THE CRIMEAN CROSSES OF THE NAVY.
The record of our Bluejackets afloat and ashore in the Crimean War is one
of which the senior service has good reason to be proud. While the siege
of Sebastopol was in its early stages a British fleet sailed up to the
Baltic, but without achieving much result, though a second expedition
succeeded (in 1855) in doing considerable damage to the fortress of
Sveaborg. At the same time another fleet harassed the enemy in the Black
Sea and the Sea of Azov. On land the Naval Brigade did yeoman service at
Inkerman, and in the protracted fighting around Sebastopol.
“Handy Man Jack” has never missed an opportunity of going ashore to have
“some shooting with them redcoats,” in our big and little wars. From the
days of Nelson, when they slung their 24- and 18-pounders on to Diamond
Rock, to the recent Boer War, he has proved himself a rare fighter, quite
as efficient with rifle and bayonet as his brother-in-arms. And the way
he handles his field-guns must be the envy of the artillery.
In the history of the V.C. the Navy not only figures very prominently but
enjoys the proud distinction of having the first Cross for Valour placed
to its credit. The senior winner of the decoration is Rear-Admiral C. D.
Lucas, R.N., and the scene of his exploit was Bomarsund, in the Baltic.
While the bombardment of this port of the Äland Islands, which are
situated just off the coast of Finland, was being carried on by our
warships under Admiral Napier’s command, a live shell suddenly dropped on
to the deck of H.M.S. _Hecla_. It was a moment of frightful suspense for
every one on board who watched the grim messenger of death fizzing there
within a few yards of them. But there was one man on deck who saw what to
do.
Acting-mate Lucas, on duty near one of the guns, promptly ran forward
and with iron nerve picked up the shell, dropping it instantly over the
ship’s side. The burning fuse sputtered out in the water, and the shell
sank harmlessly to the bottom.
Captain Hall, his commander, brought the plucky deed under the notice of
Admiral Napier, who, in writing to the Admiralty about the young sailor’s
bravery, trusted that “their Lordships would mark their sense of it by
promoting him.” This recommendation was acted upon, Lucas being at once
raised to the rank of lieutenant. When later on the Victoria Cross was
instituted the young officer’s name figured duly in the _Gazette_.
Two other sailors who gained the V.C. for similar actions were Captain
William Peel, the dashing leader of the Naval Brigade, and Chief Gunner
Israel Harding of H.M.S. _Alexandra_, also a Crimean veteran.
Whole pages might be written about Captain Peel’s exploits. All the time
the naval men were engaged with the troops round Sebastopol he was ever
to the fore, leading forlorn hopes and fighting shoulder to shoulder
with his soldier comrades whenever opportunity offered. At Inkerman, at
the fierce attack on the Sandbag Battery, he was in the thick of it, and
again at the Redan assault.
Peel loved danger for danger’s sake. There was no risk that daunted
him. At the attack on the impregnable Shah Nujeef, at Lucknow, in the
Indian Mutiny, two years later, he led his gun detachment right up to
the loopholed walls, which were crowded with rebel sharpshooters. He
behaved, said Sir Colin Campbell, “very much as if he had been laying the
_Shannon_ alongside an enemy’s frigate.”
It was Peel who first demonstrated the practicability of fighting with
big guns in the skirmishing line. “It is a truth, and not a jest,” he
once wrote home, “that in battle we are with the skirmishers.” The way
in which the sailors handled their great ship’s cannon, 8-inch guns,
24-pounders, and the like, was marvellous. A military officer, in a
letter that was written at the front, gives an interesting reminiscence
of the Naval Brigade. “Sometimes in these early days of October 1854,” he
says, “whilst our soldiery were lying upon the ground, weary, languid,
and silent, there used to be heard a strange uproar of men coming nearer
and nearer. Soon the comers would prove to be Peel of the _Diamond_ with
a number of his sailors, all busy in dragging up to the front one of the
ship’s heavy guns.”
In a future chapter we shall meet again this intrepid son of Sir Robert
Peel, the great statesman, winning glory and renown under Campbell and
Havelock. For the present I must confine myself to his career in the
Crimea.
The most notable of the three acts, the dates of which are inscribed
on his Cross, was performed in October 1854, at the Diamond Battery
which some of the Naval Brigade were holding. The battery needing fresh
ammunition, this had to be brought in by volunteers, for the horses of
the waggons refused to approach the earthworks owing to the heavy Russian
fire.
Case by case it was carried in and stacked in its place, and right into
the midst of it all, like a bolt from the blue, dropped a shell. Peel
jumped for it like a flash. One heave of his shoulders and away went the
“whistle-neck” to burst in impotent fury several yards off--outside the
battery’s parapet.
The second date on his Cross notes the affair at the Sandbag Battery,
where he joined the Grenadier officers and helped to save the colours
from capture. On the third occasion when his bravery was commended for
recognition he headed a ladder-party in that assault on the Redan in
which Graham and Perie won such distinction.
In this attack the gallant captain was badly wounded in the head and arm,
a misfortune which was the means of gaining the V.C. for another brave
young sailor. From the beginning of the war Midshipman Edward St. John
Daniels had attached himself to Captain Peel, acting as the latter’s
aide-de-camp at Inkerman. During the battle he was a conspicuous figure,
as, mounted on a pony, he accompanied his leader about the field.
In the Redan assault he was still by Peel’s side, and caught him as he
fell on the glacis. Then, heedless of the danger to which he was exposed,
he coolly set to work to bandage the wounded man, tying a tourniquet on
his arm, which is said to have saved Peel’s life. This done, he got his
chief to a place of safety.
Daniels did another plucky action some months earlier, when he
volunteered to bring in ammunition from a waggon that had broken down
outside his battery. The fact that the waggon became immediately the
target for a murderous fire from the Russian guns weighed little with
him. He brought in the cartridges and powder without receiving a scratch,
and the battery cheered to a man as the plucky little chap scrambled over
the parapet with his last armful.
Along with Peel and Daniels must be named that popular idol William
Nathan Wrighte Hewett, known to his messmates as “Bully Hewett.” He was
nearly as picturesque a character as his commander.
At Sebastopol, the day following Balaclava fight, Hewett (he was
acting-mate at the time), fought a great long-range Lancaster gun that
had been hauled up from his ship, H.M.S. _Beagle_. The gun drew a
determined attack on its flank from a very large force of Russians, and
orders were sent to Hewett by a military officer to spike the gun and
abandon his battery. The odds were too overwhelming.
In emphatic language the young sailor declared that he’d take no orders
from anyone but his own captain, and was going to stick to his gun.
The other “Beagles” were quite of his opinion. In quick time they knocked
down a portion of the parapet that prevented the huge Lancaster bearing
on the flank and slewed the piece round. Then, loading and firing with
sailorly smartness, they poured such a hot fire into the advancing horde
of Russians that the latter beat a retreat.
They used the big gun with great advantage at Inkerman, but the young
mate’s splendid defence of his battery was enough by itself to win him a
well-deserved V.C. Hewett died eighteen years ago, a Vice-Admiral and a
K.C.B.
A page or two back I mentioned Israel Harding, chief gunner, as a third
naval hero of the live shell. It was many years after the Crimean War
that his opportunity came, but his exploit may well be noted down here.
Harding was a gunner on board H.M.S. _Alexandra_, when, in July 1882, Sir
Beauchamp Seymour (afterwards Lord Alcester) with his fleet bombarded
Alexandria. On the first day of the action (the 11th), a big 10-inch
shell from an Egyptian battery struck the ironclad and lodged on the
main deck. The alarm was raised, and at the cry “Live shell above the
hatchway!” Harding rushed up the companion. There was luckily a tub of
water handy, and having wetted the fizzing fuse he dumped the shell into
the tub just in the nick of time.
As in Lucas’s case, promotion quickly followed with the gunner, while the
V.C. was soon after conferred upon him. The shell, it may be of interest
to note, is now among the treasures of her Majesty the Queen.
So many naval heroes call for attention that I must hurry on to speak of
Lucas’s comrades in the Baltic who also won the coveted decoration.
There was Captain of the Mast George Ingouville, serving in the
_Arrogant_. On the 13th of July 1855, the second cutter of his vessel got
into difficulties while the fleet was bombarding the town of Viborg. A
shell having exploded her magazine, she became half swamped and began
to drift quickly to shore. Observing this, Ingouville dived off into the
sea and swam after the runaway. He was handicapped with a wounded arm,
but being a strong swimmer he reached the cutter just as it neared a
battery. With the painter over his shoulder he struck out again for the
_Arrogant_, and towed his prize safely under her lee.
At about the same time a gallant lieutenant of Marines--now Lieut.-Col.
George Dare Dowell, R.M.A.--did much the same thing. When a rocket-boat
of the _Arrogant_ was disabled he lowered the quarter-boat of his ship
the _Ruby_, and with three volunteers rowed to the other’s aid. Dowell
not only succeeded in saving some of the _Arrogant_ men, but on a second
journey recaptured the boat.
It was a lieutenant of the _Arrogant_, however, who eclipsed both these
deeds, brave as they were. The exploit of John Bythesea and his ship’s
stoker, William Johnstone, on the Island of Wardo, reads more like
fiction than sober fact. This is the story of it.
Early in August of 1854 Lieutenant Bythesea learned from a reliable
source that some highly important despatches from the Tsar, intended
for the General in charge of the island, were expected to arrive with
a mail then due. At once he conceived the daring idea of intercepting
the despatch-carrier and securing his valuable documents. His superior
officers thought the project a mad one when he first broached it, but
Bythesea would not be gainsaid. The thing was worth trying, and he and
Johnstone (who had volunteered his services) were the men to carry it
through with success. In the end he had his way, though when the two
plucky fellows quitted the ship on their hazardous errand their shipmates
bade them good-bye with little expectation of ever seeing them again.
The lieutenant and the stoker had disguised themselves very effectively
in Russian clothes, and managed to get to land safely. Here they learned
from their informant, a Swedish farmer, that the mail had not yet
arrived, but was expected at any hour. When darkness fell, therefore, the
two Englishmen found a good hiding-place down by the shore, and commenced
their vigil.
This was the evening of the 9th of August. It was not until the 12th that
the long-awaited mail came to land. For three whole days and nights they
had not ventured from their concealment, save once or twice when the
vigilance of Russian patrols had forced them to take to a small boat and
anchor about half a mile off the coast.
On the morning of the 12th, Johnstone, who spoke Swedish fluently,
learned from the friendly farmer that the mail had arrived, and was to be
sent to the fort that night. Great caution was to be observed, the farmer
added, as it was known to the Russians that someone from the British
fleet had landed. At dark, therefore, the two took up their position at
a convenient spot and awaited the coming of the mail-bags. In due course
they heard the grating of a boat’s keel on the beach. A few Russian words
of command were given, and then sounded the tramp of feet on the road
that led up to the military station.
[Illustration: THE ESCORT CAME SWINGING UP THE ROAD WITHOUT A SUSPICION
OF DANGER.--_Page 53._]
The lieutenant and his companion were ready at the instant. A hasty
glance at their weapons satisfied them that these were in order,
and moving a bit nearer to the roadway they waited until the escort
approached.
In the dim light they perceived that the Russian soldiers in charge of
the bags numbered five. It was heavy odds, but the prize was great. They
could not dream of drawing back. The escort came swinging up the road
without a suspicion of danger, and just as they passed the spot where a
clump of bushes provided secure shelter out leapt the two Englishmen with
cutlass and revolver.
The cold steel did the work effectively; a pistol shot would have raised
the alarm. Three of the soldiers were cut down in the surprise attack,
while the remaining two yielded themselves prisoners to these redoubtable
assailants. As quickly as possible prisoners and mail-bags were hurried
to the water’s edge, where a boat lay in readiness for them.
In half an hour’s time the despatches were being examined in the
captain’s cabin on board the _Arrogant_, their contents proving to be
of the utmost importance. Bythesea had captured the details of certain
extensive operations planned against the Baltic fleet of the Allies and
the army in the South. Such a service was worthy of the highest honour,
and both the lieutenant and Stoker Johnstone received the Cross for
Valour for that desperate night’s work.
* * * * *
Down in the South, in the Sea of Azov, which the map shows us to lie
just north of the Black Sea, our Bluejackets were doing splendid service
in the latter months of 1855. The towns of Genitchesk and Taganrog were
shelled with great loss to the Russians, but as they moved their stores
farther inland the occasion arose for individual expeditions which aimed
at destroying these. The story of the fleet’s operations in this quarter,
therefore, resolves itself into a relation of the several attempts,
successful and otherwise, to harass the enemy in this way.
That the task of setting fire to the store buildings was attended with
tremendous risk was proved over and over again. One or two daring
spirits, including a French captain, were caught and shot by Cossack
patrols. But there are always men to be found ready--nay, anxious--to
undertake enterprises of so desperate a nature.
Wellington had the renowned scout, Major Colquhoun Grant (whose
adventures in the Peninsula teem with romance), doing wonderful
“intelligence” work for him; and to come to more recent times, we may
call to mind Lord Kitchener’s daring journey through the Soudan in
1884, disguised as an Arab, for the purpose of learning what were the
intentions of the various tribes with regard to Egypt.
In the Crimea such men as Lieutenants Day, Buckley, Burgoyne, and
Commerell acted as the eyes and ears of their commanders, and volunteered
for those little jobs that so infuriated the Russians when the red glow
in the midnight sky showed them where stacks of forage and other stores
blazed merrily.
Day’s V.C. was awarded him for a most valuable piece of work. His
ship was stationed off Genitchesk (frequently spelt Genitchi), in the
north-eastern corner of the Crimea, and it was deemed necessary to
reconnoitre the enemy’s lines to ascertain the full strength of the
Russians. For this dangerous service the young lieutenant volunteered.
Accordingly, one night he was landed alone on the Tongue, or Spit, of
Arabat, at the spot he had chosen whence to start. Cossacks, singly or
in small companies, policed the marshy wastes, but Day wriggled his way
between their posts and eventually got close to the Russian gunboats. The
dead silence that prevailed misled him as to the numbers thereon, and
convinced that the vessels were deserted he returned to report the facts
to his captain.
The next day circumstances induced him to suppose that he had been
mistaken. He decided to make a second journey without loss of time,
and one night very soon afterwards saw him again on the Spit. Day soon
discovered that large reinforcements had arrived on the mainland, and at
once made haste to return to his ship.
The long detours he was now obliged to make, to avoid contact with the
Cossack sentries, led him through quagmires and over sandy stretches
that severely tried his endurance. When he reached the shore at last,
well-nigh exhausted, nearly ten hours had elapsed since his start, and it
is not surprising that, having heard shots fired, his comrades had given
him up for lost. He got back after a most providential escape, however,
and made his report. But for his discoveries an attempt would certainly
have been made to seize the Russian boats, in which case the result must
have been disastrous.
Lieutenants Buckley and Burgoyne distinguished themselves by landing near
Genitchesk at night and firing some immense supplies of stones. With
the seaman, Robarts, who accompanied them, they were nearly cut off by
Cossacks on their return, and only a fierce fight enabled them to escape.
All three won the V.C. for this daring piece of work.
Lieutenant Commerell (afterwards Admiral Sir J. E. Commerell, G.C.B.)
performed a like action later on the same year, which gained the V.C. for
him and one of his two companions, Quartermaster Rickard.
Their objective was the Crimean shore of the Putrid Sea, on the western
side of the Spit of Arabat. They accomplished their task successfully,
setting fire to 400 tons of Russian corn and forage, but were chased by
Cossacks for a long distance. In the helter-skelter rush back for the
boat, about three miles away, the third man of the party, Able-Seaman
George Milestone, fell exhausted in a swamp, and but for Commerell’s and
Rickard’s herculean exertions must have fallen a victim to the enemy.
Making what is popularly known as a “bandy-chair”, by clasping each
other’s wrists, the two officers managed to carry their companion a
considerable distance. A party of Cossacks at this juncture had nearly
succeeded in cutting them off, but the sailors in the boat now opened
fire, while Commerell, dropping his burden for a moment, brought down
the leading horseman by a bullet from his revolver. This fortunately
checked the Cossacks, who were only some sixty yards away, and by dint
of half carrying, half dragging Milestone, the plucky lieutenant and
quartermaster eventually got him to the boat, and were soon out of reach
of their pursuers.
The foregoing deeds of derring-do worthily uphold the finest traditions
of the Royal Navy. How more largely still was the “First Line” to
write its name in the annals of the Victoria Cross will be seen in the
succeeding pages.