THE FIRST BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY.
The morning broke bright and beautiful. At six o’clock the vast array of
ships was under way again and approaching closer to the coast, towards
which every eye was eagerly turned.
Cornet Leland was gazing through his glass at the plains and marshes
when he suddenly exclaimed, ‘By Jove! those are Cossacks, or I’m a
Dutchman.’
‘Where, sir--where?’ asked Jack, who stood beside him.
The cornet handed Jack his glasses.
‘I see them--a patrol; little chaps armed with long lances and mounted
on shaggy ponies. Hurrah!’
The news that Cossacks were in sight ran through the vessel, and a
hearty cheer broke out.
Later in the day anchor was dropped in Kalamita Bay, christened
afterwards by the men ‘Calamity Bay.’ The place of landing was a long
stretch of shingly beach, a lake about a mile long lying some two
hundred yards inland. The English called the place ‘Old Fort.’
Next morning at daybreak disembarkation commenced. The infantry of the
Light Division had the honour of landing first; and, as it was quite
possible their landing might be opposed, they were prepared. Each man
had his blanket and greatcoat strapped to his back, a spare pair of
boots and socks, three days’ rations, and fifty rounds of ammunition.
As the soldiers came creeping down the ladders to the boats, the jolly
tars in the most solicitous fashion looked after and assisted them,
taking their rifles, helping them to remove their knapsacks, which were
stowed away under the seats, and patting them on the back and telling
them not to be ‘afeerd of the waves!’ At last, on a signal from the
flagship, the boats dashed for the shore. In an instant the sea was
alive with launches, gigs, and cutters all racing as if for life.
Thundering cheers burst from those still left on board, who watched the
scene with keen interest.
The French had started at the same instant as the English, and it seemed
to be a race between them. The French boats were, however, lighter and
carried fewer men, and it was seen that one shot ahead of the rest. She
had only about a dozen men aboard, and, manned by a powerful crew, she
flew through the water and reached the shore first.
A great cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ burst from the French, and Sergeant
Barrymore ground his teeth in rage.
‘Confound those froggies!’ he cried savagely; ‘they want to be first in
everything where they can make a bit of show; we shall see whether
they’re as anxious to be first at the cannon’s mouth.’
Long before the French had hoisted their tricolour an English boatload
of Fusiliers had landed, and the officer sprang ashore, waving his
sword. The rest of his regiment followed and were at once formed up,
when they advanced in skirmishing order.
Seeing this, Jack said, ‘We’re the first to commence business anyway.’
From then the men poured on the beach, which literally swarmed with
red-coats, and presently the turn of the cavalry and artillery came to
land. The sailors were here of the utmost service with the guns and the
restive horses, and many accidents must have occurred had it not been
for their herculean efforts and extraordinary care.
Jack’s troop was the first to get to land, and the men were immediately
formed up and sent on as a support to Sir George Brown, who had pushed
forward with a few Fusiliers and Riflemen to take possession of a ridge
ahead and to reconnoitre the country. Sir George, being mounted, got
ahead of the infantry, and with the exception of a sergeant and two men,
who had kept up with him, was quite alone.
Cornet Leland hurried up his Lancers, and was about a hundred yards from
the General when suddenly a Russian officer and a patrol of Cossacks
were seen on the ridge ahead. They were only visible for a moment; then
they disappeared again behind the ridge.
Cornet Leland had, however, seen them, and cried out, ‘The General will
be killed or captured! First two sections unsling lances and follow me!’
The horses, cramped with the voyage, could not move very fast, and ere
they could reach the General, who was very short-sighted, the Cossacks
were seen swooping down on his flank to cut off his retreat.
‘17th, follow me! Charge!’ cried Leland; and, wheeling his horse, he
made straight for the Cossacks.
The sight of the English Lancers took the Russians by surprise, and, as
though by common consent, they reined in their shaggy ponies. The waving
pennons and flashing lance-points were too much for them, and they
suddenly wheeled and galloped madly away towards Sebastopol, receiving
a few shots from the French skirmishers on their right as they passed
them.
Sir George Brown looked at the Lancer officer as he saluted with his
sword.
‘Bless my soul!’ he said in perfectly unconcerned tones; ‘lucky you were
here; my bad eyesight will get me into trouble some day. I really must
wear glasses!’
The rest of Jack’s troop came up, and then Sir George led them some
distance inland, Cornet Leland keeping his eyes well about him. On
rounding a sort of promontory they came in sight of a road leading
inland, and there, before their very eyes, was a long line of wagons,
driven by native drivers and escorted by a number of Cossacks.
‘A convoy, Sir George--a convoy!’ cried Leland excitedly.
‘Wagons,’ murmured the General; ‘the very thing we want.’
‘Give me permission to charge with my troop and the wagons are yours,
General,’ said Leland.
The General looked wistfully at the wagons; then said, ‘You haven’t got
forty men with you.’
‘We’re a match for double that number,’ replied Leland; ‘let us go in,
Sir George.’
‘It’s the true spirit of the old Peninsula days,’ said Sir George; ‘go
in, my boy, and win. Attack them from each side.’
Cornet Leland turned to his troop, his face beaming with pleasure.
‘Form ranks from the right!’ he cried. ‘Sergeant Barrymore, take the
right column; the left follow me! Trot march!’
In a very few seconds the two lines of Lancers were bearing down on the
astonished Russians, who never dreamed that such a handful of men would
have the impudence to attack them. Before they had recovered from their
surprise the Lancers were close to them.
Then those Cossacks who marched in rear of the wagons faced about,
formed in double column, and prepared to receive their enemy. They fired
a sputtering volley; but the bullets flew wide, and only one man and two
horses were hit.
‘Gallop!’ shouted Cornet Leland, waving his sword; and Jack, who was
just behind him, wheeled his horse to the right so as to come abreast of
his officer.
Williams, who was riding behind Sergeant Barrymore, did the same, and so
the front rank of four, two armed with swords, for Jack had drawn his,
and two with lances, thundered down upon the Cossacks. Having fired
their volley, these remained halted in a sort of confusion as though not
knowing what to do. Many of them did not even take their lances from the
rests, but sat staring at the advancing English. They had little time to
consider the situation further; the Lancers came crashing in amongst
them, unhorsing several and scattering the others. For a few moments
there was a mêlée of stabbing lances, whirling swords and plunging
horses.
Cornet Leland had ridden straight at a red-faced, snub-nosed officer,
the red cord on whose coarse green uniform was edged with gold lace; but
the fellow reined aside from the officer and faced the trumpeter. He
made a point at Jack with his crooked sabre, but Jack parried the blade
with ease. In return he delivered cut two with all his might; but to
his astonishment his blade, falling on the shoulder of the Russian, was
turned aside by the coarse red cloth. The snub-nosed Cossack, with a
sort of hissing grunt, then drew a pistol from his holster, and,
levelling it at Jack’s head, fired, missing him only by a
hand’s-breadth. Next moment a Lancer behind Jack drove his lance through
the Russian’s arm, and the fight was ended.
The two lines of Lancers galloped on along the sides of the wagons,
slashing and thrusting at the Cossacks. These seemed paralysed by the
very audacity of the attack, and galloped off, pursued by the victorious
Lancers till Cornet Leland ordered Jack to sound the recall. Then the
men, puffed with their exertions, came trotting back.
The wretched _araba_[1] drivers were on their knees begging for mercy,
expecting every moment to be pierced by the long lances. When they found
that they were kindly treated they grovelled on the ground, which spoke
volumes for the fashion in which the Russians had treated them.
The total capture was forty-two wagons loaded with provisions; some
drawn by two horses, some by three or four. Sir George was delighted
with the capture, and the handful of Lancers returned in great spirits,
being greeted with cheers from the troops who had already assembled on
the beach.
No other cavalry had been landed; and, as Jack’s troop off-saddled,
Barrymore said, ‘What did you think of your first skirmish, Jack?’
‘I thought it was fine fun,’ replied Jack, ‘and I hope I shall see more
such.’
‘I don’t think it would have been quite such fun for you, Jack,’ said
Pearson, who had overheard the remark, ‘if I hadn’t been just behind you
and skewered that snub-nosed Cossack officer with my lance. I fancy if
he had got another cut in at you you would have lost the number of your
mess to-night.’
‘Then my grateful thanks are due to you,’ said Jack; and they fell to
eating their evening meal.
The sky had got very black and the wind moaned in fitful gusts. The men
had been landed without tents or baggage of any kind, and they had to
bivouac on the bare ground. The rain fell in torrents, and in their thin
uniforms the men were soon drenched to the skin. Besides which, the
night was wretchedly cold, with a wind that seemed to penetrate to the
very marrow of their bones. Grumbling was heard on all sides, mingled,
alas! with the groans of poor fellows who, thoroughly ill and weakened
from their long stay at the camps of Aladyn and Devna, grew rapidly
worse during the exposure of that terrible night, and who ere long had
met that most inglorious of soldiers’ fates, death by disease.
Jack tried several times to sleep; but each time he awoke, wet and
shivering, to find himself lying in a pool of water. At last he got up
and walked about, passing the remainder of the night nestling close to
Dainty, who was fully as uncomfortable as was her master.