CHAPTER IV.

A few days quietude--Languishment of British firing--Prince Gortschakoff's opinion of our feeble Squibs--Number of little globules thrown into Sebastopol in a Month--Efforts to suppress the number of Sutlers' houses--Conversation with John Bull as to Composition of Allied Forces, &c.--Terrific and Destructive Explosion--Heavy and fierce Cannonading--Rumours of Disorganization in Sebastopol--Heavy Losses in Allied Armies--Naval Theatricals--Crisis of the Siege--Rumours of a last Grand Attack or a Sortie by Russians--Eagerness of Allies for a Battle--Dangerous work of the Trenches--Proposal for a Trench service Decoration--Condition of Sardinians and French--Fatalities amongst New and Amateur Trenchmen--Renewed Musketry and Artillery firing--Crowded state of our Trenches--Effective ruse of the Russians.

All the latter part of August passed quietly away: the Russians on the alert to resist an assault--we prepared to meet the rumoured attack upon our lines. After the failure of June 18, our cannonade languished. We talked of it as slackening, and considered it extinct. Prince Gortschakoff assured the world that it was a mere squib, a feeble firework, which did those tough Russians no harm, and caused their troops no inconvenience; and yet, somehow or other, between the 18th of June and 18th of July, not less than eight thousand pretty little globules of iron, eight, ten, and thirteen inches in diameter, and falling with a weight equivalent to fifty and to ninety tons, were deposited inside the lines of Sebastopol, and every one that burst sent forth some six or eight fragments, of several pounds weight each, a distance of two or three hundred yards, unless they were stopped _in transitu_ by traverse or sinew.

The authorities took active measures to curtail the proportions of the vast village of suttlers' houses at Kadikoi. As there was a report that the fair was a nest of spies--that strange fires were occasionally lighted up on the hills behind it, towards Karanyi, and were answered by the Russians on the Plateau Mackenzie, and people came and departed as they listed without any interference with their movements, it was resolved to keep its limits more under control and supervision.

Some divisions managed to get together a considerable accumulation of stores in advance, and almost in anticipation of the winter, but fuel was brought up _de die in diem_ by a most thriftless process. It was no unusual thing to see a string of fine Spanish mules and ponies, each of which cost a good round sum, coming from Kasatch or Balaklava with a couple of stout boughs lashed to each side of their pack-saddles, the ends trailing on the ground, and the drivers urging them at full speed. The proper load of wood for a mule is 200lb. Judging from the loads I saw weighed, they actually carried less than 100lb., and at the same time the costly pack-saddles were ruined, and the animals distressed and injured by this clumsy mode of carriage. As I could not help exclaiming at the time, "How the money is flying! If Mr. John could but have stood upon one of the hill-tops in the Crimea, and if, after gladdening his heart with the sight of his fine fleet floating grandly on the water outside the 'beleaguered city,'--rejoicing over his brave sons whose white tents studded the brown steppe row after row,--and rubbing his hands with delight at the thunder of his batteries--he would just have wiped his glasses and looked at the less glorious and exciting portions of the scene, he would have some uneasy tinglings in his breeches-pockets, depend on it."

"Where are all these horses going to?"

"Oh, they're Spanish horses, which have been _cast_ by the artillery, and they're going to be sold as unfit for service."

"Why, Lord bless me! it's only a few months since I paid £30,000 for that very lot, and they've done nothing, I hear, but stand at their picket ropes ever since. They cost me, I'm sure, carriage and all, £100 a-piece. What do you think I'll get for them?"

"Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I don't think as how they'll fetch more than £10 a-head, if so much."

[Sidenote: CONVERSATION WITH JOHN BULL.]

To speak plainly, for the old gentleman's peace of mind, I would not advise him to be too inquisitive, and a visit to the camp, when in its most flourishing condition and healthy aspect, might injure his nerves irremediably.

"Who are those fellows in that secluded valley, hunting among the vines for some grapes, while their horses are left to wander through the neglected gardens?"

"They belong to Division A, or B, or C, or D; see the letter branded upon the horses' flanks. They are Turks, Elamites, Affghans, dwellers in Mesopotamia, Kurds, Parthians, Canaanites, Greeks, for whose services in the Land Transport Corps you, John, pay daily the sum of 3s. per man, and they ought now to be carrying up provisions for your soldiers; but, being philosophers of the Epicurean school, they prefer the pursuit of the grape and the _insouciance_ of the siesta to tramping over dusty roads, or urging their mad career down stony ravines on thy much be-whacked quadrupeds!"

"And those miles of mules and carts winding all along the plain, emerging from ravines, ascending hills, and that vast army of drivers in quaint attire, the concentration of the floating vagabondage of the world, the flotsam and jetsam of the social life of every nation, civil and barbarous, on earth--to whom do they belong, and who pays them and for them?"

"Even you, my dear sir, and very handsomely too, I can assure you."

"And those ships in Balaklava?"

"Yours again, sir; but don't be uneasy; things are managed better there now; occasionally the authorities root out a great demurrager, and send her off hopping after she has lain _perdu_ some months doing nothing. The other day the _Walmer Castle_, a fine Indiaman, sir, was sent off at last--she had been in Balaklava since February, doing nothing but affording comfortable lodgings for a few of the authorities. But we won't talk of these things any more, for really the arrangements are much improved."

"Who are those officers in blue, with grey, yellow, and red facing's--apparently men of rank, with stars and crowns and lace on their collars?"

"They are of the Land Transport Corps--captains and quartermasters of brigade."

"Hallo! is there a theatrical company here? Who're the queer-looking chaps with the huntsmen-in-_Der-Freischutz_-caps and tunics, smoking short pipes, and driving their carts like so many Jehus?"

"Well, we have the Zouave Theatre and the Sailors' Theatre, but these men belong to Colonel McMurdo, and certainly they have let their hats get cruelly out of shape; they were neat enough and looked well while the rosettes were clean, but now----"

"And who are the gentlemen in grey, with black braid and swords, and pouch-belts and telescopes--some new riflemen, eh?--capital dress for sharpshooters."

"Why, dear me, sir, don't you know those are harmless civilians, who neither wish to shoot any one or to be shot at themselves? They are civil engineers and civilians belonging to your recently formed Army Works Corps."

"Hallo! here's another--what's he? a felt helmet with a spike in it and brass binding--a red frock with black braid--a big horse--a cavalry man, eh?"

"Well, he's one of the Mounted Staff Corps, and he gets as much as an Ensign in the line for being ready to go anywhere--when he's wanted."

"Who's that drunken fellow--an old soldier in the odd uniform, with medals on his breast?"

"Hush! he's the last one left of the Ambulance Corps. They cost a lot of money, and did some good, but McMurdo won't have them now, unless he gets his own way with them, and----"

"I beg your pardon, but who is that foreign officer in a white bournous, and attended by a brilliant staff of Generals--him with the blue and silver stripe down his trousers I mean, and gold braid on his waistcoat, and a red and white cap; it must be Pelissier?"

"_That!_ why, that's M. Soyer, _chef de nos batteries de cuisine_, and if you go and speak to him, you'll find he'll talk to you for several hours about the way your meat is wasted; and so I wish you good morning, sir, and every success in trade and commerce to enable you to pay all the gentlemen you have seen to-day, as well as a speedy entry into Sebastopol."

[Sidenote: JACK TAR'S THEATRE.]

At one o'clock on the 30th August the camp was shaken by a prodigious explosion. A tumbrel, from which the French were discharging powder into one of the magazines near the Mamelon, was struck by a shell, which bursting as it crashed through the roof of the carriage, ignited the cartridges; 1400 rounds, 10lbs each, exploded, shattering to atoms the magazine, and surrounding-works, and whirling in all directions over the face of the Mamolen and beyond it, 150 officers and men. Of these, 40 were killed upon the spot, and the rest were scorched and burnt, or wounded by splinters, stones, and the shot and shell which were thrown into the air by the fiery eruption. A bright moon lighted up the whole scene, and shed its rays upon a huge pillar of smoke and dust, which rose into the air from the Mamelon, and, towering to an immense height, unfolded itself and let fall from its clustering waves of smoke and sulphurous vapour a black precipitate of earth, fine dust, and pebbles, mingled with miserable fragments, which dropped like rain upon the works below. There was silence for an instant, and but for an instant, as the sullen thunder rolled slowly away and echoed along the heights of Inkerman and Mackenzie. Then the Russians, leaping to their guns, cheered loudly, but their voices were soon smothered in the crash of the French and English batteries, which played fiercely upon their works. The Russians replied, but they were unable to take any advantage of our mischance, owing to the firmness of the French in the advanced trenches, and the steadiness with which the cannonade was continued. The dark cloud hung like a pall for nearly an hour over the place, reddening every moment with the reflection of the flashes of the artillery, which boomed incessantly till dawn. The musketry was very heavy and fierce all along the advanced trenches, and as no one except those in the parallels near the Mamelon knew the precise nature of the explosion, great anxiety was manifested to learn the truth. Some persons asserted that the Russians had sprung a mine--others, that the French had blown in the counterscarp of the Malakoff--and with the very spot under their eyes, people were conjecturing wildly what had taken place; just like those at home, who did not hesitate to make the boldest assertions respecting the events which occurred in the Crimea, and of which they knew neither the scene nor the circumstance.

There were rumours that the garrison of Sebastopol was in an extremely disorganized state. The losses in the town were frightful, and notwithstanding their official and non-official declarations, the Russians suffered from want of water and of spirits. Indeed, it was confidently affirmed that, owing to the deficiency of forage, their cavalry had been compelled to fall back on the road to Bakschiserai. They threw up another battery, close to the Spur Battery, commanding a small path from the Tchernaya. The French constructed strong redoubts on the site of the old redoubts in the plain. These works were in connection with the outer line of defence from Kamara, Traktir, and Tchorgoun, and the Sardinian and Turkish batteries towards Baidar, and behind them were the old batteries defending Balaklava, which became one of the strongest positions in the world.

Our allies were losing heavily, in the White Works, which they captured on the 7th of June, where they lost one-half of the men who went into it every day. The 12-gun battery on the north side took them in flank and reverse, the Malakoff enfiladed them on the other side, and they were exposed to the direct fire of the shipping in front. They called the place "l'Abattoir." Our own losses were very heavy, but still the army were full of hope and courage.

As for Jack Tar, he can speak for himself. This was the bill of his play:--

THEATRE ROYAL, NAVAL BRIGADE.

On Friday Evening, 31st of August, will be Performed

DEAF AS A POST!

To be followed by

THE SILENT WOMAN.

The whole to conclude with the laughable Farce, entitled,

SLASHER AND CRASHER.

Seats to be taken at 7 o'clock. Performance to commence precisely at 8 o'clock.

God save the Queen! Rule Britannia!

And right well they played. True, the theatre was the amputating house of the Brigade, but no reflections as to its future and past use marred the sense of present enjoyment. The scenes were furnished from the _London_, the actors from the Brigade. There was an agreeable ballet girl, who had to go into the trenches to work a 68-pounder at three o'clock in the morning, and Rosa was impersonated by a prepossessing young boatswain's mate. Songs there were in plenty, with a slight smack of the forecastle, and a refrain of big guns booming down the ravine from the front; but they were all highly appreciated, and the dancing was pronounced to be worthy of Her Majesty's ere Terpsichore and Mr. Lumley retired. Nor were fashionable and illustrious personages wanting to grace the performance with their presence, and to relieve the mass of 2,000 commoners who cheered and laughed and applauded so good-humouredly. The "Duke of Newcastle" paid marked attention to _Deaf as a Post_, and led the _encore_ for a hornpipe. Lord Rokeby was as assiduous as his Grace. The sense of enjoyment was not marred by the long-range guns, which now and then sent a lobbing shot near the theatre; and if the audience were amused, so were the performers, who acted with surprising spirit and taste. What would old Benbow or grim old Cloudesley Shovell have thought of it all?

There was a sortie early on the morning of the 1st of September on the advanced trenches of our right attack, and the Russians kept up a very heavy fire upon our working parties.

[Sidenote: PROPOSED DECORATION FOR TRENCH SERVICE.]

As the crisis of the siege approached, it was affirmed that the enemy were about to try the chances of war once more, in one grand attack, at three or four points between Baidar and the gorge of Inkerman, and to make a sortie in force on our works. Prince Gortschakoff, Generals Liprandi, Paniutin, and Osten-Sacken were mentioned as the generals of the attacking columns. The mass was concentrated on the plateau between Kamishli and Kalankoi, on the south side of the Belbek, supported by divisions echeloned on the road to Bakschiserai. Near Kalankoi a bad and difficult mountain road to Balaklava crosses the Belbek; strikes off to the right to Mackenzie's Farm; descending thence from the plateau, crosses the Tchernaya at the bridge of the Traktir, and sweeps across the plain of Balaklava, intersecting in its course the Woronzoff Road. Several paths or indifferent roads branch from this grand causeway ere it descends the plateau of Mackenzie's Farm, leading by Chuliou and Ozenbasch towards Baidar, and it was thought that the Russians might have put these in tolerable condition, and rendered them available for the passage of troops and artillery. The Russians concentrated considerable masses in and about Upu, Ozenbasch, and Chuliou, and Prince Gortschakoff visited the army destined to operate against the Turks, French, and Sardinians on the rear, and was prodigal of promises and encouragement. The intelligence received by the English, French, and Turkish Generals coincided on these points, and was believed to be entirely trustworthy. It seemed incredible that any General would trust his army among those defiles and mountain-passes, because a failure on the part of the corps on his right to seize Tchorgoun and Kamara would have left him without support, and an active enemy could have easily pursued and crushed him before he could have possibly gained the plateau from which he had descended. Nothing would have given such universal satisfaction to the whole army as another attempt by the enemy to force our position. If the Russians descended into the plain we were sure of success, and the prospect of a sanguinary engagement gave positive pleasure to both officers and men, alike weary of the undistinguished, if not inglorious, service of the trenches.

With nearly 3,000 English, and upwards of 5,000 French sabres, we should have made signal examples of our defeated foes in their retreat; and our 56 field guns, all in high efficiency and order, together with the admirable batteries of the French, would have annihilated any artillery which the Russians could have placed in position. As to their cavalry, they were inferior in number to our own, and in dash and pluck they could not have matched the men who charged at Balaklava. As to a sortie, although it might have been made with large bodies of men, it had no better chance of success, for our reserves had been kept in readiness to act at once, and the force in the trenches was greatly augmented. It had been our practice to send only 1,400 men into the trenches of the left attack, of which one-half was of the reserve; and, as the latter were allowed to go back to camp in the day, it frequently happened that only 700 men were left to guard the whole of our extensive works in Chapman's attack. But afterwards our force was increased, and the reserves were maintained in all their integrity, so as to be ready to give efficient support to the trench guard should the enemy make any serious demonstration against our lines.

I took the opportunity of referring to this matter to make the following remarks, which many officers at the time assured me conveyed their feelings on the subject: "And here I may be permitted to offer one word on behalf of such officers and men as have not had an opportunity of sharing the honours conferred on those who have been so fortunate as to be engaged in general actions during this war. I am certain that there is a very general feeling in the army that there should be some distinctive decoration for 'service in the trenches.' Men have been decorated for the battles of the Alma, Inkerman, and Balaklava, who were not in the least danger, or even more under fire than if they had remained in their club card-room; but no man goes into the trenches who is not exposed to a heavy fire and to continual danger. The Adjutant-General's returns will show that in a fortnight we lose nearly as many officers and men as are put _hors de combat_ in a regular battle, although it will be observed that the proportion of officers to men killed and wounded is far smaller than it is on occasions of drawn battle. A man who has served thirty nights in the trenches will have undergone more fire than if he had been in the hottest fight of the campaign. Why not let him have a decoration, were it only a bit of iron with the words 'Trenches before Sebastopol' engraved upon it? The arduous nature of our trench service is best indicated by our returns, and by the fact that many young officers who come out from England are rendered unfit or unable to discharge their duties after a few weeks' experience. Although there are many complaints of the rawness of the recruits, they are as nothing compared to the outcry against the crudity of the lads who are despatched as 'officers' to the Crimea, and who perforce must be sent in responsible positions into the trenches. A reference to the daily General Orders will satisfy any one of the truthfulness of that outcry. The number of officers who sicken and are ordered home, or to Scutari, or to go on board ship, is increasing, and it is not found that the recently arrived regiments furnish the smallest portion of those worn out by _ennui_, and reduced from good health to a state of illness by a few days' service. The old officers, of course, grumble, and the grim veterans who have remained with their regiments since the beginning of the campaign are indignant at having as comrades puling boys, who, from no fault of their own, are utterly helpless and inefficient, and soon sicken, and leave the duties of the regiment to be performed by their overworked seniors. Why should not vacancies in regiments out here be filled up from regiments stationed elsewhere? Such a course was pursued in the Chinese war, in our Indian wars, and I believe in the long war, and it secured the services of experienced soldiers. There are many ensigns of four, five, and six years' standing in the latter regiments, while it would be difficult to find many lieutenants who have seen so much service in any regiment which has been here since the beginning of the war.

"With all our experience we still permit the existence of absurdities and anomalies. About 100 doctors are sick from overwork or of disgust, and yet we have civil hospitals on the Dardanelles, maintained at some expense, in which the medical men have so little to do that they come up to camp to 'tout' for patients and practice. The surgeons say that, as it is very evident Government will never give them any honour or reward, except mere service promotion and pay, they will look to the latter alone, and it may be easily imagined in what frame of mind they will serve in cases where they can escape the necessity of energetic exertion. With a kind of refined irony, two of the medical officers were 'invited to attend' at the investiture of the K.C.B.'s the other day, as none of them were eligible as C.B.'s. Two commissariat officers were kindly invited to represent their body. These complaints are the echoes of voices in the camp, loud enough to be heard, and as such I report them."

The Sardinians, acclimatized, flushed with triumph, and anxious for another opportunity to try their steel, formed a fine corps of about 8,000 effective bayonets, and the Turks could turn out about 13,000 strong. The French, notwithstanding their losses in the capture of the Mamelon, in the assault on the 18th of June, and, above all, in the trenches, where they had on an average 150 _hors de combat_ on "quiet nights," and perhaps twice as many when the enemy were busy, could present 55,000 bayonets to the enemy.

[Sidenote: EFFECTIVE RUSE OF THE RUSSIANS.]

From the French sap in front of the Mamelon one could at this period _lay his hand on the abattis of the Malakoff_! It was a hazardous experiment sometimes. Major Graham lost his arm in trying it _en amateur_, for he was hit as he was returning up the trench; indeed, it was a subject of remark that amateurs and officers who had then recently come into the trenches were more frequently hit than was consistent with the rules of proportion. Mr. Gambier, a midshipman of the _Curaçoa_, went as an amateur into the advanced parallel of the left attack, and took a shot at a Russian rifleman; he was rewarded by a volley from several of the enemy, and in another instant was going up on a stretcher, with a ball through both his thighs. It was a very common thing to hear it said, "Poor Smith is killed; just imagine--his first night in the trenches." "Jones lost a leg last night; only joined us this week, and his second night on duty," &c. The Russians, of course, suffered in the same way, but I doubt if they had many amateurs. They had quite enough of legitimate fighting, and their losses were prodigious.

On the 3rd of September, at a quarter past 9 P.M., a heavy fire of musketry to the left of the Malakoff showed that the enemy were attacking. The night was dark, but clear, and for half an hour our lines were a blaze of quick, intermittent light. The musketry rattled incessantly. Chapman's and Gordon's Batteries opened with all their voices, and the Redan, Malakoff, Garden, and Barrack Batteries replied with roars of ordnance. When the musketry fire flickered and died out, commenced for a quarter of an hour a general whirling of shells, so that the light of the very stars was eclipsed, and their dominion usurped by the wandering flight of these iron orbs. Twenty or thirty of these curves of fire tearing the air asunder and uttering their shrill "tu whit! tu whit! tu whit!" as they described their angry flight in the sky, could be counted and heard at once. While it lasted, it was one of the hottest affairs we have yet experienced.

A party of the 97th, under Captain Hutton, was posted in the advanced trench of the left of the Right Attack. The Russians attacked our working party and drove it in. Lieutenant Brinkley and Lieutenant Preston, with 100 of the 97th, were ordered to proceed to the right of the new sap. On arriving at the trench they found it crowded with the 23rd, that it was impossible to keep the party of the 97th together. This crowded state of the trench is said to have arisen from the 23rd not having recommenced working, and remaining in the trench with the covering party of the 77th, when the firing ceased. At 12.30 Lieutenant-Colonel Legh, 97th, was ordered to take his men to Colonel Bunbury, 23rd, who was in advance of the new sap. He collected forty-five rank and file, and telling Lieutenant Preston to advance with the rest, proceeded to the head of the sap. Here Lieutenant Preston was hit, and one man killed. About fifteen yards in front of the sap were stationed Colonel Bunbury and a party of the 77th, under Captain Pechell. That party having been relieved by the 97th, Colonel Legh placed his men in cover, sending out two parties under Sergeants Coleman and O'Grady in advance. The Russians all of a sudden gave a loud cheer, and the 97th stood up, expecting a rush. When the Russians saw the effect of their ruse, they fired a volley, Lieutenant Preston, in front of Colonel Legh, was mortally wounded, and carried to the rear by Sergeant Coleman; Sergeant O'Grady fell dead just as he had demanded permission to take the enemy's rifle-pits. Lieutenants Ware and Whitehead were sent down to assist. Ware was wounded; but Lieutenant Whitehead succeeded in bringing in all the wounded, except Corporal Macks, who was lying close to the rifle-pit with two legs broken. Lieutenant Brinkley came up in support. The Russians retired from the pits before dawn, having put 3 officers and 24 men _hors de combat_. The Russians lost at least 600 men. The French loss was upwards of 300 men _hors de combat_.