THE FIRST GREAT BOMBARDMENT--SHIPS _VERSUS_
FORTS--POOR BOY HARRIS--"TELL 'EM I DIED LIKE A
THOUSAND O' BRICKS."
The bold young hockey-player ran on and on; first as hard as he could
fly, then only in a swinging sort of trot that he felt he could keep
up long enough. Once or twice he lost himself, but soon got on the
track again. He was guided now as much by a glare in the sky--which
he knew must be the French camp--as by the rough tracks through the
bush.
And long before he came near the camp he was hailed by the outpost
sentry. Jack answered in very questionable French but in a very
short time he was telling the story of his adventures to Marshal
Canrobert himself.
Yes, this general was now in command of the French forces, and poor
St. Arnaud was dying. He had turned faint some days before, and
fallen off his horse. The moment they saw him the doctors had given
him up for lost. He was plague-stricken.
Early next morning Jack was in the British camp, and had delivered
his message and handed over the wallet. This contained important
letters from Menschikoff himself, but whether they were of any
utility or not I cannot say, only Lord Raglan complimented Jack very
highly indeed, and even found time in a letter he sent back to
Admiral Lyons to recommend our young hero for promotion.
Lord Raglan offered Jack an escort back, but this was politely but
pluckily declined.
"One man, my lord"--the reader will note that Jack talked of himself
as a man--"one man can move along more quickly and make less noise
than half a dozen."
His lordship laughed in his good-natured, fatherly way, and gave in.
After this, Jack saw and shook hands with Sir Colin Campbell.
"Man, you're a birkie,"* said Sir Colin. "I like you. Don't be
rash, though. Study war, if study it you must, as an exact science.
Not that 'go' and 'movement' don't count, for they do. Before the
battle you must be a lynx; during the fight you may be a bull.
Good-morning. Good-luck to you, lad. We may meet again."
* "Birkie," a brave young fellow.
"Well, I declare!" cried stalwart young Llewellyn, who had his left
hand in a sling. "Why, you turn up at the oddest times and in the
drollest ways. By this and by that, Jack, I am glad to see you. But
how haggard and hungry you look! Come and have breakfast. Grant
will be glad to see you. My arm? Oh, nothing, only a chip of a
Russian shell tore my coat."
"And tore the flesh?"
"Only a little. Come on. And what made you take this adventure in
hand?"
"Why, Llew I took it in hand just to please mother and sister, and
the old lady, and--"
Jack blushed.
"Ah, you old rascal, I do believe you'll end by marrying Tottie.*
But I am told she will soon not be Tottie but Tott-o. She is growing
tall and very pretty."
* The termination _ie_ in Scotch means "small;" it is also
"endearing." The termination _o_ means "great" or "large:" thus we
say, man, mannie, man-o.
"She always was. Well, I'm so pleased we've met again."
"Yes; where next, I wonder?"
"Oh, at Balaklava. We're going to help you to batter the place down."
"Batter it down we must not. That must be our seaport, Jack
Mackenzie."
* * * * *
Jack reached the admiral's ship in safety, but not without a further
adventure. This was only part of the last, however. For sitting
against a tree, and looking very faint and weak, was the very Russian
he had shot.
Jack shared his water with him, and bound up his wound, which was
through the right biceps. Then he left beside him a portion of the
food he had brought for himself, and hoping his friends would
speedily find him, went trotting off once more.
* * * * *
The question whether or not Sebastopol could have been carried by
assault during the last days of September is one we need not pause to
consider now, but Cathcart was in favour of it, and even the clever
Russian, Colonel Todleben, one of the historians of the war, admits
that the assault might have been successful.
It was on the Upland to the south of Sebastopol that most of the
fighting and suffering would now take place, or around it.
[Illustration: Map of Balaklava town and harbour]
The town and harbour of Balaklava itself had soon fallen into our
possession, and the allies were encamped on the plateau above it
(_vide_ plan), formerly called the Chersonese, and now, as I have
said, "the Upland."
An attack on the north side of Sebastopol, you will perceive, was
never seriously contemplated, though Todleben had made every
preparation to repel it.
Early in the morning of the second of October, the women, children,
and non-combatants left Sebastopol, with as much of their goods and
chattels as they could conveniently carry. A dreary journey away
north lay before them, but it was imperative. War knows no sentiment
where her interests are concerned. Bellona is indeed a stern
mistress. But thus relieved, the great and wise engineer, Todleben,
found himself quite unshackled in the defence. The mere drones had
left the great hive, and so he bent all his energies to strengthening
the works and forts.
Balaklava itself was but a very insignificant place indeed, but it
would gain importance henceforward, and be the base of our supplies.
The "town" of Balaklava and its old ports had very quickly been
silenced by a few shots from one of our ships; and when our army
appeared on the heights, we found that communication with the fleets
was already open.
But having taken it, we were graciously permitted by the French to
retain it, and with it the right side of the allied line. I believe
that in those days the French could see as far through a milestone as
most people. Anyhow, with Balaklava and the right we chose much
sorrow, and an amount of suffering to our troops that not even the
pen of Kinglake has overdrawn.
* * * * *
A glance or two at the plan (p. 294) will give the reader as good an
idea of Sebastopol's outer and inner harbour as pages of text can.
The following brief sentences, however, from the pen of General Sir
Edward Hamley, K.C.B.,* may be read with interest:--"The roadstead of
Sebastopol is a creek about four miles long from the point where it
breaks, nearly at right angles, the coast-line to its extremity where
the Tchernaya flows into it. It maintains a great depth throughout,
even close to the shore. On the points that mark the entrance stood
two forts--that on the north named Constantine; on the south,
Alexander.
* This gentleman's succinct and clever book, "The War in the Crimea."
Lecky and Co., publishers.
"After entering the roadstead ...... and about a mile from the
entrance, the inner or man-o'-war harbour ran for a mile and a half
into the southern shore. On the two points that mark this inlet
stood two other forts, Nicholas and Paul. On the west shore of this
inner creek stood the city of Sebastopol.
"The plateau or plain where the allied armies stood--the Upland--was
marked off from the Tchernaya by a wall of cliff, which, following up
that stream southward for about a mile from its mouth, turns round
south-west and defines the valley of Balaklava, passing about a mile
north of that place, and joining the sea-cliffs."
The Malakoff, the Redan, and Mamelon are all seen on the plan.
The French had the left of the Upland, and made the inlets near Cape
Kherson, called Kazatch and Kamiesch Bays, their base; and the latter
was speedily filled with their shipping, which landed their tents and
stores on a temporary raft. There was around this bay quite a town
of tents. Moreover, the French made a well-paved road from it all
along the rear of their division, facing Sebastopol. It will be
seen, therefore, that our Gallic allies knew how to make themselves
snug.
The Upland is divided from south to north by the great ravine,
separating the French and English at first, but afterwards taken
possession of by the French siege-corps.
The plan shows where the cliffs sweep round to the north of
Balaklava, and these the French fortified.
Crossing the great ravine, you would have found first the Third and
Fourth English Divisions, then the Light Division, with, on its
right, the Careenage Creek; and on the other side of this ravine the
Second Division, looking towards the Inkermann heights, and in its
rear the First Division, about a hundred yards back, and also resting
its right on the rocky edge of the Upland.
One vulnerable point in the British line was the valley of Balaklava.
A reference to the plan will show the Woronzoff Road, which goes to
the left up the cliff and thence to Sebastopol. Another branch of
this road goes on to M'Kenzie heights, and away north and west
towards Southern Russia. This road ought to have been strongly
fortified from Balaklava to the Upland. As it was, the Russians
could get to Balaklava out of reach of the guns on the edge of the
Upland, and we must descend to the valley to repel them.
On the north-east of Balaklava were the heights of Kamara, and a row
of heights crossed the valley from here to the Upland. On these some
works were made carrying twelve-pounder guns and manned by Turks.
Below these heights, and between them and Balaklava harbour, the 93rd
Highlanders were posted. Marines--over a thousand, with guns brought
from the ships--were placed to the right of the harbour on the
heights, while cavalry were also stationed below the cliffs of the
Upland, and not far from the Highlanders.
* * * * *
The siege of Sebastopol was now begun in earnest, under the
supervision of Burgoyne. The French, taking advantage of a stormy
night, threw up their first trench on Mount Rodolph. This was 1,100
yards in length. Then on the next two nights we opened our first on
Green Hill and Mount Woronzoff. Although the Russians by their
cannonade succeeded in doing considerable mischief to our trenches by
day, at night they were repaired and pushed on. On the 16th these
were ready and mounted for siege.
* * * * *
It was agreed that a simultaneous attack should be made by land and
sea, although the strength of the great stone forts did not appear
very promising for our wooden ships. The proposal emanated from Lord
Raglan, and Admiral Dundas gave a kind of unwilling consent to it.
The fifteenth of October was a big and a busy day with the fleets,
for a great naval conference assembled, and boats were flying from
ship to ship, busily enough, with officers in cocked hats, and in
their "war-paint," as Dr. Reikie called it.
Sturdy and his friend Jack Mackenzie watched the scene with great
interest from the deck of the saucy _Gurnet_.
"What do you think of it, sir?" said Jack.
"Think of it! think of what?"
"Why, our chance of success against the forts?"
"Humph!" said Sturdy. "What would you think of a man who tried to
break a cocoa-nut by shying rotten pears at it?"
"Why, I'd think him a fool."
"Well, our admiral is--ahem!"
I am not going to say whether it was Dundas or Lyons that Sturdy
referred to, though I think I know. Anyhow this honest sailor had a
habit of saying just exactly what he thought.
"Ah, well," said Jack, somewhat dolefully, "I suppose there won't be
much chance of my winning my epaulettes during the bombardment."
"Humph!" again grunted Sturdy. "I don't know about epaulettes; but
if a Russian shell or a bigger shot than usual catches us between
wind and water, it'll be a halo you'll soon be wearing, instead of
epaulettes, lad."
The first great cannonade, then, between our land forces and
Sebastopol began on the seventeenth of October, as early as half-past
six. The bombardment, the great fight betwixt trench and fort, was
fearful, and lasted for four hours--a perfect _feu d'enfer_.
We--the British--silenced Malakoff Tower and damaged other Russian
works. But the French were far less successful; for about ten
o'clock the magazine of Mount Rodolph was exploded by a Russian
shell, killing and wounding nearly a hundred men, and by half-past
ten the batteries of the French were completely silenced.
Our guns, however, kept on: we not only silenced the batteries round
the Malakoff, but by three o'clock we had partly destroyed the
parapets of the famous Redan, blowing up a magazine, with a loss to
the Russians, as we afterwards discovered, of over a hundred men. We
had avenged the poor French therefore.
[Illustration: She laid about her right and left.]
The calamity, however, which they had fallen under prevented the
intended assault on the Flagstaff Bastion, which they were to have
made side by side with us. Compared with the French, our losses in
this bombardment were but slight--under fifty in all--while in killed
and wounded the Russians lost over a thousand.
* * * * *
But alas for Jack Mackenzie's hopes of glory either in the shape of
epaulettes or a halo--by the way, though, I do not think that he was
particularly anxious about the halo; he said he didn't want to be
caught out in his first innings--for neither our own bold ships nor
those of the French effected anything worth speaking of, although in
all they had brought 1,100 guns into action. The Russians lost but
140 men, the French over 200, and our fleet 320.
"I told you," said Sturdy to Jack, when the _Gurnet_, with the rest
of the ships, had been withdrawn--"I told you we would be beaten. A
beastly waste of gunpowder, I call it, and honest fellows' lives."
How very busy the Russians had been that night may be inferred from
the fact that the dawn of the eighteenth day of October saw their
breaches repaired, more guns mounted, and all the effects of the
terrible bombardment entirely effaced.
On the twenty-third of October, the _Gurnet_ being round at
Balaklava, Dr. Reikie received from the trenches, among other
wounded, our old friend the boy Harris. He had belonged to Peel's
naval brigade, and very gallantly he had fought. Before the fighting
had commenced, some weeks indeed, he had been one of the very
merriest among our blue-jackets who helped to tow the guns up to the
heights.
He had been cut down by a piece of shell which completely carried
away his right arm. He had begged very hard to be sent on board the
_Gurnet_, and although the surgeon who attended him believed from the
first the case was hopeless, he had yielded to his request. He was
placed under the awning in a hammock amidships.
"Ah!" he said, "I can die a kind o' easy now. Bother my wig, though,
I should have liked to have seen the last of it. Ain't there any
hope, doctor, sir?"
Dr. Reikie shook his head.
"I'll sit up with you," he said, "and---see."
"Ah yes, I understand."
He lay still for a few minutes. Then he asked for his ditty-box--a
small box possessed by every young sailor in which to keep his
trinkets and valuables.
"Doctor, sir," he said, "you'll send this little box to my mother and
father, won't you? Here is the old couple. I'll keep this as long
as I last. Tell them that I died like a thousand o' bricks."
That was his last joke. He fell quietly to sleep with the little
case containing his parents' portrait on his breast.
He never woke again.