probably by the sight of the glorious feat achieved by the "heavies,"
and burning to see it emulated by his comrades of the light regiments,
he so gave the order to Lord Lucan that the latter conceived it to be
his duty to charge. The order was simply to advance, but when Lord
Lucan asked him, "How far are we to advance?" he replied, pointing to
the Russians, "There are the enemy and there are the guns."
Lord Lucan, conceiving that his orders were absolute, ordered Lord
Cardigan to advance upon the guns. Lord Cardigan saw at once the
desperate nature of the enterprise. The guns were a mile and a half
distant, backed by the whole Russian army. The line to be ridden over
was swept not only by the fire of the guns he was about to charge, but
by those of other batteries on the flank. No support was possible, for
the heavy cavalry were at this time far away, executing a movement
which had been ordered. Lastly, even if successful, the charge could
be attended with no great results, as it would be impossible either to
hold or carry away the guns.
The enterprise was indeed a desperate one. Lord Cardigan gave the
order, and the Light Brigade, numbering in all but the strength of a
single regiment, set out at a trot towards the distant Russians. As
they approached they quickened their speed, and the spectators saw
with feelings of mixed horror and admiration, the enterprise on which
they had embarked. When at the distance of 1200 yards from the
Russians, thirty pieces of artillery opened fire upon them. Men and
horses rolled over before the iron shower, but the squadrons closed up
their gaps and rode straight forward, with sabres flashing in the sun,
leaving the plain behind them dotted with killed and wounded.
Again, as they neared the battery, the iron shower swept through their
ranks; then with a mighty shout they dashed upon the guns. Brief was
the struggle here. The Russian gunners were cut down, and gathering
together, boot to boot, the British cavalry rode straight at a Russian
line of infantry which formed up 100 yards behind the guns, poured a
volley into them. There was no pause, but straight, and with the shock
of an avalanche, they hurled themselves at the Russians. There was a
yell, a crash, the clash of sabre on bayonet, the shout of the victor,
the scream of the dying, and the British horsemen burst through the
Russian line. Their work was done. They were conquerors, but alone in
an army of enemies. Turning now, they swept back again through the
guns on their homeward way. The flank batteries belched their fire
upon them, the rattle of musketry sounded round them, a regiment of
cavalry was hurled upon their flanks, but these, weak as they were,
they dashed aside, and wounded and bleeding, the remnant of the
gallant band rode on until met by the Heavy Brigade, advancing to
assist them and cover their retreat.
Our infantry now made a forward movement. The Russians fell back, and
at half-past eleven the battle of Balaklava was over. While the
British charge was going on, 200 of the French cavalry made a
brilliant charge on the left and carried a battery, but had to retreat
with a loss of two captains, and fifty men killed and wounded. Our
loss in all was thirteen officers killed or taken, and twenty-seven
officers wounded, 162 men killed or taken, and 224 men wounded. There
were 394 horses killed or missing, and 126 horses wounded. The
Russians carried off some ten guns from the redoubts which they
captured in the morning.
Jack and his friends returned at the conclusion of the fight to camp,
where, as they had rather expected, they met with a severe reprimand
for their absence, being told that upon such an occasion, whether off
duty or not, their duty was to remain in camp. Captain Peel indeed,
was nearly sending them back to their ships again. But after a very
severe reprimand he allowed them to remain. The boys went back to
their tent somewhat crestfallen, but agreed that such a sight as they
had witnessed was worth anything.
October ended, and the batteries of besieged and besiegers continued
to play, the Russians causing much annoyance by the heavy shell which
they threw up from their mortars; the battery worked by the
blue-jackets suffering particularly. The Russians had now 240 guns in
their new works, a number far superior to those of the allies. As yet
no damage whatever had been inflicted on the enemy's works. Each day
their faces were pitted with shot, each night the Russians repaired
the damages. In the mean time the Russians had received very large
reinforcements. Two of the Imperial Grand Dukes had also arrived, and
they were preparing for an attempt to sweep the allies into the sea.
The weather had set in wet; the soldiers were weakened by their
incessant work in the trenches, by wet and exposure, and the strength
of many of the regiments was greatly reduced by disease. All hopes of
capturing the fortress and returning to Constantinople to winter were
now at an end, and the roads having become mere quagmires, the
supplies of food and of fuel were growing scanty. On the 3d, Jack had
been sent down to Balaklava with a despatch from Captain Peel to
Admiral Lyons. Mr. Hethcote lent him his pony, and having delivered
his message in the guard-ship in the harbor, whence it would be taken
out to the "Agamemnon," Jack went on board some of the transports, and
discharged a number of commissions with which he had been intrusted by
his comrades. So numerous were they that he was obliged to get a
couple of sacks which were completely filled with hams, bottled stout,
fresh bread, potted meats, brandy, matches, and tobacco. He had, too,
succeeded in purchasing several waterproof sheets and tarpaulins, and
these being fastened on the top of the sacks, were placed upon the
pony's back, and, taking his bridle, Jack started through the mud for
his long tramp back to camp, for it was quite out of the question that
the pony could carry him in addition to these burdens. Not a little
laughter was excited on his arrival, and there was quite a rush of the
various officers to procure their share of Jack's purchases, for no
officer had been down to Balaklava for a fortnight, and the stores of
luxuries were completely exhausted.
Next night Jack and his messmates gave a grand entertainment. Harry
and two other lieutenants of the 33d--for the battle of the Alma had
made so many death vacancies in the regiment that he had obtained his
promotion--were there, and two young officers of the 30th who were
cousins of one of Jack's tentmates. It certainly was a close pack. Tom
Hammond had obtained some planks, and, laying these on the flour
barrel, had contrived a sort of circular table, round which the
parties sat with their backs to the wall, on boxes, empty preserved
potato tins, rum kegs, and portmanteaus. There was no room for Tom to
enter the tent, so the full dishes were handed in through the
entrance, and the empty ones passed out. Each guest of course brought
his own plate, knife, fork, spoon, and drinking tin. As for a change
of plates, no one dreamed of such a thing.
Outside, the night set in wet and gloomy, but four tallow candles
stuck in bottles threw a grand illumination.
The first course was pea-soup. It smelt good, but it had a suspicious
appearance, globules of grease floated upon its surface. All fell to
with a will, but with the first spoonful there was a general
explosion.
"What on earth is this, Jack?" Harry exclaimed.
"What the deuce is it?" another said. "It is filthy!"
While one of the young officers of the 30th exclaimed to his cousin,
"Confound it, Ned! you haven't brought us here to poison us, have
you?"
This explosion was followed by a simultaneous shout for Tom by his six
angry masters.
The top-man put his head in at the slit.
"What the deuce have you been doing to this soup?" roared the
indignant chorus.
"Soup, your honors? Nothing."
"Nothing! Don't tell me, you ruffian!" exclaimed Allison, the oldest
of the midshipmen. "It's poison! What have you been doing to it?"
"Well, your honor, the only way I can account for it is that a while
ago I took off the lid to see if it was boiling nicely, when a bit of
tallow candle I had in my fingers slipped and fell into it. I couldn't
get it out, though I scalded my fingers in trying, and it just melted
away in no time. I skimmed the fat off the top, your honors, and
didn't think it would make no matter."
The shout of laughter which greeted the explanation was loud and
general.
"You're a scoundrel, Tom!" Allison said, "and I shall have to ask Mr.
Hethcote to disrate you, and get some one here who is not a born
idiot. Here, take this horrible mess away! Pour the contents of your
plates back into the pot, boys, and put the plates together. You must
wash them, Tom, or the tallow will taste in everything we have."
The things were passed out of the tent, and after five minutes the
plates were returned, and with them a great tin piled up with Irish
stew, the contents of five tins. A cheer rose as the smell of the food
greeted their nostrils.
"Hurrah! This is something like! I don't think there's any mistake
this time."
Nor was there. The stew was unanimously voted to be perfect, and Tom
was again called to the tent-door, and solemnly forgiven.
Then came fried rashers of ham, eaten with hard biscuit. Then came the
great triumph of the banquet--a great plum-pudding, which had been
sent out from England in a tin, ready cooked, and which had only
required an hour's boiling to warm it through.
In order to eat this in what the midshipmen called proper style, a tin
pannikin half filled with brandy was held over the candles, and the
brandy being then ignited, was poured over the pudding. Not a scrap of
this was left when the party had finished, and the table being
cleared, pipes were brought out and lighted; the drinking-cups
refilled with grog, and the party set-to to enjoy a long evening.
"It is a beastly night," the one sitting next to the door said,
peering out into the darkness. "It is a fine rain, or rather a Scotch
mist, so thick I can hardly see the next tent. It will be as much as
you fellows will be able to do to find your way back to your camps.
"Now," Allison said, "let us make ourselves comfortable. It is only
seven o'clock yet, and you've got three hours before 'lights out.'
It's my duty as president of the mess to call upon some one for a
song, but as I'm a good fellow I will set the example myself. Upon the
present occasion we can't do better than begin with 'The Red, White,
and Blue,' and, mind, a good chorus every one. Any one shirking the
chorus will have no share of the next round of grog, and any one who
does not sing when called upon, or who attempts to make any base
explanations or excuses, will have to drink his tin full of salt and
water."
Without further delay Allison began his song, one very popular at that
time. There was no occasion for him to use his authority as president
in the infliction of fines, for every one in turn, when called upon,
did his best, and the choruses were heard over the whole of the naval
camp.
"Hullo! What's all this noise about?" said a cheery voice presently,
as a head was put through the opening of the tent.
The midshipmen all jumped to their feet.
"We are having a jollification, sir," Allison said, "on the things
Archer brought up from Balaklava yesterday. Are we making too much
noise, sir?"
"Not a bit, lads," the first lieutenant said. "It's cheerful to hear
you. It isn't much enjoyment that we get on this bleak plateau. Well,
good-night. You mustn't keep it up after 'lights out,' you know."
"That's something like a first lieutenant," Allison said, when Mr.
Hethcote had retired. "Most of them look as if they'd swallowed a
ramrod, and treat middies as if they were the dust of the earth. I'm
quite sure that a man who is genial and nice gets his work done ever
so much better than do those stand-off fellows. I see in your camp,"
he said to the officers, "colonels and majors standing and chatting to
the young officers just as pleasantly and freely as a party of
gentlemen on shore. Why the captain of a ship should hold himself as
if he were a little god, is a thing I have never been able to make
out. I'm sure you fellows obey orders on parade none the less promptly
and readily because the colonel has been chatting with you in the
mess-room half an hour before. But don't let us waste time. Archer,
it's your turn for a song."
And so merrily the hours passed away, until it was time to break up
and put out the lights. And as the young fellows laughed and sung,
while the mist and rain came down pitilessly outside, they little
thought what was preparing for the morrow, or dreamed that the
churches in Sebastopol were crowded with Russian soldiers praying the
saints to give them victory on the morrow, and to aid them to drive
the enemies of the Czar into the sea.
CHAPTER IX.
INKERMAN
It was soon after five in the morning when the pickets of the second
division, keeping such watch as they were able in the misty light,
while the rain fell steadily and thickly, dimly perceived a gray mass
moving up the hill from the road at the end of the harbor. Although
this point was greatly exposed to attack, nothing had been done to
strengthen the position. A few lines of earthworks, a dozen guns in
batteries, would have made the place secure from a sudden attack. But
not a sod had been turned, and the steep hillside lay bare and open to
the advance of an enemy.
Although taken by surprise, and wholly ignorant of the strength of the
force opposed to them, the pickets stood their ground, but before the
