COMMANDER (NOW CAPTAIN) FIOTT DAY, R.N., AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.
Our sailors do not occupy a very prominent place in Mr. Desanges’
Victoria Cross Gallery. We find that only four of his paintings have
been devoted to the gallant deeds of our naval heroes, but we must not
infer from this that British sailors are inferior to British soldiers,
or that blue jackets have deteriorated since the days of Nelson. This is
far from being the case, as we all know. But two conditions are necessary
to constitute a hero: it is not enough that a man be brave, he must also
have an opportunity of displaying his bravery. There are, doubtless, many
Hampdens sleeping in our village churchyards, and many Nelsons serving
on board our ships; all that has been wanting is the opportunity of
displaying their patriotism or their courage. We are all more or less the
creatures of circumstances; the race is not always to the swift, nor the
battle to the strong, because the swift and the strong are often debarred
by fate from either running or fighting. Time and chance, as the wise
man tells us, happen to all. Nelson would never have been a hero if he
had not robbed an orchard, and Fiott Day might have been known only as a
very intelligent commander in the British navy if it had not been for the
Crimean war.
It was one of the oratorical or conversational hits of Lord Palmerston,
that if the Crimean war had no other advantage, it at least extended
our knowledge of geography. Some hard-headed people may imagine that we
paid dear for the lesson, but not one will deny that the long-protracted
contest _did_ increase our knowledge of those semi-barbarous regions,
the names of which, we fear, were little familiar even to those
schoolboys who had gained the first prizes in geography. Knowledge thus
acquired, however, is seldom permanent; when the war ceased, our interest
in the localities where the great battles were fought became less vivid.
It is well that the rising generation, in whom all the hopes of England
are centred, should be familiar with the courage, the endurance, and
the heroic deeds of those who took part in that disastrous war; such
knowledge excites their sympathy, stimulates their ambition, and elicits
that spirit of adventure which has made Britain the mistress of an empire
far more extended than that of ancient Rome.
Mr. Desanges has trusted more to his pencil than his pen in depicting the
gallant deed by which Captain Day obtained the Victoria Cross. We read
that “with great gallantry this officer landed and twice successfully
carried out a reconnoissance within the enemy’s lines at Genitchi,
advancing to within about 200 yards of the enemy’s gun-vessels.” Most
readers will exclaim, “Where is Genitchi?” Few even professed geographers
would be able to answer such a question, and as our interest in paintings
depends much on our intimacy with the scenes they represent, we invite
our young readers to do as we have done—to open their atlases at Russia
in Europe, and to examine the map. It may save time to state at once
that this incident occurred during the Crimean war, and that Captain Day
commanded one of the vessels engaged in the expedition. Now, on examining
the southern extremity of Russia in Europe, it will be seen the only
entrance from the Sea of Azov into the Senish or Putrid Sea is through
the Straits of Genitchi. These straits are very narrow in most maps—in
fact, so narrow that we have to strain the eye a little before we can
perceive them. On the right-hand side of these straits stands the town of
Genitchi, from which they derive their name. It is situated on the slope
of a lofty eminence, and is a place of considerable strength.
During the Crimean war it was strongly garrisoned with nearly twenty
thousand Russian troops, to protect it from the attacks of the allies.
To the left is the Spit of Arabat, which was occupied by strong bodies
of Cossack horse artillery and cavalry, which formed a continuous line
of pickets all the way to Arabat. It is about seventy miles in length,
and of an average breadth of half a mile, though in some places it is
not more than two hundred yards. Its broadest part is opposite the town
of Genitchi, where it is between three and four miles across. At this
particular point it is covered with numerous lagoons and strips of water,
varying in size, all of which are covered with thick rushes and weeds,
and are a favourite resort of different kinds of water-fowl. We have
mentioned that pickets of Cossacks were stationed along the whole of the
Spit of Arabat, and there were constant skirmishes between them and our
sailors. Such slight exchanges of civility tended to vary the monotony of
naval life, but the adventure in which Captain Day distinguished himself
was of a far more dangerous character.
It is said that he advanced within two hundred yards of the enemy’s
gunboats; but to understand the exact nature of this heroic deed we
must enter more into detail. On the inner side of the Spit of Arabat,
opposite the town of Genitchi, were several guard-houses, in front of
which four gunboats were moored, in such a position as to cover the
entrance of the straits, and to bring under their fire any vessel that
attempted to force its way. Setting aside these gunboats, it would have
been a most hazardous undertaking for any boat to have attempted to pass
the town so as to reach the Sivash, as the passage is not more than
three hundred yards broad, and the whole of the heights which command
it were lined with troops and field-pieces. Any boat that attempted to
run the passage would have been within range of the fire of all these
field-pieces, and exposed to almost certain destruction. Still it was of
the last importance that the passage should be made, as it was only in
this way that the supplies which were poured into the Crimea and enabled
the Russians to prolong the contest could be cut off. These supplies were
conveyed from the mainland by the Chingan bridge, and the great object of
the naval expedition was to destroy this bridge. Still the undertaking,
as we have said, was most hazardous, and another plan had been attempted.
To Captain S. Osborne belongs the honour of having first discovered the
position of this bridge. Captain Osborne is, doubtless, known to all
our readers as a charming writer as well as a brave sailor, and he had
recourse to an ingenious expedient to obtain the desired information. He
caused two light boats, which he had transported across the narrowest
part of the Arabat spit at night, to be launched on the Sivash, and
approached near enough to the bridge to ascertain its exact position.
It was a work of great difficulty to get even these light boats pushed
through the mud, and Osborne narrowly escaped being captured. It would
have been impossible, of course, to navigate heavily-armed boats on the
muddy straits, supposing that our sailors had succeeded in getting them
across the spit. Several experiments were made, but the attempt was given
up as impracticable.
Soon after the fall of the south part of Sebastopol, Captain Day was
stationed in the _Recruit_, which was under his command, off the Straits
of Genitchi. While cruising along the coast, he had his attention
directed to the fact that the enemy’s forces appeared to be less numerous
than usual, more especially in the vicinity of the town and on the
opposite spit. He at once despatched two gunboats to explore; on their
return they reported that few of the enemy were to be seen. A brilliant
idea occurred to Captain Day; it struck him that now was the time to make
his way across the spit, and to capture the gunboats which covered the
passage. He at once proceeded to act upon it. At this time, the writers
of leaders in the daily press were very critical in regard to our navy,
and easily proved upon paper that it was practicable to force a passage
through the Genitchi Straits. There was a feeling among our sailors
that if the thing could be done it would be acceptable, not only to the
admiral in command, but also to the public at home. Good people at home,
who carelessly criticise the exploits of our soldiers and sailors by
their comfortable firesides, little imagine what daring deeds are done to
secure their applause. “What will they say at home?” was the exclamation
of Nelson after one of his great victories; and the man who does not
value the good opinion of his fellow-citizens is not likely ever to do a
heroic deed, or to occupy a niche in the temple of Fame.
[Illustration: Commander George Fiott Day, R.N., reconnoitering within
the Enemy’s Lines at Genitchi.]
Captain Day was not ignorant of the danger of attempting this
reconnoissance. About a month before, Captain L’Allemand, of the French
steam-vessel _Mouette_, had done so, and failed. He not only lost his own
life, but several of the sailors who accompanied him were killed. Captain
Day had the sagacity to perceive that this disaster was the result of
the Frenchman’s imprudence. He had taken with him some twenty of his
men—a force too small to offer any effectual resistance in the event of
discovery, and too numerous to be able to escape detection. It occurred
to him that one man might succeed where twenty had failed; but where was
that man to be found? No one could hope to succeed, unless he had the
step of an Indian and the eye of a hawk. In his earlier days, Captain Day
had learned to stalk the red-deer on the mountains of the North, and the
acuteness of vision and stealthiness of tread he had thus acquired were
now employed for the benefit of his country. It is not to be supposed
that self is altogether forgotten in the hour of heroic self-devotion;
promotion, the world’s applause, and Westminster Abbey are dimly present
to the mind of the most unselfish of men when undertaking some daring
enterprise. To secure the applause of his admiral and a step in the
service may have weighed a little with Captain Day; but we are sure that
the danger itself had a certain irresistible attraction to his mind. He
waited anxiously for a night suitable for the attempt, and on the 19th
of September he was enabled to take the bearings of the Russian gunboats
from the mast-head of his ship; he was enabled at the same time to mark
the exact position of the guard-houses on the spit. He then resolved to
land as soon as it was dark, and to try to make his way across without
being observed. Accordingly, as soon as evening set in, he put a couple
of sailors in his smallest boat, and, taking a small pocket-compass, some
matches, his double glasses, and revolver, he at once landed. He took the
precaution to put his commission in his pocket, so that his rank might
be recognised if he were taken prisoner. He landed on the beach abreast
his own ship, and told the sailors to remain in the boat at a sufficient
distance from land to be beyond the reach of the enemy’s fire, in the
event of a surprise; they were to remain there and not to make any noise,
whatever might happen, unless he hailed them to pull in.
It would be impossible to relate all the adventures of that night;
suffice it to say that our hero _did_ make his way across, after a long
and wearisome journey, without being detected. He passed through many
of the enemy’s pickets, which, as he had anticipated, were few, and
widely scattered. He was thus enabled to have a good view of the Russian
gunboats, which he found were moored close to the shore, and likely
to remain in that position. The idea occurred to him that they could
easily be surprised, as they were very slightly armed, and no attack
was expected by the enemy. Nothing, however, could be done without the
sanction of Captain Osborne, and our hero had reluctantly to retrace
his steps. He reached the beach about two o’clock in the morning, after
tramping about among bogs and morasses for more than seven hours, and
found his boat all safe. He was in constant danger of detection, in
consequence of the numerous water-fowl with which the lagoons abounded
being disturbed by his approach, and thus putting the sentries on the
alert; but his old deer-stalking habits stood him in good stead: he was
not discovered.
On the following day Captain Osborne arrived, and Commander Day
communicated to him all that he had witnessed during the previous night.
It was fortunate that in Osborne he had a leader quite as bold and daring
as himself, who entered warmly into his plans, and admitted that the
attempt might be crowned with success. He received from him the promise
that, if an expedition were sent, he should take part in it—an assurance
which afforded him much satisfaction. On the following day Captain
Osborne was obliged to leave, and Commander Day, on cruising along the
coast, observed that the enemy appeared to be as numerous as ever. It
occurred to him, as he anchored for the night off his old anchorage,
that it would never do to allow the expedition to be undertaken with so
many of the enemy scattered about, as it would only end in disaster and
the capture or slaughter of all who took part in it. To prevent such a
calamity, he resolved to make another reconnoissance. After the statement
he had given to Osborne about the number of the enemy, he felt that a
great responsibility rested upon himself, and that it was far better
to expose his own life to danger a second time than involuntarily to
cause the loss of many valuable lives. None but a gallant and good man
would have reasoned thus, or incurred so great a danger. He determined,
therefore, to land at once, in order to ascertain the real strength of
the enemy, and thus be enabled to report to Captain Osborne whether it
would be advisable to undertake the expedition. He felt it to be his duty
to do this, as he had led him to believe that the enemy’s forces were far
less numerous than they now appeared to be.
Accordingly, employing the same tactics as before, he landed at sunset.
The night was bitterly cold, and so intensely dark that he had to grope
his way at every step. He soon discovered that he was off the right
track, and more deeply involved among the Russian sentries than was at
all pleasant or desirable; but he never for a moment lost his presence of
mind, and it was to this cause that he owed his safety. He crept along
with all the stealthiness of a Red Indian, stopping every moment, and
feeling his way at every step. He soon saw enough to satisfy him that
the enemy’s forces were far too numerous to admit of the possibility
of their being captured or surprised. There was no help for it; the
expedition must be abandoned, and he must try to reach his vessel in
safety. This was no easy undertaking; if it was difficult to advance,
it was still more difficult to retreat. The place was full of quagmires
and pits, into which he repeatedly fell, and, to add to other delightful
sensations, more than one ball came whizzing past his ears in such close
proximity as to be far from pleasant. It was his impression at the moment
that the sentries had discovered him and were firing at him; but he was
satisfied afterwards that this was not the case. They were only firing in
accordance with their usual custom, to show that they were on the alert,
and thus avert the attack they dreaded.
After nine hours’ wandering he reached the beach, and the sight of the
blue waves must have been as grateful to him as the first glimpse of the
ocean to the Ten Thousand Greeks in their retreat. But his dangers were
not yet at an end: he looked everywhere for his boat, but it could not
be seen; he waded up to the waist in the water, and, putting his mouth
close to its surface, so as to veil the sound, he shouted to them to
come in. There was no answer. In his desperation he drew his pistol from
his belt, and, placing it close to the water, fired. It did not strike
him at first that this act was more likely to attract the attention of
the enemy than that of the men in the boat; but as soon as he heard the
report of the pistol he was alive to the extent of the danger which he
had incurred through his imprudence. His safety lay in the proximity of
his own vessel, which was so close to the beach that the Cossacks could
not approach the shore without being under range of her guns. It was a
fearful position to be placed in. He was shivering with cold, his feet
were benumbed, and his clothes saturated with wet. Overpowered with
fatigue and half-dead with exposure, he threw himself down on the beach
and prayed earnestly for the dawn. It was one of those hours which may
concentrate in themselves more than the agony of a whole lifetime. Such
hours are never forgotten in after-life, and are often the starting-point
of a new existence. But we need not dwell upon those weary hours that
preceded the dawn. A little before daylight, Mr. W. H. Parker, an officer
of Commander Day’s vessel, pulled in along shore to see if he could see
anything of one who, it was feared, was either dead or in the hands of
the enemy. He found him prostrate on the beach, and nearly frozen to
death. But such men have a wonderful tenacity of life. He soon recovered
sufficiently to inquire why his men had not pulled in when he hailed
them. It appeared that they had heard the report and seen the flash of
his pistol, but thought it might have been some of the sentries near
the beach. They imagined that they heard him approach the shore, but
thought that they were carrying out his instructions in not approaching
nearer to the land, as he had told them that in the event of his being
chased he would swim out to the boat. They listened and watched, but as
they heard nothing more they imagined that he had not come down. The
following morning he was too ill to move. A less powerful frame would
have succumbed under the physical suffering of that night. Captain
Osborne, who had returned, visited him the same day on board his ship,
and persuaded Captain Day to address to him that despatch which elicited
a letter of approval from the Admiralty and earned for him the Victoria
Cross.
Captain Day was, undoubtedly, the only man in England who felt any
surprise when his sovereign conferred on him this proof of her favour.
It has been cynically remarked that no man is a hero in the eyes of his
valet. It is certain that no true hero is ever esteemed to be so by
himself. There is a glorious absence of all self-consciousness in true
genius and heroism. The man whom the whole world admires is often the
least conscious of his own merits.
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