn, but they afterwards came into head-quarters, having lost four men from disease through drinking the bad water, for the ale and porter we had heard so much about had not arrived, or, having arrived, was perhaps being consumed by the staff of the imbecile commissariat. The wine was sour, and gave us the diarrhoea; and the spirits, though cheap enough, were so fiery and villainous that a glass or two drove us headlong into trouble.

Chapter Twenty Seven.Follow, follow!Grapple your minds to steerage of this navy,And leave your England as dead midnight still,Guarded with grandsires, babes, and old women,Either past or not arrived at pith and puissance;For who is he whose chin is but encircled,With one appearing hair, that will not followThese cull’d and choice drum cavaliers?Shakespeare.While the detachment in which I had honour to serve was in camp at Aladyn, the 5th Dragoon Guards, familiarly called the “Green Horse,” from the colour of their facings (cuffs and collars) being of green cloth, arrived at Varna, having come direct from Ireland in theHimalaya. The heavy brass helmets worn by all the Heavy Dragoon regiments were so distressing to the men, that white calico covers were issued in order to counteract the effects of the blazing sun, for which the men were deeply thankful. Some companies of the Grenadiers arrived about the same time, and so much dissatisfaction prevailed among the men in reference to the choking stock, that an order was issued for them to march without wearing them. As regards my own regiment no such order was given, as we only wear stocks when on duty even in barracks, and not having to walk and carry our own kit, like even the most crack regiments of infantry, we were content and happy enough to ride through a beautiful tract of country from our encampment at Aladyn to Devna, a little village chiefly inhabited by small farmers, who, failing to keep their pigs and turkeys without the boundary of the camp, as a natural consequence they lost many of them, and, as another natural consequence, they were constantly complaining that the soldiersstolethem. The turkeys being small, and the pigs queer little creatures, all at large, and far away from the village, feeding upon grass and acorns in such places, and under such circumstances, as naturally led our men to suppose they were running wild, and that they had as much right to them as any one else, they hunted them as much for the fun of catching as for that of eating them.A pig is a difficult animal to catch in an open place, and these pigs being in all but a wild state, run very fast—much faster than any I ever saw in my life. The turkeys were brought to grass with short sticks, but they were scarcely worth the trouble, as there was very little meat on their bones worth the trouble of picking off, when killed in this state before having been taken up to fatten. We had a man from the neighbourhood of Chowbent, in Lancashire, who, it was said, once, when coming off picket duty, ate one of these Bulgarian turkeys, bones, feathers, and all; but of course I cannot vouch for its truth. Of one thing I am, however, quite certain—that soldiers, when campaigning, can eat nearly twice as much victuals as is allowed them in barracks, and therefore it need not be wondered that a turkey, a goose, fowl, or pretty little grunter should mysteriously disappear at times when a regiment is stationed so near to farm villages.The weather during the middle of the day was intensely hot while we lay at Devna; but the nights being cold, we made fires of wood, which was easily obtainable, as many of the inhabitants of cabins isolated from the village, being frightened at our approach, went away with their families, and left their stores behind them, and it was better for us to burn them than leave them for the benefit of the enemy.Many men were punished for appropriating this deserted property, especially in the victualling line; but when it is considered that we were frequently short of food, the meat being wretchedly fed, no beer or porter could be got, and not a sight of a potato or a bit of vegetable was seen in camp for weeks, the men could not be blamed for helping themselves to those necessaries which the imbecility of our Government had failed to supply them with. We could get tobacco and tea, but our meat was frequently eaten without the essential flavour of salt.About the middle of June a detachment of the 6th “Green Horse” and a troop of the 13th Light Dragoons joined us at Devna. They had suffered much from the sun during their march, and scarcely one of them had a bit of skin left on his lips. The hot weather was, however, frequently tempered by heavy showers of rain, and the thunder-storms were awfully grand, and sufficient to terrify our outlying pickets on the hills, in the dead of the night; but the men braved it out, returning to camp drenched to the skin, and almost hungry enough to eat an iron bedstead.In the early part of July we were joined by the Light Division (infantry), and the remainder of the cavalry regiments, consisting of detachments of the 8th and 11th Hussars, the 13th Light Dragoons, and the 1st and remainder of the 5th Dragoon Guards. They gave us an awful account of the march, the roads, or rather track, being sandy; every vestige of the vegetation with which it was covered at the time we marched over it from Varna was destroyed by the immense traffic of infantry, cavalry, guns, ammunition waggons, and arabas containing stores and baggage. It was, therefore, as cheerless and uncomfortable as a cavalry march would be across the deserts of Arabia, and the men suffered much inconvenience and pain from the particles of fine sand getting into their eyes, which was so intense that they instinctively rubbed them with their hands, which augmented their agony, and the scorching rays of the sun completed their misery. There was, however, plenty of pure water in the lake not far distant from the camp, and a thorough washing alleviated their sufferings, and kept them to their duty.A few days after the arrival of these additional troops at Devna, Omar Pasha, the Turkish Commander-in-Chief, arrived on his way from Silistria, the Russians having evacuated their position in front of that fortress, and set the garrison at liberty. He was on his way to Varna, attended by a brilliant escort of English and Turkish officers. The troops were turned out to present arms. Only a few squadrons of cavalry, however, took part in the salute; these were from the 8th and 11th Hussars and the 17th Lancers, the Heavy and Light Dragoons, with the artillery, having gone down to the lake in watering order.I was left in camp with my regiment, and, of course, had a good opportunity of seeing this Turkish general for the first time. He rode a grey entire Arab, and several remarkably handsome horses of the same class, but different colours, were led by servants in rear of the escort. He was a little weather-beaten man, with grey hair and whiskers, and wore a common fez cap, and a plain blue coat with but little lace trimming upon it. He rode with such a remarkably straight leg, that he sat his horse in much the same style as a pair of compasses would appear when crossed over a rail. After the Light Division had been inspected, and our troops had dashed through a few difficult manoeuvres at a brisk trot, canter, and gallop, he opened his eyes, threw up his right arm, appearing highly delighted and astonished. He afterwards reviewed the Turkish troops, and then cantered off in the direction of Varna.In the course of a few days he returned from Varna on his way to Shumla, and again the troops were paraded, and went through some movements for his inspection; after which he vanished with Lord Raglan, Sir George Brown, the Duke of Cambridge, General Yorke Scarlett, etc, in the direction of the General’s quarters.Thousands of the Pasha’s troops—the Bashi-Bazouks—encamped themselves in the neighbourhood of our quarters, on their way to Varna, and many a good hiding they got from our men, who frequently caught them stealing our rations; and the Bulgarian villagers had a harassing time of it during the few days they remained around the camp at Devna and Aladyn.One evening, while returning from the lake, where my troop had been to water, we met about a score of these ruffians, who had been prowling about our tents while engaged with our horses. The instant they saw us they turned to the left and scampered off; but they were immediately surrounded by our horses; a few men dismounted and searched them. They had previously thrown away a valise belonging to our regiment; boots, socks, flannels, shirts, and many other things were found upon them. A man of the 17th Lancers, to whom a pair of excellent boots belonged, picked up one of the scamps upon whom they were found, and threw him into the lake, from whence he crawled after a rare ducking; the remainder were rather roughly handled, and sent about their business. These ruffians were soon afterwards sent away to be drilled into something like soldiers under General Beatson at Shumla.During our stay at Devna several murders were committed either by the natives of the district or the Bashi-Bazouks, of whom many were left behind by General Beatson; and these found refuge on the hills, from whence they prowled forth at night like wild beasts, seeking what they might devour, and steal or destroy. Many a black crime, which our officers fathered upon the natives, was without a doubt the work of the Bashi-Bazouks.About this period Lord Cardigan marched with detachments from the 8th and 11th Hussars on a reconnoitring expedition along the desolate track of country by the banks of the Danube towards Silistria; they took no tents, and only a few days’ provisions with them, and therefore had to sleep in the open air, with their horses picketed at their feet, to feed upon such scanty herbage as the ground allowed. After being away about ten days, they came in sight of the Russian field column, said to be under General Luders, who afterwards commanded the army in the field after we landed in the Crimea.Having attained the object of this expedition, during which both his lordship and his detachments might have been surrounded and cut to pieces at any time, so ignorant were our leaders at this period of the position and whereabouts of the Russian army, Lord Cardigan retired by forced marches to Devna, and nearly every one of the horses had to be long afterwards rested from illness and sore backs. But the men were for the most part well and hearty, and Lord Cardigan experienced but little inconvenience, although it was said he suffered much from the effects of the damp ground some months afterwards in the Crimea.We had some capital fun while lying at Devna: the officers, on horseback, would hunt the great, lurching, hungry-looking dogs, that many of the men would insist were hyenas and jackals, so wild and savage did they look. When disturbed and started at a dusting pace, the young officers would ride after—them as if for dear life, cracking their whips or flourishing a sword close to their very tails, and then would come, in motley crowd, soldiers in undress, looking as excited as if in front of the enemy, and bringing up the rear would be all the rag, tag, and bob-tail of the camp. The brute invariably ran towards the hills, and if he gained them unscathed he was safe, for both horses and men would be blown ere they could follow up the slopes. Some of these dogs are very savage, and if brought to bay in a corner would dash at your throat in an instant; but as few of us ever had sword beyond our reach, we generally made short work of them if caught red-handed with probably a piece of meat in their mouths, when carelessly left unguarded, prior to its being cooked for the dinners of a dozen men.Towards the latter end of July the cholera made its unwelcome appearance in our camp, and many men, both cavalry, infantry, and artillery, died after a few hours’ illness in extreme agony. Every regiment encamped on the track of country extending for about twenty miles from Devna to Varna lost more or less men from this dreadful scourge; but the troops in and around the latter place suffered most, as many of our men were removed to Monastir, a healthier place farther up on the hills than Devna. The disease was said to be engendered at Varna among the Turks and Bashi-Bazouks, who are horribly filthy, and of not much real service as fighting-men on a battle-field.About this time we were pleased to hear the news that the 4th Light Dragoons had arrived to join our brigade, henceforth being our brethren in arms; they were encamped with the 6th by the sea-shore, but both regiments lost several men from cholera, and each (especially the gallant 4th) were destined to lose the greater part of their men by the sword, as will afterwards be related. Many of the best, the bravest, and the most light-hearted of my own regiment died of the fearful pestilence at Devna.At the latter end of August we got the welcome order to march from Devna and Monastir to Varna, with an assurance that we should soon be embarked for the Crimea, and at least be allowed to fight for our lives with a more chivalrous, if not a less relentless, enemy than the cholera. The 5th “Green Horse” lost so many men, that the remainder were for a time (until augmented by drafts from home) attached to the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards.

Follow, follow!Grapple your minds to steerage of this navy,And leave your England as dead midnight still,Guarded with grandsires, babes, and old women,Either past or not arrived at pith and puissance;For who is he whose chin is but encircled,With one appearing hair, that will not followThese cull’d and choice drum cavaliers?Shakespeare.

Follow, follow!Grapple your minds to steerage of this navy,And leave your England as dead midnight still,Guarded with grandsires, babes, and old women,Either past or not arrived at pith and puissance;For who is he whose chin is but encircled,With one appearing hair, that will not followThese cull’d and choice drum cavaliers?Shakespeare.

While the detachment in which I had honour to serve was in camp at Aladyn, the 5th Dragoon Guards, familiarly called the “Green Horse,” from the colour of their facings (cuffs and collars) being of green cloth, arrived at Varna, having come direct from Ireland in theHimalaya. The heavy brass helmets worn by all the Heavy Dragoon regiments were so distressing to the men, that white calico covers were issued in order to counteract the effects of the blazing sun, for which the men were deeply thankful. Some companies of the Grenadiers arrived about the same time, and so much dissatisfaction prevailed among the men in reference to the choking stock, that an order was issued for them to march without wearing them. As regards my own regiment no such order was given, as we only wear stocks when on duty even in barracks, and not having to walk and carry our own kit, like even the most crack regiments of infantry, we were content and happy enough to ride through a beautiful tract of country from our encampment at Aladyn to Devna, a little village chiefly inhabited by small farmers, who, failing to keep their pigs and turkeys without the boundary of the camp, as a natural consequence they lost many of them, and, as another natural consequence, they were constantly complaining that the soldiersstolethem. The turkeys being small, and the pigs queer little creatures, all at large, and far away from the village, feeding upon grass and acorns in such places, and under such circumstances, as naturally led our men to suppose they were running wild, and that they had as much right to them as any one else, they hunted them as much for the fun of catching as for that of eating them.

A pig is a difficult animal to catch in an open place, and these pigs being in all but a wild state, run very fast—much faster than any I ever saw in my life. The turkeys were brought to grass with short sticks, but they were scarcely worth the trouble, as there was very little meat on their bones worth the trouble of picking off, when killed in this state before having been taken up to fatten. We had a man from the neighbourhood of Chowbent, in Lancashire, who, it was said, once, when coming off picket duty, ate one of these Bulgarian turkeys, bones, feathers, and all; but of course I cannot vouch for its truth. Of one thing I am, however, quite certain—that soldiers, when campaigning, can eat nearly twice as much victuals as is allowed them in barracks, and therefore it need not be wondered that a turkey, a goose, fowl, or pretty little grunter should mysteriously disappear at times when a regiment is stationed so near to farm villages.

The weather during the middle of the day was intensely hot while we lay at Devna; but the nights being cold, we made fires of wood, which was easily obtainable, as many of the inhabitants of cabins isolated from the village, being frightened at our approach, went away with their families, and left their stores behind them, and it was better for us to burn them than leave them for the benefit of the enemy.

Many men were punished for appropriating this deserted property, especially in the victualling line; but when it is considered that we were frequently short of food, the meat being wretchedly fed, no beer or porter could be got, and not a sight of a potato or a bit of vegetable was seen in camp for weeks, the men could not be blamed for helping themselves to those necessaries which the imbecility of our Government had failed to supply them with. We could get tobacco and tea, but our meat was frequently eaten without the essential flavour of salt.

About the middle of June a detachment of the 6th “Green Horse” and a troop of the 13th Light Dragoons joined us at Devna. They had suffered much from the sun during their march, and scarcely one of them had a bit of skin left on his lips. The hot weather was, however, frequently tempered by heavy showers of rain, and the thunder-storms were awfully grand, and sufficient to terrify our outlying pickets on the hills, in the dead of the night; but the men braved it out, returning to camp drenched to the skin, and almost hungry enough to eat an iron bedstead.

In the early part of July we were joined by the Light Division (infantry), and the remainder of the cavalry regiments, consisting of detachments of the 8th and 11th Hussars, the 13th Light Dragoons, and the 1st and remainder of the 5th Dragoon Guards. They gave us an awful account of the march, the roads, or rather track, being sandy; every vestige of the vegetation with which it was covered at the time we marched over it from Varna was destroyed by the immense traffic of infantry, cavalry, guns, ammunition waggons, and arabas containing stores and baggage. It was, therefore, as cheerless and uncomfortable as a cavalry march would be across the deserts of Arabia, and the men suffered much inconvenience and pain from the particles of fine sand getting into their eyes, which was so intense that they instinctively rubbed them with their hands, which augmented their agony, and the scorching rays of the sun completed their misery. There was, however, plenty of pure water in the lake not far distant from the camp, and a thorough washing alleviated their sufferings, and kept them to their duty.

A few days after the arrival of these additional troops at Devna, Omar Pasha, the Turkish Commander-in-Chief, arrived on his way from Silistria, the Russians having evacuated their position in front of that fortress, and set the garrison at liberty. He was on his way to Varna, attended by a brilliant escort of English and Turkish officers. The troops were turned out to present arms. Only a few squadrons of cavalry, however, took part in the salute; these were from the 8th and 11th Hussars and the 17th Lancers, the Heavy and Light Dragoons, with the artillery, having gone down to the lake in watering order.

I was left in camp with my regiment, and, of course, had a good opportunity of seeing this Turkish general for the first time. He rode a grey entire Arab, and several remarkably handsome horses of the same class, but different colours, were led by servants in rear of the escort. He was a little weather-beaten man, with grey hair and whiskers, and wore a common fez cap, and a plain blue coat with but little lace trimming upon it. He rode with such a remarkably straight leg, that he sat his horse in much the same style as a pair of compasses would appear when crossed over a rail. After the Light Division had been inspected, and our troops had dashed through a few difficult manoeuvres at a brisk trot, canter, and gallop, he opened his eyes, threw up his right arm, appearing highly delighted and astonished. He afterwards reviewed the Turkish troops, and then cantered off in the direction of Varna.

In the course of a few days he returned from Varna on his way to Shumla, and again the troops were paraded, and went through some movements for his inspection; after which he vanished with Lord Raglan, Sir George Brown, the Duke of Cambridge, General Yorke Scarlett, etc, in the direction of the General’s quarters.

Thousands of the Pasha’s troops—the Bashi-Bazouks—encamped themselves in the neighbourhood of our quarters, on their way to Varna, and many a good hiding they got from our men, who frequently caught them stealing our rations; and the Bulgarian villagers had a harassing time of it during the few days they remained around the camp at Devna and Aladyn.

One evening, while returning from the lake, where my troop had been to water, we met about a score of these ruffians, who had been prowling about our tents while engaged with our horses. The instant they saw us they turned to the left and scampered off; but they were immediately surrounded by our horses; a few men dismounted and searched them. They had previously thrown away a valise belonging to our regiment; boots, socks, flannels, shirts, and many other things were found upon them. A man of the 17th Lancers, to whom a pair of excellent boots belonged, picked up one of the scamps upon whom they were found, and threw him into the lake, from whence he crawled after a rare ducking; the remainder were rather roughly handled, and sent about their business. These ruffians were soon afterwards sent away to be drilled into something like soldiers under General Beatson at Shumla.

During our stay at Devna several murders were committed either by the natives of the district or the Bashi-Bazouks, of whom many were left behind by General Beatson; and these found refuge on the hills, from whence they prowled forth at night like wild beasts, seeking what they might devour, and steal or destroy. Many a black crime, which our officers fathered upon the natives, was without a doubt the work of the Bashi-Bazouks.

About this period Lord Cardigan marched with detachments from the 8th and 11th Hussars on a reconnoitring expedition along the desolate track of country by the banks of the Danube towards Silistria; they took no tents, and only a few days’ provisions with them, and therefore had to sleep in the open air, with their horses picketed at their feet, to feed upon such scanty herbage as the ground allowed. After being away about ten days, they came in sight of the Russian field column, said to be under General Luders, who afterwards commanded the army in the field after we landed in the Crimea.

Having attained the object of this expedition, during which both his lordship and his detachments might have been surrounded and cut to pieces at any time, so ignorant were our leaders at this period of the position and whereabouts of the Russian army, Lord Cardigan retired by forced marches to Devna, and nearly every one of the horses had to be long afterwards rested from illness and sore backs. But the men were for the most part well and hearty, and Lord Cardigan experienced but little inconvenience, although it was said he suffered much from the effects of the damp ground some months afterwards in the Crimea.

We had some capital fun while lying at Devna: the officers, on horseback, would hunt the great, lurching, hungry-looking dogs, that many of the men would insist were hyenas and jackals, so wild and savage did they look. When disturbed and started at a dusting pace, the young officers would ride after—them as if for dear life, cracking their whips or flourishing a sword close to their very tails, and then would come, in motley crowd, soldiers in undress, looking as excited as if in front of the enemy, and bringing up the rear would be all the rag, tag, and bob-tail of the camp. The brute invariably ran towards the hills, and if he gained them unscathed he was safe, for both horses and men would be blown ere they could follow up the slopes. Some of these dogs are very savage, and if brought to bay in a corner would dash at your throat in an instant; but as few of us ever had sword beyond our reach, we generally made short work of them if caught red-handed with probably a piece of meat in their mouths, when carelessly left unguarded, prior to its being cooked for the dinners of a dozen men.

Towards the latter end of July the cholera made its unwelcome appearance in our camp, and many men, both cavalry, infantry, and artillery, died after a few hours’ illness in extreme agony. Every regiment encamped on the track of country extending for about twenty miles from Devna to Varna lost more or less men from this dreadful scourge; but the troops in and around the latter place suffered most, as many of our men were removed to Monastir, a healthier place farther up on the hills than Devna. The disease was said to be engendered at Varna among the Turks and Bashi-Bazouks, who are horribly filthy, and of not much real service as fighting-men on a battle-field.

About this time we were pleased to hear the news that the 4th Light Dragoons had arrived to join our brigade, henceforth being our brethren in arms; they were encamped with the 6th by the sea-shore, but both regiments lost several men from cholera, and each (especially the gallant 4th) were destined to lose the greater part of their men by the sword, as will afterwards be related. Many of the best, the bravest, and the most light-hearted of my own regiment died of the fearful pestilence at Devna.

At the latter end of August we got the welcome order to march from Devna and Monastir to Varna, with an assurance that we should soon be embarked for the Crimea, and at least be allowed to fight for our lives with a more chivalrous, if not a less relentless, enemy than the cholera. The 5th “Green Horse” lost so many men, that the remainder were for a time (until augmented by drafts from home) attached to the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards.

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