JACK SHOWS HIS METTLE.
On the day following the capture of the convoy the campaign was begun in
earnest. On that day, September 19th, the Allies began their memorable
march from Old Fort, their landing-place, to Sebastopol.
The whole army marched, baggage, ammunition, commissariat, and invalids.
There was no base to fall back on. If attacked, the column must fight
and conquer; death or total surrender were the only alternatives. Lord
Raglan was taking a grave and terrible risk; but he had no option.
Jack’s colonel had to be left behind. He had struggled long against the
ravages made upon his constitution during their stay at Varna and Devna;
but he had at last to succumb, and the day after the army began its
march he had to be sent on board and invalided to England.
The loss of the colonel was a great blow to Linham, who in his grumbling
way said more than once, ‘No good will come of a campaign begun so
badly.’
The morning of the advance was a beautiful one. The sun shone hotly, but
was tempered by a cool sea-breeze. The ground over which the troops
moved was undulating and covered with a sweet-smelling herb which gave
off a pleasing aroma as it was crushed under the feet and hoofs of the
marching thousands.
The British army moved in such a formation that it could array itself
for battle in a very few minutes, and it presented a magnificent sight
to the beholder.
Jack and his regiment marched in rear of the left flank, and on crossing
a slight ridge a splendid view of the whole army was obtained.
On the extreme right was the sea, sparkling and dancing in the sunlight.
Riding on its waters and advancing majestically, keeping just abreast of
the allied army, were the French and English fleets.
Beside the shore marched the French divisions in column, their weapons
sparkling and colours waving. Behind them came the Turks. On their left,
in the post of danger, their front and flank open to attack, came the
British army in battle array. The advance-guard was formed of the 11th
Hussars and 13th Light Dragoons, with an infantry battalion. A long line
of nimble, green-clad Riflemen in skirmishing order followed. Four grand
divisions of scarlet-coated infantry, massed in close columns, with
their accompanying batteries of artillery, formed the main body, the
baggage and cattle being in rear.
On the left flank there was another line of skirmishers of the Rifles,
two hundred yards from the main body; outside them again came the 8th
Hussars on the left front; the 17th, as already stated, on the left
rear; while the 4th Light Dragoons formed the rear-guard.
The sun sparkled on arms and accoutrements, colours waved in the air,
uniforms of every colour met the eye as far as it would reach; the
whole, while the bands pealed forth their brazen music, forming such a
picture of martial glory as few men are privileged to behold.
The march continued. Soon the bands ceased playing. Then stragglers
began to fall out of the ranks. Poor fellows, worn with sickness and
privation, they were absolutely unable to stand the strain of a march of
a few miles.
Many of Jack’s comrades tried to urge the stragglers to keep up. Alas!
it was but too clearly evident by the blackened, swollen faces of many
of those who fell out that they were in the last throes of cholera. They
had to be left where they fell, for nothing could be done for them.
Others of the stragglers fell out from sheer weakness and exhaustion,
and these were told that the Cossacks would overtake and spear them did
they not keep up. Not a man, however, gave up until he could go no
longer, and then no threats were of any avail.
The ground became littered with arms and accoutrements--bearskins,
shakos, belts, knapsacks, and rifles; with that, and the figures of the
men who had fallen from the ranks, the country over which the troops had
passed resembled a field on which a pitched battle had been fought. The
spirits of the men drooped, their faces took on a dogged look; but their
enthusiasm was gone. The glory of the morning was over.
As the hours dragged on another terrible hardship afflicted the poor
soldiers. A maddening, burning thirst consumed them, yet not a drop of
water was to be had.
Sergeant Linham, who had suffered all the horrors of thirst in India,
chewed a bullet grimly. ‘It’s the first taste of real war the youngsters
have had,’ he said. ‘It isn’t the fighting--that’s nothing. It’s the
starving and marching, lying on the ground all night in pouring rain or
snow, the freezing and the burning--that’s war. Fighting, pah! that’s
the only pleasant part of war.’
The advance became slower, the numbers falling from the ranks larger,
till in the afternoon a great shout went up in front, and the column
halted.
The advance-guard had reached the river Bulganak, their halting-place;
and, heedless of discipline, the thirst-maddened soldiers rushed forward
and buried their faces in the cool, clear waters running between
fertile, grassy banks.
In due course Jack’s regiment arrived at the water, and both men and
horses drank their fill.
The Hussars and Light Dragoons, who had formed the advance-guard, had,
at the orders of Lord Raglan, crossed the river. Some of the enemy’s
cavalry had been seen, and the commander-in-chief, determined to satisfy
himself that his army could rest in comparative safety, had gone forward
with the cavalry to reconnoitre the position.
Jack’s regiment, having assuaged their thirst, ate part of the ration
which had been served out to them; then flung themselves on the ground,
under the shadow of the trees, to enjoy a nap or a smoke.
Jack, having drunk his fill, carrying his lance-cap in his hand, joined
a group of trumpeters.
‘Hallo, Jack,’ cried Tom Gallon, ‘who’s been ducking your head?’
“I ducked myself, Tom,’ answered Jack, ‘to cool my mighty brain. Phew,
it’s hot!’
Bill Parkes laughed. ‘I remember the first time you ever put on a
lance-cap,’ he said, ‘you thought you looked mighty fine.’
‘And I remember what you said at the time, Bill:
“Wait till you’ve worn one for six hours on a broiling hot day.”’
‘Well, you’ve had your chance to-day,’ laughed Parkes.
Jack threw off the heaviest part of his accoutrements and seated himself
with his comrades. A group of officers sat just by them, and Jack could
not help being struck by the change the campaign had already made in
their appearance. The gay uniforms, sodden with rain, stained with mud,
and often torn, were tarnished and frayed. Their scabbards and spurs
were rusty, and their faces disfigured by beards of many days’ growth.
Worse than all, however, was the fact that not one of them had enjoyed a
change of linen for a week, for every man had landed in what he stood up
in and no more, even the pelisses of the 8th Hussars being left behind
on shipboard; nor did the regiment ever see them again, for they went
down in Balaclava harbour during the great storm of 14th November.
As Jack was looking he observed a staff-officer gallop up to the little
group. He spoke hurriedly for a few moments; then Major Willett,
commanding the 17th, jumping to his feet, looked over towards the
trumpeters, and beckoned to Jack. Seizing his bugle, Jack ran over,
buttoning up his jacket on the way.
‘Sound the alarm at once!’ the major cried.
Jack rang out the call.
‘What’s up?’ asked Will.
‘Goodness knows!’ replied Jack as he buckled on his sword and ran
towards Dainty; ‘but from the haste with which those Hussar officers are
making for their own men it’s something pretty urgent, I should think.’
At that moment the trumpets of the 8th rang out, and in less than three
minutes the two regiments were mounted. The Lancers leading, at a trot
they made for the bridge, across which they clattered just as the bugles
of the infantry Light Division behind them were heard sounding the
fall-in.
The ground on the other side of the river rose in a succession of ridges
right up to the heights looking down on the Bulganak. The Lancers
rapidly mounted the first ridge, and as they did so Russian vedettes
were seen upon the heights in front. On mounting the second ridge a
curious sight met their gaze. On the level ground before them were the
11th Hussars and 13th Light Dragoons drawn up in beautiful lines, their
officers in front, all sitting as perfectly still as though on parade at
home. Facing them, on the hill above, was a vast body of Russian horse,
Hussars, Dragoons, and Cossacks, some thousands strong. They were
throwing out skirmishers, who, as the Lancers came up, opened fire with
their carbines but apparently did no damage. The British cavalry took no
more notice of being fired at than though the Russians had been blowing
peas at them.
On the northern side of the hollow sat Lord Raglan and his staff. The
8th Hussars and 17th Lancers were ordered to form up in rear of the two
regiments already in position, and this they did as quietly and orderly
as though at Hounslow or Canterbury.
The officers dressed the ranks. ‘Eyes left!’ ‘Up a little, Private
Jones!’ ‘Back, Thompson--rein back a little. That’s better. Halt! Eyes
front! Slope lances!’ And all this under a smart fire!
The Russians began manœuvring, but seemed more inclined to draw the
British cavalry from their position than to charge down upon them.
‘I wonder what we’re going to do?’ said Jack excitedly to Pearson. ‘Why
don’t they let us charge? The ground’s lovely, and I’ll bet we should
roll those fellows up like fun.’
‘We’d have a good try,’ said Pearson, biting his fair moustache in his
excitement as he fixed the chain of his headdress tightly on the point
of his chin.
After a little time the Light Division of infantry came marching into
the plain, their white-slashed scarlet coats making a brilliant patch of
colour. The infantry were formed into line behind the cavalry, and
presently, at a smart trot, a nine-pounder battery came swinging along
and took post on the right of the infantry, while a six-pounder battery
took ground beside the cavalry.
All this while the Russians remained inactive, like interested
spectators.
Excitement rose to a high pitch amongst the British, who expected every
moment to hear the artillery open fire; but when the whole force had
been posted a General came galloping up from Lord Raglan, and seemed to
be holding an animated discussion with Lord Lucan, commanding the
cavalry. This lasted some time, and then Lord Lucan was seen to give an
order to his brigadier, Lord Cardigan.
‘The ball’s going to commence,’ said Pearson to Jack, ‘and we’ll teach
these Russians a new dance if I’m not much mistaken.’
Words of command rang out in front, and the 11th Hussars were seen to be
on the move, but not towards the enemy. By successive squadrons they
moved, slowly and ceremoniously, and reformed behind the supporting
squadrons, always leaving two squadrons facing the enemy. The Light
Dragoons followed suit, and it became evident that retreat was the order
of the day. An exclamation of regret burst from the Lancers, which was
instantly repressed by the officers.
No sooner, however, did the Russians see that the English cavalry was
not going to advance than a rapid movement began. Their squadrons opened
right and left and wheeled away, when two batteries of artillery came
bounding up to the top of the ridge facing the British, hurriedly
unlimbered, and opened fire. At the same time clouds of Riflemen topped
the hills and began a hot fusillade.
‘By George, we’re in for it, after all!’ said Jack to Pearson as a
round-shot came whizzing over his head and struck the ground just behind
him.
Mixed with the hum of round-shot came the vicious scream of shells, and
presently one or two men and horses went down.
All this while Jack’s regiment and the 8th were kept perfectly still,
while the regiments which had been in their front retired by squadrons
behind them.
The 11th Hussars were just wheeling by Jack’s troop when a shell came
screaming by and entered the body of a horse of the Hussars. It struck
with a sickening squelch and then exploded, a horrible heap on the
ground being all that remained of what a moment before had been a smart
cavalryman. A second later a round-shot caught another Hussar on the
foot, which it carried clean away. The gallant soldier glanced down and
shifted himself in the saddle so as to retain his balance.
‘It’s only my foot,’ he said calmly; ‘the doctor’ll soon put that
right;’ and he went on with his squadron.
Jack’s regiment was then in front, and round-shot and shell, to say
nothing of musket-balls, began to whiz about them. The round-shot could
be distinctly seen coming, and the men ducked as though to avoid them,
though they often went twenty feet above their heads.
‘Don’t duck, boys--don’t duck,’ said Sergeant Linham, who sat apparently
quite unconcerned, looking about him. ‘If a shot’s coming for you no
amount of ducking will make it miss you, and in India it wasn’t
considered the thing for men to bob about. Remember the motto of the
regiment. Ha, hum!’
Not another man moved, and presently a round-shot came plump in among
them.
‘Hallo!’ cried a dozen voices, ‘Benson’s down! he’s killed! No, he’s up!
Hallo, Fred! are you hurt?’
‘Shook up a bit,’ said the Lancer in a dazed voice; ‘but the nag’s done
for, I’m afraid;’ and that was true, for the poor animal’s head had been
completely smashed by the shot.
The fire under which the cavalry still sat was getting very hot, when a
trumpet rang out and the six-pounder battery with them opened fire. This
seemed, however, to have little effect; then the nine-pounder battery
opened, and their shells were seen to be exploding among the Russian
cavalry and doing much damage. Presently a shell struck the limber of
one of the Russian guns, which it exploded, just as another shell
struck one of the guns, overturning it and killing several of the
gunners.
By that time Jack’s regiment was the only one under fire, being left as
a support to the nine-pounder battery.
Suddenly a move was made by the Russians. Several squadrons of sky-blue
coated Hussars came rapidly down and made straight for the English guns.
‘By Jingo, they’re going to try and capture the battery!’ said Cornet
Leland.
Hardly were the words out of his mouth than the orderly trumpeter
sounded, and the regiment moved off at a trot to take ground on its
right, so as to cover the threatened guns.
The Russians, contrary to their usual rule, came on boldly, and it was
soon evident they meant to charge.
Instantly the officer commanding the Lancers took in the situation. The
Russians must be held in check or they would in a few minutes overtake
the slow-moving artillery. A few sharp orders were given; then the
Lancers advanced at a trot. At a hundred yards’ distance the pace was
increased, and Major Willett shouted, ‘Come on, boys! Charge!’
Then, with knees well-pressed in, bodies eagerly bent forward, and
lances levelled, the English squadrons rode down upon the enemy.
With a crash they met the sky-blue Hussars, and for an instant they
glared into one another’s faces. The Russians had a curiously set
expression on theirs as though of pain; but it was probably only intense
excitement. The Lancers had but little time to note their enemies’
faces, however. Heavier men and better mounted, the immense superiority
of the lance over the sword in shock-tactics showed itself, and the
Russians were hurled back. The Lancers would have pursued; but at that
instant Captain Norreys saw a battalion of infantry marching down upon
his flank. At the same time the recall was being constantly sounded, so
Captain Norreys gave the word to his squadron.
No sooner had they turned their backs to the enemy than the guns on the
ridge opened on them, and shells began to plump amongst them; several
casualties occurred, and Captain Norreys ground his teeth.
‘I’d like to go in at those fellows,’ he cried, turning in his saddle
and shaking his sword savagely at the guns; but the recall was still
being sounded, and so he gave the word to his men to trot.
Hardly had they started when two shells burst in amongst them, and Tommy
Gallon, who had been riding in the rear near his captain, was seen lying
on the ground. The squadron went on; but Jack, seeing his friend down,
galloped his horse towards him, and, though under a heavy fire of both
artillery and musketry, dismounted and raised his friend’s head.
‘Tommy, old boy, where are you hurt?’ asked Jack.
For answer, poor Tom Gallon pointed to his left arm. It seemed to be
smashed. He had been struck by a splinter of shell, which had first
killed his horse, then smashed his left forearm.
‘You must get on my horse, Tom,’ said Jack desperately.
‘No, no; leave me, Jack,’ said the wounded trumpeter. ‘See, the troop is
retreating, and, ah--look! the Russians are on us.’
This was the case, for the Russian Hussars had hung on to the rear of
the Lancers. Seeing the two trumpeters, several of them were trotting
up, brandishing their swords.
‘I’ll save you or die with you, Tom,’ said Jack grimly; and he grasped
his sword firmly.
The Russians came circling round, making a curious hissing noise, some
slashing at Jack, while others bent over in their saddles and tried to
reach the wounded trumpeter with their points.
‘Cowards! brutes!’ cried Jack furiously, ‘to try and kill a wounded
man!’
But the Russians, supremely ignorant of what he said, continued their
attack, Jack keeping them off by performing the moulinet with his sabre.
He felt himself slightly wounded once or twice; but he had determined to
be cut to pieces rather than desert his fellow-trumpeter.
A very stout, dark-visaged Russian, getting behind Gallon, made a point
with his sword and thrust it into his back; and, hearing his comrade’s
moan, Jack, mad with fury, was just in time to see the coward withdraw
his weapon. Jack seized the Hussar’s bridle; but the fellow cut him down
over the head, then spurred his horse and dragged Jack off his feet.
Another moment would have settled his fate for ever; but a thunder of
hoofs sounded, and Pearson, returning to the rescue of the trumpeters,
caught the cowardly Russian just between the shoulder-blades with his
lance and completely transfixed him. It was of no use trying to withdraw
the weapon, so the gallant trooper let go and drew his sword, with which
he cut another foe from his saddle.
Williams, Brandon, and several others, seeing the danger of their
comrades, came galloping back, and the Russians immediately retired.
Jack and Tom
[Illustration: Pearson caught the cowardly Russian just between the
shoulder-blades.
PAGE 162
]
Gallon were lifted up in strong arms and soon conveyed out of danger;
but Jack swooned from loss of blood on the way, nor did he recover till
he found himself lying on his back, his face and head wet, while
somebody held & water-bottle to his lips.