train the guns abeam and to let the enemy have it at the closest range,
abstaining from fire till then. The French, on the other hand, never
ceased to fire; but the smoke they made so surrounded them that it was
plain they were wasting their ammunition, and did not see so well where
they were going. But their rapidity of approach was tremendous, and I
could note it as I had no guns to look after and could see nearly all
round from the sheltered spot I had chosen.
My ship was near the middle of the port line, and I soon saw the great
jet of smoke from the _Trafalgar_, followed by the roar which denoted
the simultaneous discharge of a whole broadside. In less than half a
minute there was the puff and the roar of the second ship, the
_Collingwood_, and almost immediately I saw that the _Nile_, at the head
of the other line, had fired. But then I directly saw what I had not
been prepared for. I saw the _Nile_ turning round sharp to port, and,
looking to the head of my own line, I saw the _Trafalgar_ steaming along
our line on the opposite course to ours. It flashed through my mind like
a shot, that every ship was turning round after she had fired her
broadside, and that consequently the heads of the French lines or
groups, after running the gauntlet of our lines, would be met by the
ships that had first fired on them, and that as the battle had begun by
the ships passing in opposite directions, it would be continued by all
the ships with their heads in the same direction.
I do not pretend to say that I knew what all this meant at the moment;
indeed, I did not know anything in another minute, for the roar and
shake of the whole of our guns, trained on the port beam, knocked the
power of thinking out of me. Recovering myself in a cloud of choking
smoke, I was first aware that there must have been very little reply to
our fire, but two signalmen were stretched on the deck beside me, both
quite still; one with his shoulder torn entirely away, and the other
bleeding profusely from a wound in his head. There were also, as if
through the ship, new sorts of voices which, in hurried and confused
utterance, warned me that there were death and wounds elsewhere.
But there was no time to think of it. We were wheeling round after our
next ahead; and out of the dense smoke which we were leaving, issued
stray missiles tearing past, and sometimes striking davits or
stanchions, or shattering the planking of a boat. There was nothing, in
fact, now but a roar of guns all round us, and we were covered with a
canopy of smoke. The sole design perceptible was that we were only
firing into the smoke to starboard, and no missiles were coming from the
port side, while every now and then we got a glimpse of our next ahead
and next astern.
As we steamed on, messages went from the captain to the lieutenants not
to fire any more till they could see the enemy; and it was becoming
clear that the French fire was ceasing, though whereabouts they were
could hardly be ascertained. Presently, however, we found ourselves
quite clear of smoke and could see then that the French ships must, most
of them, have stopped, for our vessels—as well as could be seen—were
nearly in their old formations, while the French were well astern, still
somewhat entangled by the smoke, and evidently in some confusion.
Out of this smoke there quickly emerged a ship, which we made out to be
the flag-ship _Formidable_ with a considerable heel to port and steering
to the N.W.
With the general signal flying that the Division was to continue its
course, the _Trafalgar_ suddenly put on steam and went after the
_Formidable_ full speed. The two ships were now in close action and
enveloped in smoke, so that we could only make out their positions
occasionally, the _Trafalgar_ apparently hanging on the starboard
quarter of the _Formidable_. The firing did not last more than ten
minutes or a quarter of an hour, when, the smoke clearing away, it was
seen that the _Formidable’s_ colours were down.
What had happened we only knew afterwards. The _Formidable_ had been
badly torpedoed in passing, and was steaming as she hoped out of action
when we saw her. As the _Trafalgar_ approached, she made a short gallant
defence with her guns, and fired two torpedoes at her; but the water was
rising in the stoke-holds, and it was impossible to keep steam. Admiral
Markham, seeing plainly what the case was, passed close under the
_Formidable’s_ stern, and hailed to claim surrender in the interests of
humanity, or he would ram and sink her. It was the chance of war, and
there was nothing but surrender before our gallant opponent.
Meantime it was plain to be seen how well Sir George Tryon’s orders had
worked. Some of our ships were frightfully knocked about, and the
_Benbow_ was almost in a sinking state from a number of shot-holes
between wind and water; while the _Edinburgh_ was all down by the head,
having caught a torpedo near the stem, but the whole of the ships were
in two lines as they entered into action, and they now re-formed and
headed towards the French, leaving the _Benbow_, _Edinburgh_, and the
prize French flag-ship together, attended by two or three of the
cruisers.
But the most frightful incident of the battle took place in the other
line, and I was not an eye-witness of it. I have not mentioned the
_Polyphemus_ before, but she was with us and sailed with us. It seems
Sir George Tryon’s orders to her were simply to keep out of the way in
the first instance, and to strike home should any opportunity offer.
Captain Brooke, it appears, running out to starboard of the Admiral’s
column, saw his chance in the smoke, and ran straight at the nearest
French ship, whose attention was taken up by the fire of our ships on
her other side. The shock was horrible, and she scarce had time to
extricate herself, when the _Amiral Baudin_ reeled and sank.
FLIGHT OF THE FRENCH SQUADRON.
It did not appear that the rest of the French ships were as much knocked
about as we were, but we afterwards learnt the cause of this. It was
simply that the heavy shell of the French had made a greater show on us
during our first approach than we had been aware of; but, in passing,
our light guns had made terrible havoc amongst the unprotected guns’
crews in the French batteries, while, as they had not reserved their
fire, it was not so destructive to us. Then, too, it seems that our
manœuvre was entirely unexpected, and paralysed the action of the
leading ships after they had, as they supposed, passed through our
fleet. It was, again, our light guns which produced effect, but without
making it so visible to outside observers.
The loss of the flag-ship, of the _Amiral Baudin_, and the great loss in
killed and wounded did, however, act in demoralising the ships’
companies, so that three or four of the ships had already drawn off to
the north-eastward, and there was for the time a good deal of confusion;
but they turned their heads from us and gradually drew out into a line
abreast, nearly as we met them at first.
No doubt fearing a repetition of their former manœuvre, Sir George Tryon
kept his fleet still in two lines; but as the French swept round,
steering first N.E. and then nearly due north for Toulon, we were broken
up into four short columns, and these were presently put into quarter
line.
And now we had a game of long bowls for some time, without apparently
much damage to either side. We were always being checked in our pursuit
by the failure first of one ship, and then of another, to keep steam;
and it seemed to be precisely the same with the French, so that darkness
closed upon us without either the French being able to draw out of
action, or our being able to make it a close one.
Before daylight, our reckoning brought us so close up to Toulon, that,
as we had lost sight of the enemy three hours before, signal was made to
slow down, and at daylight we could just make out the French closing
into the land and disappearing.
Such was the Battle of Sardinia, as I made it out. The French risked it
in the hope of falling on the weak Anglo-Italian squadron, and so saving
Algeria. It was almost as great a risk for us, being so numerically
inferior; but, accepting the position all along, our Admirals so managed
that we suffered much less loss in the end. But the feature which struck
us all as most remarkable was the fact that while we had two ships
practically disabled, and the French had suffered but the same loss, yet
we were victorious by reason of the terrible carnage which our lighter
guns had caused in the enemy’s ships.
_P.S._—I have just learnt that the real cause of the French retreat was
news that reached them by a cruiser of the approach of the squadron from
Algiers. This Sir George Tryon expected all along, but we knew nothing
of it. We met the ships next day. News from England has just come by the
_Blonde_. The German Fleet has joined that of Sir Michael Seymour in the
Gulf of Finland, and he has sent home five of his ships. The Duke of
Edinburgh has detached two of his, and the whole seven are making the
best of their way, with several cruisers, to reinforce us. All idea of
further attack on Algiers is given up, and Admiral Markham will sail
with ten battle-ships and six cruisers to the Levant, to convoy the
troops into the Black Sea, and then to mask the Russian Fleet in
Sebastopol. So the Black Sea expedition is to go on. Yet the general
opinion amongst us is that our Government are running considerable
risks, and that we are relying on the principle of ‘Nothing venture,
nothing have.’
THE FRANCO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN—CAVALRY ENGAGEMENT NEAR LIGNY.
DEFEAT OF THE FRENCH.
(_From our Special Correspondent with the Germans._)
NAMUR, _May 5_.
A report reaches me to-night that the Germans from Metz light siege
train since early on the morning of the 3d. The guns in the annex
batteries of the French defences not being mounted yet, each fort was
surrounded by a circle of fire, to which it could only return a
divergent reply. The forts are now shapeless heaps of ruin, the
cavaliers cut down, and the guns either dismounted or buried under the
earth thrown out by the bursting shells. No attempt at assault has yet
been made.
An attempt at a raid by the German cavalry from the direction of
Luxembourg—Dun is also reported, without great results. Two squadrons
have managed to slip round the Verdun defences, and re-entered German
territory near Mars-la-Tour, last night, destroying railways and wires
as they went.
NAMUR, _May 9_.
There has been a smart cavalry action to-day in the vicinity of Ligny
and St. Amand, names so well known in the Waterloo campaign, in which
the French have very decidedly had the worst of it.
Before commencing my account, I will add that the censorship here is
very strict indeed, and that no mention whatever is permitted of numbers
of corps or regiments, or of the names of their commanders; as these
data are invaluable to an enemy in enabling him to check the truth of
information received, and it is always possible that the wires between
here and Brussels may be tapped.
Yesterday afternoon I found a place in a train going to Gembloux, where
our Cavalry Division had arrived during the morning. Arrived there, I
met an old friend in the Hussars, who told me that he and three other
officers had been selected for a reconnaissance ride next morning, and
that a place in their carriage was at my service. The idea of driving
out to a real cavalry action struck me as singular, so I asked for
information, and was told by my friend that he and his comrades, who
were all noted steeplechase riders, had had several horses in training
for a meeting, to which the war had put a stop, and had been told by
their colonel to train the horses a little ‘fat’ and bring them along to
the front—he would be glad of their services, and find them an
opportunity for distinction greater than any to be won between the
flags. They were to have their horses led out for them, and, as soon as
the expected collision occurred, to mount, slip through the enemy’s
scouts in the confusion of the scrimmage, and ride as far as possible to
the south and westward to see what was going on behind the cavalry
screen.
Needless to say, I accepted the offer, and 2 A.M. found me with my
friends driving out along the road to Ligny, where lay the outposts.
Latest reports indicated the enemy’s cavalry, at least a division
strong, between Fleurus and Charleroi. The advance-guard of our
Division, the Hussar brigade, moved off about an hour before sunrise,
following the line of the great road. We stayed behind to await the
arrival of the main body, and presently moved over in the direction of
St. Amand. Soon the main body was seen approaching, and about the same
time we could see the Hussars falling back across the railway, and a
report arrived that the French were coming on in force.
The Divisional Commander rode forward to reconnoitre the ground in
front, and left orders to the main body to form for attack under cover
in a hollow in rear; the same, by chance, in which Blücher had stationed
the reserves of his right before the battle of Ligny in 1815.
It was a perfectly faultless morning, and the sun was just beginning to
rise when we saw three batteries of French Horse Artillery cross the
railway and come out into the plain. Our own batteries were in the act
of unlimbering, at double intervals, to allow for the melinite shells;
and as they crossed the sky-line the French, too, saw them, and came
into ‘action front.’ The two first shots on each side fell almost
simultaneously, and the duel began. The hollow in our front and the
blinding rays of the sun full in the eyes of the enemy gave us an
immense advantage, and in five minutes our side had ‘ranged,’ and one
French gun was sent flying. Meanwhile our Hussars had been falling back,
and were wheeling up into position as second and third lines to the two
heavy brigades.
The French Cavalry were now crossing the railway in line of squadron
columns and immediately afterwards formed ‘line,’ and the signal to
advance was given by our Commander. As our horse crossed the plateau on
which the guns were in action, ‘Troops half left’ was sounded, and the
French hearing the signal, no doubt, and seeing also that we were not
quite in line, must have guessed our intention to attack their left, and
endeavoured to meet it by ‘Shouldering.’
Reaching the hollow our cavalry again wheeled into line, crossed the
little brooklet without disorder, and then, by silent signal, broke into
column of troops to the right, and galloped up the hollow in a long
sweeping stride—their distances perfectly preserved. This movement
promised to bring them out right on the flank and rear of the French
left, but the next moment we saw the French Reserve, which had hitherto
been hidden by trees along the lane from Perwin to Bry—moving in a
direction that would bring them right on the flank of our first line.
The situation was most critical—we all held our breath—but the next
moment we heard the regimental call of the leading regiment, followed by
the long ‘G’s’ of ‘line to the front,’ and we knew that the danger was
seen and met.
Simultaneously also the tail of the column still in sight wheeled into
line, and came dashing forward to the attack.
The French were already in a poor condition to meet it. The attempt to
‘shoulder’ the long line had loosened their order, and from the moment
they came in sight our gunners had turned their full power upon them
with results almost indescribable. Out of the dust and smoke of the
bursting shells we saw limbs and bodies thrown high in the air, and the
right and second line of the enemy was already in hopeless confusion
before the blow fell on their left. This wing had escaped our shells,
for to fire on it would have imperilled our own men. They saw the danger
coming, and two squadrons endeavoured to wheel up to meet it, but they
were too late, the next moment our trumpets rang out the ‘charge,’ and
with a roar of cheering our men dashed forward; we heard the crash of
the collision, for a moment saw horses rear up and fall backward, and
then the dust rose and shut out all further vision. But the French did
not bolt, the wreck of their right and second line wheeled up, rallied
on their officers as best they could, and dashed into the _mêlée_, where
they too were lost to sight. From time to time we saw groups of our
white-coated Cuirassiers and the dark blue Uhlans emerge from the
dust-cloud, then wheel and go back again, and for some moments the fight
here became stationary, for the French on this point outnumbered us two
to one. Then suddenly from out of the hollow we again heard the charge
sounding, and for a second or two caught sight of the left of our third
line, as with perfectly closed ranks they dashed into the _mêlée_. This
blow settled the matter. The mass again came into motion; first a few
files, followed by more, began to drop off to the rear, and presently
the whole cloud, gathering pace as it went, swept down right on to the
flank of their horse batteries, who, seeing the danger coming, had
endeavoured to limber up in the full fire of our artillery. But they
were too late, the crowd swept over them, and when it had passed we saw
eight guns still on the ground, with some Hussars and Uhlans busy around
them.
What happened on our right I could only partially see, the trees
interfering with my line of vision. I am therefore dependent on the
testimony of others.
The regiment that had ‘front formed’ was one of the heaviest in the
army, and prided itself on riding even closer knee to knee in the charge
than the regulation sanctions; and well was it for them that they did
so, for the odds against them were very heavy. The shock was perfectly
direct; the French wavered a little at the last moment, and the
Cuirassiers burst through them, maintaining their formation almost
intact; then, wheeling round, attacked the overlapping French squadrons,
and drove them back towards the hollow, where the second line of
Hussars, warned of what was happening in front, had taken ground
outwards, and then charged the _mêlée_ from the northwards, setting it
in motion again towards the south.
By degrees the forces began to disentangle themselves, and the Germans
rallied again in closed squadrons, while the French got away as best
they could towards the woods of Lambusart.
The losses due to the lance appear to have been trifling, for at the
moment of actual contact the men could not reach each other; the horses
fairly breasted one another, and the lighter ones went over backwards,
many being found with fractured spines. In the _mêlée_, too, the lance
proved useless,—the crowd was too dense. Men wrestled and fought with
their fists. The French loss caused by our artillery was perfectly
appalling; but, thanks to the dexterity of our leader, who managed
always to keep the enemy between him and the guns—thus effectually
masking their fire—we have escaped their shells almost entirely. I may
also call attention to the advantages we secured by having the sun at
our backs, which gave the French gunners—excellently trained as they
are, and gallant beyond a doubt—hardly the chance of inflicting injury
on us.
No one can accuse the French this morning of showing anything but
perfect gallantry, but we have again an instance that more than
gallantry is required for cavalry efficiency. The reason why the Germans
won is because they manœuvred with perfect precision, and were so
thoroughly in hand that even the most unexpected occurrences could be
met and dealt with. Here the French were outmatched, and their leader,
too, seemed hardly equal to his task. He formed line too soon; had he
stayed in squadron columns a little longer he could have changed front
without the unsteadiness entailed by the endeavour to do so after the
line had been formed.
Whilst writing this one of the General Staff has kindly come round to
tell me that there is room in a special train starting to-night in two
hours—destination not to be breathed—and I fancy within a very short
time you will hear of something startling; more I dare not say at
present.
My friends of this morning are back again safe and sound, having ridden
some sixty miles. They tell me the French had thirty-six squadrons
against our twenty-four this morning. But about the rest of their
information I must be silent.
VOUZIERS, MIDNIGHT, _May 12_.
The curtain has at last fallen on the first act of this great national
tragedy—the first strategical problem has been solved, and I am again
free to write.
Briefly what has happened is this:
All the available troops of the Metz (or 3d Army) have been drawn off
under cover of the operations described in my telegram of the 5th inst.,
to the neighbourhood of Luxembourg—Thionville.
The five Corps of the 1st Army have been concentrated from Namur, and
districts northward, behind the frontier north of Mezieres, Sedan, and
the 2d Army (four Corps) has formed between them. Three other Corps are
following in rear.
These movements were completed on the 9th inst., and at daybreak on the
10th the frontier was crossed by the leading troops of all three armies.
Two French corps, distributed for the defence of the Meuse, were caught
by the 3d Army whilst endeavouring to concentrate, and compelled to fall
back in considerable confusion.
The Second Army met with no opposition, and their cavalry reached
Buzancy.
The cavalry divisions in advance of the First Army had a sharp and
victorious encounter with French horse on the plateau between the Meuse
and Aisne, who retreated afterwards towards Laon, and our leading corps
made good the passage of the Meuse, between Mezieres and Sedan, and
upstream towards Mouzon, their advance guards bivouacking on the line,
Rancourt—Omont—Poix. It was a day of hard marching, but the weather was
cool, and the men in good training seemed to make light of their twenty
to twenty-five miles.
I was not present at any of the collisions this day, being unable to
overtake the cavalry screen; from what I can learn, however, the success
of the latter was due to much the same reasons as in the fight at St.
Amand—Bry, viz., mobility in the troops, _coup d’œil_ in the leaders,
and closed files in the charge.
The fight of the next day I saw capitally, and send it herewith as I
wrote it the same evening.
ENGAGEMENT AT VAUX CHAMPAGNE.
DRICOURT, _May 11_.
I overtook the main body of our Cavalry Division (_i.e._ the one
attached to the immediately following Corps, with which I have for the
present joined fortunes) near Tourteron—a village lying some seven miles
north of the Aisne—late last night, and learnt that there was certain to
be a sharp tussle next morning; for patrols reported large masses of
French troops in the valley of the Aisne about Vouziers, and from a
neighbouring hill we could see the reflection of their bivouac fires,
while southward we heard the noise of trains passing constantly and at
short intervals on the line from Rheims to Monthois.
At 3 A.M. the headquarter orders reached us, and at 4.30 we were on the
move—pretty smart work, considering the number of hands through which
orders had to pass. I followed the General’s staff, who had kindly given
me permission to do so.
Our mission was evident, viz., to seize the high land beyond the Aisne,
to cover the passage of the stream by our infantry.
On the way reports came in that a large body of French troops, at least
a Corps, was moving to meet us by the same road, and it became evident
that it was a race between us who could reach the long stretching downs
of Vaux Champagne in our front first, and in sufficient strength to hold
them. That our cavalry could be there in time was clear; indeed, our
scouts were already far beyond it, but how to hold it was another
matter, about which I should have liked information, but did not dare to
ask for it.
We cantered forward, and drew up on the downs about 7.15. I found the
situation very much like one I saw at the French manœuvres last year
near Lesmont, when infantry and artillery, both without scouts in
advance, raced for a similar hill, and met at the top with results
disastrous for the artillery.