COMMENCEMENT OF MY CAMPAIGN IN THE CRIMEA.
Visitors to Miss Nightingale--The floating drawing-room--Terrible
cannonade--A sortie--Second series of visitors--Young Thomas, the
drummer-boy--His devotion to Miss Nightingale--Balaklava
mud--General Hospital--The Sanatorium--Rugged ascent--Extensive
view--Dr. Henderson--Storm of the 14th of November described by an
eye-witness--Tour round the hospital--An officer patient--Return to
the _Robert Lowe_--Off to the camp--A party of equestrians--A
perfect Babel--Small hospital at Kadikoi--Splendid array of
camps--A regimental hospital--Lord Raglan’s house--Colonel
Steele--General Hospital before Sebastopol--“The good lady of
Scutari”--An ovation--A peep at Sebastopol--The Three-mortar
Battery--P. M. dodging a shell--A striking scene--Losing the
way--The Zouaves--Various adventures--A casualty--Once more on
board.
No sooner was it known that Miss Nightingale had arrived, than hosts of
visitors poured in from all directions, amongst whom were Commissary
Filder, Mr. Henderson, Chief Doctor at the Balaklava Hospital, the
Clergyman, Doctor Sutherland, Mr. Anderson, &c., &c., which caused her
to hold a kind of floating drawing-room. Mr. Bracebridge was also busily
engaged, so I did not see him again till dinner-time. I despatched the
four soldier cooks I had instructed and brought with me to the
Sanatorium, as the troops were landing, and they were required on shore.
Having settled my future plan of operations with my secretary, and
closed our post for the next day, I was quite at liberty to accompany
Miss Nightingale in the morning on her visit to the various hospitals,
as we had previously decided.
The same evening, about nine, a terrible cannonade was heard from the
besieged city, which produced more effect upon us than upon the
initiated. The report of the fusillade was also plainly heard. This
proved to be a sortie, which it appeared often happened, and produced
no effect upon the inhabitants. Such, however, was not the case with P.
M., though I tried to persuade him that there was no danger, “except,”
said I, “in case the enemy should prove victorious, and retake
Balaklava, which might happen through some _ruse de guerre_ unknown to
the allied army.” “Well,” said P. M., “but I did not bargain for that,
and I assure you I very much regret having come at all. Oh, give me
London and Red Lion Square before any of your seats of war, for I see no
fun in glory.”
“Now we are in for it,” I said, “we must go bravely through it. Screw
your courage to the sticking point, and Wigham Ward for ever!”
The next morning, at seven, everybody was up and busily engaged, when
Mr. Bracebridge came and told me that Miss Nightingale had been up,
writing since daybreak, and would be ready immediately after breakfast.
About eight o’clock, in poured a second series of visitors. Among the
earliest arrivals were Sir J. Macneil and Captain Tulloch; the former
gentleman I had the pleasure of knowing at the Reform Club a few years
back. We then had a short conversation touching the soldiers’ food, and
cooking in general. Colonel Harding, Admiral Boxer, Commissary Filder,
&c., came next. Miss Nightingale had given notice that she must be at
the hospital by half-past ten, and was then upon deck ready to start. I
took the opportunity of impressing upon her the necessity of leaving the
ship at once, or the day would pass without our doing anything. We
embarked in a small boat and went on shore, followed by young Thomas,
the drummer-boy, whom I must introduce to my readers as a little wonder;
and, although he had not taken time to grow to manhood, he did not like
to be called a boy. Although but twelve years old, he always called
himself Miss Nightingale’s and Mr. Bracebridge’s man. He was a regular
_enfant de troupe_, full of activity, wit, intelligence, and glee. He
had quitted his instruments and sticks, as he called them, to devote his
civil and military career to Miss Nightingale, that lady having claimed
his services. To her he was as devoted as an aide-de-camp to his
general. Before the enemy could have approached his adored mistress, the
drummer boy, would have been cut to pieces. This he told me himself at a
later period, when a report was in circulation that the Russians were
likely to attack Balaklava by the Kamara side. Miss Nightingale’s hut
being the nearest that way on the Genoese heights, would certainly have
been attacked first.
Though the weather was fine overhead, there was about ten inches of mud
in the unpaved and uneven streets of Balaklava, which caused us to be
half-an-hour going a distance that might, under ordinary circumstances,
have been accomplished in ten minutes. On our arrival at the General
Hospital, we were received by Miss Wear, the matron of the hospital,
“under Miss Nightingale.” Miss Nightingale requested me to try and find
Doctor Henderson, who unluckily, as we thought through a mistake, was
waiting for us at the Sanatorium on the Genoese heights. In his absence,
Miss Wear and the medical superintendent showed us over the wards, which
were crammed full of sick and wounded. We then visited the general
kitchen, which, though rather short of cooking utensils and
accommodation, was kept tolerably clean. A civilian cook was engaged
making rather good soup, but it had boiled too fast. At all events, it
was a satisfaction to me to find some one willing to improve, as he
observed. Promising to send him my receipts and have his kitchen
comfortably arranged, and to supply him with a few tin utensils, we left
him.
We next went to the extra-diet kitchen, which was anything but a
comfortable one, though Mrs. Davis, who made the extra diets, managed
pretty well, by dint of perseverance and a deal of trouble. She was
compelled to use preserved soups, which are not wholesome for delicate
or weak stomachs, and are, moreover, generally served up too strong, as
scarcely any one who uses them will take the trouble to read the
instructions pasted upon each case, and add the proper quantity of water
required. These are at all times better adapted for persons in health
than for the sick, always excepting the essence of beef (see Hospital
Diets), which, when properly seasoned according to my receipt, is really
very good. I made a list of what apparatus and kitchen utensils were
required, and then we left Miss Davis, much pleased with Miss
Nightingale’s kind remarks, my approbation of her services, and, above
all, very proud of having, two days before, been visited and highly
complimented by Lady Stratford de Redcliffe and the other ladies. Lord
Stratford and family had passed us at sea the day before, on their
return to Constantinople, on board the _Caradoc_; a circumstance I much
regretted, as I had anticipated the pleasure of accompanying Lord and
Lady de Redcliffe to the various camp and hospital kitchens. We then
left the General Hospital, and ascended to the Sanatorium by a narrow
and almost perpendicular road cut out of the rock; in consequence of the
ups and downs, it took us full three-quarters of an hour to accomplish
the distance, and very uncomfortably too, the roads being so dirty. The
view during the ascent is transcendently beautiful and refreshing--the
sight of the harbour beneath filled with ships, the chain of rocky
mountains, distant view of the Guards’ camp, the village of Kadikoi, its
Greek church, the Zouave camp, and the traffic of thousands below,
busily running to and fro, formed a naval and military tableau which
well repaid us for our trouble. On reaching the verge of the hill facing
the grand tower, which proudly bore the British flagstaff, Miss
Nightingale and myself made an involuntary halt to admire this splendid
view.
“Did you ever see anything more picturesque than this, Mademoiselle? And
were it not for the everlasting report of the cannon, could you not
believe you were in the Land of Promise, redolent with the green bloom
of nature, which almost covers those rocky mountains? Turn your eyes on
that side towards the busy harbour--can you not imagine you are looking
at Landseer’s celebrated pictures on one side of Peace and the other
side of War?”
Miss Nightingale replied, “I had heard Balaklava was a very pretty
place, but I did not expect to find anything so beautiful.”
“I believe, Mademoiselle, that gentleman coming down from the Sanatorium
is Dr. Henderson? I recollect having seen him inquiring after you last
evening.”
“So it is, Monsieur Soyer; I suppose he has waited so long for us, that
he is coming back to the General Hospital.”
“Thomas,” said I to the boy, “run and tell that gentleman Miss
Nightingale is coming, or he may take another road, and miss us.” A few
minutes after, we met the doctor, who very much regretted not having met
us at the General Hospital, according to promise. Several important
cases sent from the trenches (among which was the amputation of an arm)
had delayed him.
“I suppose, doctor, you use chloroform in all cases of amputation?”
“Yes, we do, Monsieur Soyer, and with very great success, not having
lost a single patient since its application.”
By this time we had arrived at the hospital, which is composed of
immense rows of huts, erected on the crest of the lofty mountain facing
the sea, commanding a beautiful view of the bay. Miss Nightingale
observed that no doubt the site was a healthy one, but that it would be
very hot in summer and equally cold in winter.
“Well,” said the doctor, “we thought of that ourselves; but really
Balaklava is so mountainous, that for the life of us, we could not pitch
upon any other spot. However, the least breeze from the sea will be felt
in summer, and in winter we must contrive to screen it somehow. Should
we have another storm like that of the 14th of last November, we should
be blown away.”
One of the men, hearing the storm mentioned, told me that he had
witnessed it from beginning to end. I then asked him a few particulars,
and he related the circumstance as follows, while Dr. Henderson and Miss
Nightingale were walking among the ruins, talking over business matters.
“Would you believe it, sir--the furious waves seemed to fly right over
the tower, and the shipping in the bay was almost invisible for a long
time. In fact, we thought that all the vessels were lost; from the mass
of water blown into the air, we took it to be the level of the sea or
the beginning of a second deluge.” Pointing with his hand towards the
bay, “That is the spot where the _Prince_ was lost, and further on you
see the place where the _Retribution_ was at anchor, with the Duke of
Cambridge on board. The storm lasted above ten hours. We were quite wet
in the tower, and could not get out. Had we done so, we should probably
have been blown down the hill or into the sea. In the ravine above sixty
large poplar trees were torn up by the roots by one gust of wind.”
“How was it, in the first place, that you came to be there?”
“Why, you see, sir, we were stationed there to manage the signals for
ships to enter the harbour, and I happened to be on duty at the time.”
“It must have been a fearful sight,” said I.
“Sight, sir!--there was nothing to be seen for many hours; and it was
only towards night that it cleared up a little, and then we could see
the masts of the shipping in the harbour, rolling about like a forest
under the influence of the shock of an earthquake. The next day, I was
put on fatigue duty, to bury the corpses washed on shore from the wreck
of the _Prince_, and a dreadful job it was, I assure you, sir.”
“Where were they buried?”
“Over the way, on the edge of Leander Bay. You may see the spot from
this,” pointing it out. “There are above twenty there, to my knowledge;
but some were never found.” Thanking him for his information, I invited
him to come and see me when my kitchens were open, and get a basin of
good soup whenever he pleased. I then rejoined the doctor and Miss
Nightingale, who were returning to the hospital.
We visited the various wards, each of which contained about thirty
patients. Miss Nightingale had a kind word for all, and many a
conversation with those who had been severely wounded. Having seen five
or six of the wards, I begged Miss Nightingale to excuse my accompanying
her through the others; as I wished, in order to lose no time, to go and
visit the kitchens, and set my men to work, which plan she much approved
of, saying that when she had seen the hospitals, she should like to
visit the kitchens also. As I was going out, I met Mr. Bracebridge on
horseback, coming to meet us. We went to the kitchens, which we found
were built of mud, exposed to the open air, unroofed, and burning much
fuel. I immediately fixed upon a spot to build a kitchen, and sketched a
plan, which I submitted to the doctor and Miss Nightingale, who had then
joined us. We also visited those mud mounts called cook-houses, looked
over the provision stores, and departed. Miss Nightingale, Dr.
Henderson, and myself, returned together by the same road, Miss
Nightingale intending to visit an officer patient who was at the
doctor’s house. Mr. Bracebridge being on horseback, was compelled to
take another road. On reaching the doctor’s house, Miss Nightingale was
introduced to the patient, who was suffering from a very severe attack
of typhus fever. I stayed in the front room, making my sketch for the
new hospital kitchens. At length Miss Nightingale retired, after giving
words of consolation to the patient, and promising the doctor to send a
nurse who would set him to rights.
As we were returning to the vessel, I could not help remarking that Miss
Nightingale seemed much fatigued; upon which she replied, “I do feel
rather tired, those roads are so bad.” I inquired about the patient she
had visited.
“The poor young man,” said she, “is very ill. I very much fear for his
life.” She then stated what a bad attack of fever it was. Upon this, I
remarked, that it was very imprudent of her to remain so long near him.
“Oh, Monsieur Soyer, I am used to that.”
“Very true, Mademoiselle, but then it is in large airy wards, and not in
small rooms, like the one you have just left.”
“I must say that I have been very fortunate through my Scutari
campaign, and I hope to be as fortunate in the Crimea.”
“I hope so too, but would recommend you to be careful of your health, as
I am sure the army cannot spare you.”
By this time we were near the _Robert Lowe_--a boat was ready to take us
on board, and Mr. Bracebridge was anxiously waiting our arrival, to
inform Miss Nightingale that Lord Raglan had been on board, and also to
the General Hospital, in order to see her, and was very much
disappointed at not having had that pleasure. It was arranged that we
should visit the camp next day, and that I should go and deliver my
official letter, and present my humble duty to Lord Raglan. Miss
Nightingale decided upon taking that opportunity of returning his
lordship’s visit. Doctor Sutherland and Mr. Anderson, of the Sanitary
Commission, who happened to be on board, arranged about the horses, and
the time of our departure the next morning.
At nine, we were all on shore and mounted. There were about eight of us
ready to escort our heroine to the seat of war. Miss Nightingale was
attired simply in a genteel amazone, or riding-habit, and had quite a
martial air. She was mounted upon a very pretty mare, of a golden
colour, which, by its gambols and caracoling, seemed proud to carry its
noble charge. The weather was very fine. Our cavalcade produced an
extraordinary effect upon the motley crowd of all nations assembled at
Balaklava, who were astonished at seeing a lady so well escorted. It was
not so, however, with those who knew who the lady was.
On the road to head-quarters, we met several officers whom I had the
pleasure of knowing in England. All made inquiries respecting the lady
in our party. As I knew that Miss Nightingale wished to preserve her
incognito as much as possible, and especially in the camp, I referred
them to Mr. Bracebridge. At that time the number of the fair sex in the
Crimea numbered four, always excepting the Sisters of Mercy, who were
never seen out.
It took us about half-an-hour to go from the Col of Balaklava to Kadikoi
(about a mile distant), having to fight our way through a dense crowd
of Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Maltese, &c.--hundreds of mules, horses,
donkeys, artillery waggons, cannon, shot and shell, oxen and horses
kicking each other, waggons upset in deep mud-holes, infantry and
cavalry passing and repassing. The road was execrable, and not nearly
wide enough for the immense amount of traffic. Amidst this Babel of
tongues and deafening noise, we were obliged to speak at the top of our
voices in order to make ourselves heard. Our horses, by way of enjoying
the fun, kept prancing and kicking in all directions, particularly our
fair lady’s palfrey, which could not be kept quiet. Many females would
have felt very nervous in such a position; but Miss Nightingale appeared
to rise above such weakness, and even, on the contrary, to take
considerable interest in this her first introduction to the turmoils of
war. We at length emerged from the crowd, without having sustained much
damage. One of our cavaliers had part of his mackintosh carried away by
a log of wood that projected from the back of a mule, and P. M. lost a
strap, which nearly unseated him. His mule kept kicking and prancing
about, which, one is constrained to confess, is not over pleasant,
especially in a crowd--and such a crowd. As we were at last out of
danger, we could not help laughing at the misfortunes of our friends.
Such was our début on the soil of the seat of war.
Our first visit was to the hospital at Kadikoi, in a small Greek church
at the end of the village. Upon our arrival, we were informed that the
doctor was not in, so we promised to call again. We then galloped to the
top of a high hill on the left, on which we could not help making a
halt, as we were quite struck by the grandeur and novelty of the scene.
We could plainly distinguish everything for five miles around us. The
camps, with their myriads of white tents, appeared like large beds of
mushrooms growing at random. The sound of trumpets, the beating of
drums, the roar of cannon from Sebastopol, made a fearful noise, whilst
military manœuvres, and sentries placed in every direction, gave a
most martial aspect to the landscape, backed by the bold and rugged
range of mountains by which Balaklava is surrounded.
Having gazed for some time, highly delighted with the scene, so novel to
us, we proceeded on our journey. As Miss Nightingale wished to see one
of the small regimental hospitals, Doctor Sutherland recommended us to
visit that of the 11th Hussars. We were received by the doctor, who very
kindly showed us over. Miss Nightingale and myself inspected the
kitchen, which, though far from being comfortable or convenient, was, at
all events, very ingeniously contrived. Having made my notes, we called
at two other regiments, and afterwards proceeded direct to
head-quarters. Mr. Bracebridge and myself at once rode to Lord Raglan’s
house, the front of which was crowded with staff officers and gentlemen
on horseback. On asking whether his lordship was within, we were
answered in the negative, and were informed that he would probably not
return before dinner-time. I then inquired for Colonel Steele, his
lordship’s secretary, for whom I also had a letter. That gentleman
received us cordially, and having read Lord Panmure’s letter, promised
to give me his utmost support. Mr. Bracebridge stated he had come to
thank Lord Raglan in Miss Nightingale’s name, for his kind visit of the
day before. I next inquired when I could see Lord Raglan. Colonel Steele
replied, “When you like, Monsieur Soyer, but for a day or two he will be
very much engaged, as he is preparing for the reception of the Sardinian
army, which is shortly expected. Lord Raglan is aware of your arrival,
and I will give orders for anything you may require in order to enable
you to commence operations.”
“As I have a great deal to do at the Balaklava Hospital, I shall
commence operations there, and will call in a few days to see the
Commander-in-Chief.”
“Come whenever you like, Monsieur Soyer; Lord Raglan will be glad to see
you. He has often spoken of you at the dinner-table.”
“Really! I am glad to hear that. I had the honour of knowing his
lordship many years ago.”
“So he was saying.”
After having conversed with several officers whom I knew, I was about to
retire, when Colonel Steele said that he would write a note that
afternoon to the Chief Engineer, ordering him to send me some
carpenters, and give me all the assistance I might require. I thanked
the colonel, and retired.
Mr. Bracebridge had in the meantime joined Miss Nightingale, and
informed her that, owing to Lord Raglan’s absence, he had not mentioned
her intended visit, but merely mentioned his own. Dr. Sutherland then
inquired if Doctor Hall was at home, and on being told he was not, we
started direct to the General Hospital before Sebastopol, in
anticipation of meeting him there. He had, however, been and left. The
chief doctor was also absent on duty, as no previous appointment had
been made. We were shown round by the superintendent. The hospital was
quite full, having at the time about four hundred sick and wounded. The
place was in consequence rather crowded, but, nevertheless, well
ventilated, and everything seemed in good order. Dr. Sutherland made
several remarks upon an improved system of ventilation. I went to see
the kitchen, which I did not find in a better state than the one at the
Sanatorium.
A short time after, Mr. Bracebridge came and informed me that Miss
Nightingale wished to speak with me. Having passed a close review, I was
about returning to our party, when I met Miss Nightingale coming towards
this gipsy cooking encampment, in which there was considerably too much
to do for so important an establishment. We promised to call next day,
or the one following, to see Doctors Taylor and Mouatt, and retired
through a long row of huts. Some of the men had found out that it was
“the good lady of Scutari,” as they called her; for Miss Nightingale was
then but little known by name, it being her first visit to the Crimea. I
heard afterwards, that some of them had been patients at the Scutari
Hospital, and had experienced the full benefit of that benevolent lady’s
kind care and attention. A great number were waiting at the doors--sick
and convalescent--and gave her three hearty cheers as we passed,
followed by three times three. Miss Nightingale seemed much affected by
so unexpected a reception, and, being on horseback, could only bow
gracefully to them by way of returning thanks. Her horse being very
restless, in consequence of the shouts of such a number of men, Mr.
Anderson dismounted, and taking Miss Nightingale’s nag by the bridle,
led it gently along.
We then proceeded through the English and French camps, which, for
miles, surrounded the doomed Sebastopol. The scene, though more
extensive, was not nearly so picturesque as when beheld from the top of
the hill at Balaklava. The afternoon was then drawing on, and Dr.
Sutherland advised us to go home, as it was a very difficult matter for
one to find the way in the dark through the camp; but Mr. Anderson
proposed to have a peep at Sebastopol. It was four o’clock, and they
were firing sharply on both sides. Miss Nightingale, to whom the offer
was made, immediately accepted it; so we formed a column, and, for the
first time, fearlessly faced the enemy, and prepared to go under fire.
P. M. turned round to me, saying quietly, but with great trepidation--
“I say, Monsieur Soyer, of course you would not take Miss Nightingale
where there will be any danger.”
We soon after reached the flag-staff at the head of the Woronzoff Road,
and the sentry informed us we must dismount, as we were in danger, at
the same time pointing to the marks of a number of cannon balls and
splinters of shell, which, he said, they sent whenever they saw a group
of people, especially on horseback. He added that they would send a shot
or a shell in a moment. Fortunately, P. M. did not hear this, or we
should have lost his agreeable company. I mentioned this to Miss
Nightingale and to Mr. Bracebridge, who both laughed heartily.
We then dismounted. The sentry begged of us to go into a kind of
redoubt, built of stone, where there was a telescope. “There,” said he,
“you will be in safety, and have a good view of the town.”
This was true enough; the day being clear, and the sun pouring its rays
on the city, we could plainly discern the large buildings, Greek temple,
church, club-house, hospital, barracks, the harbour of Sebastopol, and
the fortifications--viz., the Malakoff, Redan, Quarantine, Fort
Constantine, and the Flagstaff batteries--and could see every shot sent
by the allied armies as well as by the enemy. The bursting of shells
could easily be distinguished. We were about to retire, when Mr.
Anderson proposed going a couple of hundred yards further--to the
Three-mortar Battery. Miss Nightingale immediately seconded the
proposal, but the sentry strongly objected, saying it was too dangerous;
that only a few days before those mortars had poured a very heavy fire
into the city, and that the Russians kept a good look-out upon them.
“Oh, never mind,” said Mr. Anderson; “I was there two days ago, and they
have no powder to waste upon a few individuals.”
Although I was very anxious to get so far, and to go with them, I could
not help observing to Miss Nightingale that there was a picket in the
Woronzoff Road, to indicate the limits, and it was very imprudent of her
to run such a risk for no purpose. I further remarked that, should any
accident happen to her, no one would pity, but, on the contrary, blame
her--that all the good she had done would fall into oblivion, and she
would scarcely be regretted.
The sentry then repeated his caution, saying, “Madam, even where you
stand you are in great danger; some of the shot reach more than half a
mile beyond this.” Mr. Bracebridge, though of my opinion, did not say
much to dissuade her. The sentry then said, “Well, madam, if you do not
fear risking your life, I cannot prevent your going; but remember that,
if anything happens, I have witnesses to prove that it was not through
my neglect in not informing you of the danger you incur by going to the
Three-mortar Battery.”
“My good young man,” replied Miss Nightingale, in French, “more dead and
wounded have passed through my hands than I hope you will ever see in
the battle-field during the whole of your military career; believe me, I
have no fear of death.” She then started with Mr. Anderson, who was very
impatient at so much time being lost. Mr. Bracebridge and myself
followed. P. M. was still in the redoubt, ensconced behind a gabion,
looking through the telescope, when I suddenly called him. He came
running out, as I had taken him by surprise, and he exclaimed, “I say,
where the deuce are you all going!”
“Oh, not far--only to the second trench.”
“But, my dear sir, there is a great deal of danger.” Taking him by the
arm, Mr. Bracebridge and myself commenced talking upon indifferent
topics, and so got him to advance. As he saw Miss Nightingale before us,
he managed to raise courage enough to keep from running away, while the
cannonading and bursting of shells was heard plainer, and could be seen
much better. He again said, “Why should we go to the trenches? This is
very rash to risk one’s life for nothing; it is what I call giving a
chance away.”
To comfort him, I called Mr. Bracebridge and Miss Nightingale. “P. M.,”
said I, “seems to fancy there is some danger in the trenches, and I wish
to impress upon his mind that there is much less danger there than where
we are”, when a shell came whistling over our heads, and Mr. Anderson
hearing it, cried out, “A shell! a shell!” upon which P. M. immediately
caught me by the shoulders with both hands, and placed himself in a
crouching position behind me, which made us all laugh heartily at his
expense, as the shell was not directed anywhere near us. I have
frequently laughed since with Miss Nightingale at his idea that if the
shell had struck me, he would have been any safer than if he had stood
by himself.
At all events, we arrived in the Three-mortar Battery without accident.
It contained three large mortars, and instead of being two hundred
yards, as Mr. Anderson had called the distance, was full half a mile
from the Flagstaff, going towards Sebastopol, and quite exposed to fire,
had they thought it worth while to play upon us. We had, however, an
excellent view of the besieged city, such as very few amateurs can boast
of having obtained. Before leaving the battery, I begged Miss
Nightingale, as a favour, to give me her hand, which she did. I then
requested her to ascend the stone rampart next the wooden gun carriage,
and lastly, to sit upon the centre mortar, to which requests she very
gracefully and kindly acceded. I then boldly exclaimed, “Gentlemen,
behold this amiable lady sitting fearlessly upon that terrible
instrument of war! behold the heroic daughter of England--the soldier’s
friend!” All present shouted, “Bravo! bravo! hurrah! hurrah! Long live
the daughter of England!”
As the cannonade increased instead of diminishing, this gave a kind of
martial note of approval to our solemn and enthusiastic ceremony.
We then left the spot, again to risk our noble selves, as I observed to
our friend P. M.
“Oh,” said he, “I shall run.”
Upon this I observed, “You may do as you like; but you will thereby
incur more danger, as they will take you for a deserter.”
“Oh, that’s true again; well, but you may say what you like about
bravery--let me tell you, Monsieur Soyer, that I did not bargain for
being brave, and I think the sooner we get out of this the better. Only
listen to the roaring of the cannon.”
We all laughed heartily at his fears and wry faces. Such were never
before seen in the Crimea. At last we regained the redoubt, quite safe
and sound, which the French corporal on duty attributed to their not
thinking it worth while to fire upon us, and partly to the presence of a
lady. He remarked that ladies often came to this spot to get a view, and
that he had never known the enemy to fire while they were present.
“Well,” I replied, “we certainly cannot extol their gallantry too
highly. But can they distinguish persons at this distance from their
camp?”
“Of course they can, from their advanced batteries. Persons coming this
way can be seen plainly five minutes before they reach this spot, unless
they come by the Woronzoff Road.”
The sun was by this time fast sinking in the vast ocean in front of
Sebastopol, giving us to understand that night was about to spread its
gloomy wings over the camp, and that in less than two hours it would
envelope us in its mysterious darkness, as well as the besieged and
their assailants. Alas! how many of those brave fellows who saw that sun
set never beheld it rise again. Such was the subject of our conversation
while remounting our horses, with hearts full of emotion, and of the
awful grandeur of this great war, which, instead of comprising four or
five battles, might well be called a single one, or the hundred battle
war, lasting nearly fifteen months without intermission, excepting only
the few hours when the flag of truce was hoisted, in order that the last
religious rites to the mortal remains of the noble departed might be
performed. Oh war! war! where is thy fair side? Thou art only a
paraphernalia of destruction and misery!
We started at a sharp trot, and were hardly half way to Balaklava when
the dusk of evening was settled over the noisy camps, through which we
were then passing at full gallop. Mr. Anderson, knowing the road, as he
thought, endeavoured to cross the camp by a short cut, when we were
overtaken by night, and lost our way. What with the regiments sounding
their bugles and the drums beating the retreat, it would have puzzled
the coolest head and annoyed the best field-horses. Finding ourselves in
one of the Zouave camps, we inquired of the men in which direction
Balaklava lay. A group of about ten collected round us, and very
politely pointed out the road. It was in a straight line, and not so
much out of the way.
“But,” said they, “you cannot cut across the camp, as this is the first
day we hold the ground, and you are certain to be arrested by the
sentries, and clapped in the violon for the night.” They also informed
us that it was imprudent to gallop through the camp, for if the colonel
was about, or it was reported to him, he would be sure to stop us.
Another exclaimed, in French, “Don’t be afraid, friends; the colonel is
not very severe in cases in which ladies are concerned. The officers are
now devouring their popottes and taking their evening grog. There is no
danger, captain; make the best of your way, as it is getting late, and
there are a set of scamps prowling about who would think nothing of
waylaying you for the sake of a five-franc piece.”
Miss Nightingale, Mr. Bracebridge, and Mr. Anderson were riding slowly
in front; P. M. was anxious to know what the Zouaves said, so I
translated it as above, for the edification of my brave companion. We
then started at a smart pace, but could not come up with our _avant
garde_. We made another halt near a group who were sitting on the grass
close to their tent, playing some game with a set of mutton bones, and
drinking coffee. Others were singing their favourite African song, the
“Beau Zouave d’Afrique--Vlan--sont toujours en
avant--Vlan--Vlan--Rataplan--plan--plan.” Upon inquiring if they had
seen two gentlemen and a lady on horseback, they replied, “Yes,” and
pointed out the road they had taken.
On asking them how they liked camp life, their answer was, “Oh, very
much in Algeria, but not at all here; the weather is so bad, and that
trench business is such dull work. We should prefer a battle once or
twice a-week in the open field to being shot at like so many rabbits in
the trenches.”
Upon asking what they were drinking, they said, “Coffee; would you like
to taste it?” “With great pleasure,” said I. Upon which they gave me
some. It was not bad, but required a little more sugar. “Well,” they
said, “we sometimes buy some, as we are only allowed about enough for
breakfast.” I requested their acceptance of a few shillings to drink _la
goutte_, which one of them immediately refused, saying, “No, no,
Bourgeois; we did not ask you to taste our coffee wishing to make you
pay for it.”
“I know that, my dear fellow; this is to drink our health.”
“We will do that, then, and no mistake.”
“Good evening, my men, and thank you,” said I. P. M. then started off at
a gallop. I immediately stopped him, pretending that if we were seen we
were sure to be locked up all night, our lady fair not being with us,
the colonel would not joke.
“Well,” said he, fiercely, “it would only be for one night, I suppose.”
“Yes, one at least.”
“I should prefer being locked up all night in the guard-house to
venturing in the dark among so many brigands as the Zouaves say there
are roaming about. There we should be in safety; while here we may be
shot at any moment.”
As we were descending a deep ravine, we heard a female voice, and then
the voices of gentlemen. I had no doubt but that these proceeded from
Miss Nightingale and party, who were going slowly down the rocky side of
the ravine. Leaping from our horses, we went faster on foot; and in
about ten minutes succeeded, thanks to the light of the stars, in
catching them. When within hail, I called out, “Who goes there?” The
reply assured me they were our fair lady and her two cavaliers. On our
joining them they said they almost felt afraid that we had been made
prisoners; and Mr. Anderson said he had already given us up. Miss
Nightingale and Mr. Bracebridge were of the same opinion, and they
laughed heartily at P. M.’s description of our dreadful adventure, as he
called it. We were then at the other side of the ravine, and close to a
road which Mr. Anderson recognised as the one leading from Balaklava to
head-quarters.
At last, we were in a fair way of reaching home that night, which P. M.
had long despaired of. The conversation became very animated; and I much
amused Miss Nightingale and party with my recital of what the Zouave had
said respecting his colonel. I also related the coffee business--Miss
Nightingale made particular inquiries as to its quality. Having replied
to her questions, and being a little ahead, I arrived first at the top
of a high hill, and immediately caught sight of the hundreds of lights
in the little low shops at Kadikoi. We were all right at last; but the
road being steep and very greasy, Miss Nightingale’s pony slipped
fearfully, which induced Mr. Anderson, who was nearest to her, to
dismount and lead it down the hill as far as the village. We then passed
through Kadikoi, which presented a different scene to that of the
morning, but still animated, from the groups of Turkish and Greek
labourers returning to their quarters, and a quantity of drunken men
rolling about. We reached the watering-place at the end of the harbour
at last. Miss Nightingale’s pony, which was again led by Mr.
Anderson--this spot being, night and day, full of horses--suddenly
turned round to get to the trough, very nearly throwing Miss Nightingale
off, and probably would have done so, had it not been held by Mr.
Anderson, who received a tremendous knock in the face from the brute’s
head. This accident made him bleed profusely, and gave him a pair of
black eyes. Of this we were not aware until we arrived at the hospital,
and could scarcely believe it when we did.
Miss Nightingale and a doctor attended him immediately; and upon
inquiring when it happened, he coolly replied, “About ten minutes ago,
while we were watering the horses.”
“But,” said Miss Nightingale, “you never mentioned it.”
“Of course not,” he replied; “why should I? it would only have made you
nervous; and I knew that nothing could be done till we arrived here.”
After his wound had been dressed, he declared that the shock was so
violent at the time, he actually thought his head had been split open.
We regretted that, after having gone through such an adventurous day
without accident, a casualty should have happened just at our return.
Our valiant friend, P. M., quietly vowed never to go camp-ranging again,
especially on a mule who was always bolting before or lagging behind,
but never kept parallel with our steeds. Indeed, we called the animal
Clockwork, as, when wound up, he would go fast enough, but when run out,
nothing but re-winding would move him.
A few days after, by the merest chance, I found a leaf from our friend
P. M.’s diary, of which, no doubt, a copy had been sent to his fair
Dulcinea. It read as follows:--
Balaklava, Thursday.--Got up at five o’clock. Off for the day,
accompanying M. Soyer and other friends. My mule very restive.
Accident the first--broke a strap. Weather very hot, water scarce,
wine and beer more so. Ride up a ravine--nearly spilt. Quarrel with
a Bashi-Bazouk. Gallop away from my friends. Splendid view of
head-quarters. Visit the sick and wounded at General Hospital: Miss
Nightingale present--troops greet her with cheers. First glance of
Sebastopol, peeping through the gabions. Dangerous visit to the
Three-gun Battery. A shell! a shell! Barely have time to lie flat
upon the grass. One of our party wounded by a splinter. Dangerous
travelling at night. Take coffee with the Zouaves. Arrive home
safely, but very hungry, after our perilous expedition.
We left Mr. Anderson, the horses were taken from us, and we went on
board the _Robert Lowe_. The captain was in great anxiety about us,
thinking that something had occurred to Miss Nightingale, who, indeed,
appeared much fatigued with her glorious excursion. She made no remark
on the subject; but, on the contrary, requested me to accompany her
early the next morning to both hospitals. This I promised to do with
great pleasure; and so ended that lady’s first visit to the camp
hospitals in the Crimea.
Seven bells was striking--all was silent and at rest in the
harbour--nothing was heard save the noise of the bells from the
different ships, the booming of the cannon at Sebastopol, with now and
then the sharp rattle of musketry, and the gloomy voice of the
sentinel’s challenge--“Who goes there?”
“A friend.”
“Pass, friend. All’s well.”