‘THE THIN RED LINE.’
The booming of that first gun from Redoubt No. 1 was the opening note
heralding in a day that will live long in the history of Britain. The
first report was followed quickly by others, both from the first and
other redoubts, and the vedettes came in at a smart trot.
An enormous force of Russians, horse, foot, and artillery, was advancing
upon Balaclava, they said. After events showed that twenty-five
battalions, thirty-four squadrons, and seventy-eight guns, nearly
twenty-five thousand men in all, was the actual number.
The guns from the Turkish redoubts were quickly replied to by a
tremendous fire from several Russian batteries. The picket was ordered
to fall back towards the camp.
The whole of the Light Brigade had stood to their horses an hour before
daybreak as usual, and had just received the command, ‘File to your
lines!’ when the guns of No. 1 Redoubt opened fire. They immediately
received orders to mount and advance, meeting Jack’s troop on their way.
The whole were then halted with a troop of horse artillery, just to the
right of No. 3 Redoubt, under the southern slopes of the Causeway
Heights. Here they got a good view of what was going on.
On their right front dense masses of Russians, having silenced with
their artillery the guns in No. 1 Redoubt, were advancing to the
attack, while other columns were preparing to storm Canrobert’s Hill. On
their right flank was Balaclava, the slight defence in front of it being
held by the Royal Marines, a hill to the left of Kadikoi being crested
by Sir Colin Campbell with the 93rd Highlanders. The heavy cavalry was
on the right of the Light Brigade. The Fedioukine Hills on the left
front, across the Woronzoff Road, were crowded with Russian infantry and
cavalry, while Lord Raglan with his staff had taken up a position to the
left rear on the Sapoune Ridge.
Jack had hardly time to take in all these details when a sort of
guttural yell in front, accompanied by crashing volleys of musketry,
announced the fact that the Russian infantry were attacking the redoubt.
Captain Maude’s troop of horse artillery opened fire on the Russians and
maintained it for some time. Presently the Lancers saw on their flank a
stretcher being carried by. On it, horribly wounded, lay the gallant
Captain Maude. Soon the ammunition of the horse battery was exhausted,
and it had to retire till the ammunition wagons should arrive.
By that time the Russians were swarming across the ditch and over the
feeble parapet of No. 1 Redoubt. The Russians outnumbered the Turks by
ten to one, yet the latter maintained an obstinate bayonet-fight until
sheer weight of numbers crushed the Turks and they fled, or at least
about a third of them did. Two-thirds they left dead--for the Russians
could be depended upon to slay all the wounded--in the fort behind them.
‘By George, the Bono Johnnies are running!’ exclaimed Pearson; ‘they’ve
bolted.’
‘Ha, hum! they won’t bolt far,’ said Sergeant Linham grimly; and as he
spoke the Russian artillery opened on them; then a cloud of Cossacks
pursued them and speared many a hapless Moslem.
Jack bit his lip. ‘It’s galling to sit here and see one’s allies
butchered before one’s face,’ he said. ‘Why don’t they let us go out and
cover the retreat of these poor wretches?’
‘We should be simply eaten up,’ replied Linham; ‘look at the enormous
masses of cavalry advancing.’
‘Besides, why should we bother about these cowardly Turks?’ said
Pearson. ‘Why don’t they stick to their guns?’
‘They’ve stuck pretty well to ’em, I think,’ replied Linham. ‘They
fought till it was quite clear we either could not or would not support
them, and to have stopped longer would have been sheer madness.’
An enormous body of cavalry advanced down the valley, covering the
advance of seven battalions and several batteries. These latter soon
opened fire on the other forts, the guns from the captured No. 1 Redoubt
being directed against No. 2.
The Turks, realising that the English cavalry was unable to support
them, did not wait for the attack which the Russian infantry was seen to
be preparing to make upon them, and were soon scuttling out of the forts
and retreating towards Balaclava. The Light Brigade was advanced to
cover their retreat.
‘They don’t seem inclined to make much of a fight of it,’ said Jack to
Pearson.
‘No, the fate of their comrades in No. 1 Fort seems to have given ’em
the funks. They’ve actually deserted the guns, and left their colours
too.’
‘They seem more anxious about their personal belongings than anything
else,’ said Jack; ‘just look at the beggars, surely those are pots and
pans some of them are carrying.’
‘So it is,’ laughed Brandon; ‘and look at that white-bearded old sinner,
he’s actually carrying a bed on his back.’
This was the case, and the Turks began to pour from the forts towards
the English cavalry, many crying loudly, ‘Ship, ship!’
‘I’ll give yez ship, ye dhirty blackguards,’ cried an Irish trooper of
the 8th Hussars, belabouring with the flat of his sword a man who ran
past him crying loudly, his frying-pan and pot banging and jangling
behind him.
Most of the Englishmen, however, only laughed at the flying Turks.
One of the last to leave the redoubts was an English artilleryman who
had been detailed to show the Turks how to use the guns. He had a narrow
escape of his life from the enemy’s cavalry, and as he ran towards a few
men of Jack’s troop who had been sent out to cover his retreat he
panted, ‘The Bono Johnnies left me in the lurch. Anyhow, the guns of No.
4 Fort won’t be turned against you, for I spiked ’em before I left.’
Had the Turks spiked the other guns before they bolted it would have
saved much unnecessary loss of life and have robbed the Russians of much
of their vaunted victory when, next day, they paraded the captured guns
in Sebastopol.
The flight of the Turks was ultimately arrested, and they were persuaded
to form up in a wobbly line on the left of the 93rd Highlanders, who
under old Sir Colin lined the heights outside Balaclava.
Round shot from the forts now began to fall in amongst the Light
Brigade, and several horses were hit.
‘This is the part of fighting I don’t like,’ said Jack; ‘this sitting
still and being fired at. Why on earth don’t they let us do something?’
‘Ha, hum! don’t be impatient,’ growled Sergeant Linham, who it was noted
looked remarkably smart that morning; ‘you’ll have work to do
presently.’
Bullets began to whistle about their ears from the dense battalions in
front, and presently the order was given to retire farther down the
valley. The battle now appeared to lull; it almost seemed as if the
Russians, having captured the forts, did not know what to do next. The
order was given for the Light Brigade to dismount, and many men lit
their pipes.
‘If the Russians had any go about them,’ said Pearson, ‘with the
enormous numbers they’ve got they might advance and sweep us all into
the sea before any help could arrive from our fellows before
Sebastopol.’
‘It’s a good thing for us they haven’t any go, then,’ said Jack.
‘Anyway, I wish I had a bit of biscuit, for I’m jolly hungry.’
‘I’m simply ravenous,’ said Linham, ‘and so are all the regiment; not
one of us has had bit or drop this morning.’
Time passed, and the cavalry remained inactive, while enormous masses of
Russians crept rather than marched up the valley. Batteries could be
seen taking up their position on the Fedioukine Heights, while between
three and four thousand cavalry, Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons, came
steadily forward. Then several batteries were seen to be advancing so
as to open fire on Sir Colin Campbell and his Highlanders.
‘Good heavens!’ muttered Captain Wintle, who was just by Jack, ‘if they
succeed in defeating the Scotsmen--and how can they help it with such
numbers--nothing can save Balaclava, and our base and all our stores are
gone.’
He trotted up to Lord Paget, who in the absence of Lord Cardigan, still
aboard his yacht, was in command. He and Captain Wintle spoke for a few
seconds; then Captain Wintle trotted back, crying out to Jack, ‘Follow
me, corporal.’
In an instant Jack was in the saddle and trotting after his officer.
Increasing their pace to a gallop, they went by the inner line of
defence held by the Marines, and were going on towards the town when
they met about forty Guardsmen under a young officer marching out.
‘Hallo, Verschoyle,’ cried Captain Wintle, ‘I was just coming in to beat
up every man who can fire a musket. The Russians evidently mean to
attack the town, and there are only Turks and the Highlanders to hold it
till reinforcements come down from the plain.’
‘We’ve seen that, Wintle, and I and my men are off to join the 93rd.
Colonel Davenant is just behind with a hundred invalids. Come with us
and see the fun!’
Captain Wintle rode beside the gallant young Guardsman, and they soon
reached Sir Colin, who with a grim smile told Verschoyle to take
position on the left of the 93rd. The hundred invalids, men of all
regiments, a pale and sickly crowd, who were waiting at Balaclava to
embark, soon after arriving took up their position on the left of the
Guards.
Jack had kept close to Captain Wintle, and reaching the top of the ridge
he saw the great mass of Russian cavalry still advancing. Presently some
squadrons detached themselves and shaped their way towards the
Highlanders. These, on account of some casualties they had already
suffered from the enemy’s artillery, had retired behind the crest of the
hill and lay down.
No sooner was the cavalry seen advancing than Sir Colin gave a brisk
order, and the Highlanders sprang up and lined the crest. The advancing
cavalry seemed hardly to have expected to see infantry; but they came
steadily on, when, as though by common consent, the two battalions of
Turks turned and fled.
This was a serious defection, and it at once became evident to that
‘thin red line’ crowning the hillock in front of Kadikoi that on them,
and on them alone, rested the fate of Balaclava.
Sir Colin Campbell saw and understood the situation in a moment, and the
stern old warrior rode down the lines and said, ‘Men, the safety of
Balaclava rests on you. There is no retreat from here. You must die
where you stand!’
The Highlanders’ faces lit up; they set their lips, their eyes gleamed,
and from between their clenched teeth came the words in a sort of
ominous growl,’Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we’ll do that.’
The Russian cavalry resumed their advance, and some of the Highlanders
in their wild impetuosity would have rushed down upon their foe; but the
angry voice of the chief rang out, ‘93rd--93rd, hang all that
impetuosity!’
Then the Russian Hussars, gay troops in sky-blue, with yellow and
silver lace, came within range, and the Highlanders and others, standing
only in double rank, delivered a withering volley which emptied many a
saddle. The enemy staggered, but still came on, when a second volley
crashed into them. Then the horsemen halted and wheeled as though to
take the gallant red-coats in flank; but one company of the Highlanders
brought up their left shoulders, and again delivered a volley, on which
the gay Hussars broke and retired downhill in confusion, followed by the
fire of the English artillery and the cheers from the ‘Thin Red Line.’
Balaclava was saved!