THE BEGINNING OF THE SIEGE.
Balaclava itself Jack found but a small, uninteresting place; but the
harbour was remarkable, insomuch that looking down upon it from the
precipitous hills by which it was surrounded, it looked like a small
mountain-lake, the entrance being completely masked by a projecting
headland. A vessel might sail past the entrance a hundred times without
suspecting the existence of a harbour. Once inside, however, the biggest
vessels could ride securely at anchor within a stone’s-throw of the
shore, which rose abruptly from the water’s edge, leaving only a narrow
ledge on which the town was built.
The little valley leading from the plain to the head of the harbour was
full of gardens, vineyards, and orchards. The streets of the town itself
were narrow and crooked; the houses built of loose stones, with wooden
verandas and balconies. There were, however, one or two public buildings
which were soon turned to account as hospitals and so on.
The town of Sebastopol seemed to lie at the feet of the Allies, and many
wondered why they did not walk in and drive out the Russian garrison;
but these forgot that the town was dominated by the forts and by the
ships in the harbour, and that although the Allies might get in easily
enough they would be unable to remain there.
The rumours of carrying the place by assault soon died away, and it
became evident that a siege was intended, though the place could not be
completely invested. The task of landing siege-trains and stores was
begun, and these had to be hauled up six or seven miles from Balaclava
to the front. There was an almost utter absence of wagons or horses, and
every old ammunition-cart and beast capable of work was pressed into the
service.
From the fleet large numbers of sailors were landed, and these, with the
reckless jollity and hearty go that distinguish sailors, dragged their
great guns up into the batteries that were being formed. Often the
ship’s fiddler would sit astride the gun as his messmates hauled on to
the ropes, and to some chanty, with many strange phrases and nautical
expressions, dragged their guns along at a great pace. The infantry
regiments were assigned to their different positions, and early in
October the first trenches were opened.
The Russians began to regain something of their confidence, and made
several sorties at night, in some of which they achieved a measure of
success.
Jack was kept busy with his regiment, amongst which, as amongst the rest
of the army, cholera was still raging and claiming many victims.
Enormous exertions were made by the French and British, and by the
middle of October they had between them a hundred and twenty-six pieces
of artillery in position.
On the morning of the 17th, while Jack and his comrades were ‘standing
to their horses’ as usual an hour before daybreak, with an absolutely
deafening roar the French and English batteries opened fire. The first
great bombardment had begun. Every now and then a sixty-eight pound shot
came plump down into the ground just behind the cavalry, who were
presently dismissed to their lines.
After breakfast Jack was sent with a letter to the officer commanding
Lord Raglan’s escort. The commander-in-chief had left Balaclava and
taken up his quarters in a snug farmhouse surrounded by vineyards and
outbuildings, and situated about four miles from the town. Jack, having
delivered his letter, was told to wait, which he was very willing to do,
for he got a splendid view of the bombardment. He could see the
Lancaster and the mortar batteries in the right and left attacks, and
the French away on the left. The Russian gunners were plainly visible in
their batteries, and they were maintaining a tremendous fire; while,
from the harbour, shot and shell from the six hundred pieces of cannon
on the French and English fleets poured in their fire upon Sebastopol.
The sight was grand--magnificent; the noise simply appalling. It seemed
as if Sebastopol must crumble into dust beneath the fury of shot hurled
into it; but although nine batteries were destroyed the enemy still kept
up a powerful resistance.
Presently the fire, as though by mutual consent, slackened on both
sides; then it broke out again with renewed fury. Suddenly a tremendous
explosion took place in one of the French batteries. Guns, carriages,
parts of the embrasures, and upwards of a hundred men were blown to
fragments. A magazine had been exploded. The Russians yelled with joy,
and could be seen jumping on to their parapets, waving rammers in the
air. The fire of the English batteries, though, soon gave them something
else to think about; but the fire of the French batteries slackened and
soon their guns were almost silent. The French men-of-war, however,
fired more furiously than ever, and so it went on till towards midday a
second magazine was exploded in the French lines.
Soon afterwards a tremendous explosion took place in the centre of
Sebastopol, doing immense damage, and later on the Redan was almost
shattered by a similar explosion, and so the awful duel went on till
night, when both sides ceased from sheer weariness.
The Allies had a loss together of about three hundred men, but they did
infinitely greater damage to the Russians, amongst others killing their
gallant defender, Korniloff. After that, day by day, an almost incessant
duel was kept up, the big guns roaring and thundering from morning till
night. Men were killed in the batteries and in the trenches daily, the
latter being most difficult to dig in the hard, stony ground. The earth
for gabions and sandbags had to be carried from a distance in baskets to
the place required, an arduous and dangerous work.
But more deadly by far than the shot and shell of the enemy were the
ravages of the cholera, and in the first three weeks before Sebastopol
the army lost more men and officers than had fallen at the Alma--a
terrible toll.[4] Balaclava was crowded with invalids; hundreds were
sent away daily to Scutari; yet more and more came, till they had to be
left dying in the streets for want of accommodation.
Among the victims was St Arnaud, the French commander-in-chief, who was
succeeded by General Canrobert, a much abler man.
The ‘Death or Glory Boys’ suffered with the others, and the regiment was
only a shadow of its former self. Captain Norreys being on the staff,
and Major Willett ill at Balaclava, Captain Wintle was in command.
‘What’s the use,’ growled Linham one morning when, after the usual hour
of standing under arms, the cavalry had been dismissed for
breakfast--‘what’s the use of bringing cavalry to a place like this I
want to know?’
‘Just to give you something to grumble at, Jimmy,’ said Sergeant
Barrymore.
‘Well, I’ve got cause enough here,’ said Linham. ‘Seven months’
campaigning, and never anything for us to do that a militiaman on a
donkey couldn’t have done as well. Sent to the most unhealthy places
they could find, and, to wind up with, a prospect of winter under canvas
in a hole like this with nothing to do but escort sick and wounded or
haul stores up from Balaclava. What’s the use of cavalry here, that’s
what I want to know.’
‘Never mind, sergeant, I’ll get you a cup of coffee made directly,’ said
Jack as he unsaddled Dainty.
‘And I’ll grub about for a bit of wood,’ said Will; ‘that commodity is
getting uncommonly scarce.’
Jack took a pail and went off to the river for the water. Several others
were bent on the same errand, and all had filled their buckets and were
on their way back to the camp when suddenly there was a shrill, horrible
screaming overhead, and something fell with a crash just in front of
them.
‘Shell! Down all of you!’ cried a man of the 11th Hussars; and Jack
threw himself flat on his face.
In an instant there was a blinding flash, a terrific roar, and the earth
seemed almost to quake. For a few seconds no one moved; then,
half-dazed, they raised up their heads and slowly got on their feet.
Jack found he was drenched with water from his pail and covered with
earth, otherwise he was not hurt, nor were any of the others; but his
pail had disappeared, having been blown clean away. In front of them was
a hole big enough to have buried a horse in.
‘That was a close call,’ said the man of the 11th Hussars.
‘A bit too close,’ said Jack; ‘but I must have some water. Will any one
lend me enough from his pail to fill our pot?’
‘Come back with me and help to fill mine again, chum,’ said the Hussar,
‘and I’ll give you some out of it.’
Jack’s pot was thus filled, and presently he sat down beside the fire
Will had managed to make, and thought for a moment over his escape.
‘What’s up, Jack? You look as solemn as if you were going to your own
funeral,’ said Will, who was trying to roast some green coffee-berries
on a mess-tin.
‘I did jolly nearly go just now,’ said Jack; and he related what had
happened.
‘Whew!’ whistled Will, ‘that’s too near to be pleasant. I thought I
heard a shell pass pretty close. But give me a hand with the grinding,
will you?’
The scorched berries were put into a piece of an old exploded five-inch
shell, and then with a couple of nine-pounder balls the trumpeters
crushed them up, finally emptying them into the pot when the water
boiled. They at last succeeded in making a greasy sort of
browny-coloured liquid, having fragments of berries floating about on
the top of it, and this, with some hard biscuit, was to form their
breakfast.
They had hardly, however, tasted this beverage, which, poor stuff that
it was, was more than welcome, when _bang! bang!_ rang out a couple of
carbines.
All jumped to their feet, and Pearson, looking down the valley, said,
‘There’s something up, the vedettes are retiring and circling left, and
here comes an orderly.’
A Dragoon was seen coming towards the light cavalry camp at full gallop;
then the trumpets in the heavy cavalry camp were heard sounding
boot-and-saddle, and the Scots Greys with a troop of horse artillery
were seen galloping to the front.
The guns in the Turkish redoubts opened fire and the trumpets of the
light cavalry sounded boot-and-saddle.
Jack and Will took up the call, and in a few minutes Lancers and Hussars
were trotting down the valley, leaving their breakfast behind them.
When they arrived at the Turkish redoubts it was seen that a large body
of Russian infantry had debouched from the ravine and taken up a
position some two thousand yards away on the left front. Cossacks
appeared on the ridges, and it seemed as if an advance were intended. A
couple of hours passed however, and nothing further happened, then the
English cavalry returned, all but one regiment which remained watching
the enemy, being relieved in a couple of hours by another one.
Sergeant Linham cursed the Russians most heartily. ‘It’s just one of
their dirty tricks,’ he said, ‘to keep us hanging about in the saddle
for two or three hours, cold and starving, then to draw off, doing
nothing.’
At night the watch-fires of the Russians could be plainly seen, and the
cavalry were kept under arms; but in the morning the enemy had entirely
disappeared, a fact about which there were a good many things Sergeant
Linham ‘wanted to know.’