CHAPTER I.

Anniversaries--An Explosion--Casualties--Terrible Scene--Cause of the Catastrophe--Accident in the Redan--Samuel Goodram--Love of Fighting--Contrast between the Years 1854 and 1855--The Flank March--Mistakes in the first Instance--Russian Troops--The Sports of Sebastopol.

The month of November would seem to have been ruled by some genius unfavourable to our arms. If it gave to us the glorious remembrance of a profitless and bloody victory, it also brought with it a day of disaster and gloom--the beginning of a long series of calamities. The first anniversary of that day passed away amid mutual congratulations and reminiscences, rendered all the more joyous by the contrast between the present and the past. We had beheld a spectacle of unusual splendour and grandeur, one indeed which no native of these isles has ever yet witnessed, so far as I am aware. On the 14th of November, 1855, the purity of the air--the health of the troops--the abundance of stores--the excellence of the roads--the quantity of hutting--the hospital accommodation--the fineness of the day--the beauty of the sky--the dryness of the soil--the prospects of the army--the bright-hued future: all these were contrasted by a myriad tongues in endless difference of phrase, coloured by many a recollection of personal suffering. There was no sorrow, no calamity could reach us now, and of all things which fate could grant us, most of all were we desirous of meeting that alone with which fate seemed to threaten us--an assault by the enemy. But, suddenly, up from the very centre of our camp, so that every ear should hear and every eye should see, rushed with such a crash as may forewarn the world of its doom, and with such a burst of flame and smoke as may never yet have been seen by man, except in the throes of some primeval eruption, a ghastly pillar of sulphureous vapour. It spread as it rose, bearing aloft for hundreds of yards men, horses, fragments of limbs, rocks, shells, and cannon-shot, and then extended its folds in writhing involutions, as though it were tortured by the fire within, raining them down over the astounded soldiery below! For a moment the boldest lost heart, and "the bravest held his breath." There was no safety in flight--the wings of the wind could not have left that dreadful shower of iron behind; and as one of the most collected and cool soldiers in the army said to me, "I had only presence of mind to throw myself on the ground and ask the forgiveness of God, and I received his mercy!" In fact, the effect resembled some great convulsion of nature. Many thought it was an earthquake; others fancied it was the outburst of a volcano; others, that the Russians had got hold of Lord Dundonald's invention, and that they had just given it a first trial. Indeed, one officer said to another, as soon as he recovered breath and could speak, "I say, that's a nice sort of thing, is it not? The sooner we go after that the better." He was persuaded the Russians had thrown some new and unheard-of instrument of destruction into the camp.

I was riding from head-quarters, reading my letters, and had just reached the hill, or elevated part of the plateau, at the time, and happened to be looking in the very direction of the park when the explosion took place. The phenomena were so startling as to take away one's breath. Neither pen nor pencil could describe them. The earth shook. The strongest houses rocked to and fro. Men felt as if the very ground upon which they stood was convulsed by an earthquake. The impression of these few moments can never be eradicated. One's confidence in the stability of the very earth was staggered. _Suppositos incedimus ignes._ What part of the camp was safe after such a catastrophe? The rush of fire, smoke, and iron, in one great pillar, attained a height I dare not estimate, and then seemed to shoot out like a tree, which over-shadowed half the camp on the right, and rained down missiles upon it. The colour of the pillar was dark grey, flushed with red, but it was pitted all over with white puffs of smoke, which marked the explosions of the shells. It retained the shape of a fir-tree for nearly a minute, and then the sides began to swell out and the overhanging canopy to expand and twist about in prodigious wreaths of smoke, which flew out to the right and left, and let drop, as it were from solution in its embrace, a precipitate of shells, carcasses, and iron projectiles. The noise was terrible; and when the shells began to explode, the din was like the opening crash of one of the great cannonades or bombardments of the siege. I clapped spurs to my horse and rode off as hard as I could towards the spot as soon as my ears had recovered the shock. As I rode along I could see thousands hurrying away from the place, and thousands hastening to it. The smoke became black; the fire had caught the huts and tents. General Windham overtook me, riding from head-quarters as hard as he could go. He was ignorant of the cause and locality of the explosion, and was under the impression that it was one of the French redoubts. Sir Richard Airey followed close after him, and General Codrington rode towards the fire a few minutes afterwards.

[Sidenote: THE GREAT EXPLOSION.]

On arriving close to the place, I saw that the ground had been torn up in all directions. The fragments of shell were still smoking, and shells were bursting around in most unpleasant proximity. Captain Piggott, in a short time, came up with the ambulances at a gallop, and urged the horses through the flames and amid the exploding shell in order to render assistance to the sufferers; and in this arduous duty he was manfully and courageously assisted by Surgeons Alexander, Muir, Mouat, and others. As we were all looking on at the raging fire, an alarm spread that the mill used as a powder magazine had caught fire. A regular panic ensued--horses and men tore like a storm through the camp of the Second Division. I did not escape the contagion, but, at my servant's solicitation, mounted my horse, and rode off like the rest. I soon came up to Colonel Percy Herbert, who was actively engaged in trying to get the men of his Division under arms, but he told me he could find neither drummers, buglers, officers, nor sergeants. The panic was soon over. The mill did not catch, though the roof and doors and windows were blown in. The officers, in the most devoted way, stripped, and placed 300 wet blankets over the powder inside just as the flames were raging behind the mill and at the side of it within 200 yards. Hundreds of rockets rushed hissing and bursting through the air, sheets of flame shot up from exploding powder, carcasses glared out fiercely through black clouds of smoke, and shells burst, tossing high in air burning beams of wood and showers of sparks, and boxes of small-arm ammunition exploded with a rattling report like musketry, and flew about in little balls of fire.

My reading in military matters is not sufficient to enable me to say, with any confidence, that there never was so terrible an explosion; but having witnessed and heard the explosions at Pavlovskaia and Kertch, at Oczakoff, of the French magazines on the 17th of October, 1854, and of the Russian forts on the 9th of September, 1855, I must say that, in volume of sound, in appalling effect, they were far exceeded in vehemence and grandeur by this tremendously abrupt and startling catastrophe. The quantity of Russian powder which went up was about 1,700 barrels, and there were about 800 barrels of French powder exploded in the three magazines. Each barrel contained about 100lb. weight of gunpowder, so that the total quantity which furnished the elements of this prodigious combustion cannot have been less than 250,000lb. But in addition to that enormous mass of powder there were vast mounds of shell, carcasses, rockets, and small-arm ammunition, contributing to the intensity and violence of the fiery blast.

Appalling as was the shock to those who were near, the effect was little diminished by distance. The roar and concussion were so great in Balaklava that the ships in harbour, and outside at anchor, trembled and quivered, and the houses shook to their foundations. The ships at Kamiesch and Kazatch reeled and rolled from side to side. Mules and horses, seven and eight miles away, broke loose, and galloped across the country, wild with fright. The noise pealed through the passes at Baidar like the loudest thunder. The sense of hearing was quite deadened in many persons, and their nervous systems have not yet recovered the shock, so that any sudden noise startles them. The French had 6 officers killed and 13 wounded; 65 of their men, mostly of the artillery, were killed, and 170 wounded, of whom many will never recover. The destruction in money value of articles appertaining to the siege-train was very great. But when we came to men--to those gallant fellows who had survived the battles and the dangers of the campaign--our loss was irreparable. What value could be placed on those noble artillerymen of the siege-train who, with little praise or encouragement, stood by their guns in so many bombardments, and who had acquired skill, practice, and hardihood in the greatest siege the world ever saw?

The casualties in the Light Division were as follows:--

7th Fusiliers, 1 killed, 12 wounded; 19th Regiment, 9 wounded; 23rd Fusiliers, 2 killed, 6 wounded; 33rd Regiment, 2 killed, 13 wounded; 34th Regiment, 1 killed, 14 wounded; 77th Regiment, 3 killed, 6 wounded; 88th Regiment, 2 wounded; 90th Regiment, 1 wounded; Rifle Brigade, 1 killed, 6 wounded; total 10 killed, 69 wounded.

[Sidenote: SUPPOSED CAUSE OF THE EXPLOSION.]

The Right Siege Train suffered as severely--seven poor fellows were buried the first night, and the bodies of three more artillerymen were so torn and scattered that their remains could not be collected for interment. To this loss of ten must be added that of seven artillerymen "missing." The total of the casualties in the train amounted to fifty-two. Mr. Yellon, Deputy Assistant-Commissary of the field train, a most active, zealous officer, whose name was mentioned along with that of Mr. Hayter in Colonel St. George's despatch, was blown to pieces. Lieutenant Roberts had his left arm broken, and was severely burnt; Lieutenant Dawson lost his leg above the ankle from a dead shell, which struck him as he was in the act of carrying off a live shell from the park to a place of safety. The legs, arms, and trunks of men were blown into the camps of the Rifle Brigade and of the 34th Regiment, on the extreme right of the Light Division. I saw lying amid a heap of ruins, of old iron stores, rubbish, shot, splinters of shell and beams of wood, a man's arm scorched and burnt black, on which the tattered pieces of clothing retained the traces of a sergeant's gold stripes. The dead were terrible to look upon; but the living in their agony were still more frightful. I solemnly declare, that from the lips of none of these mutilated masses which I saw stretched out in long rows in every hospital did I hear either groan or sigh. No sound escaped them, as those who could see rolled their sad orbs and gazed upon the stranger, except in one instance, when an involuntary expression of pain was uttered by a poor French soldier in the hospital of the 23rd, where he had been trepanned, and was all but beyond the reach of his misery. Although the Russians have been justly praised for their endurance of pain, I must say I never beheld them submit to such tortures as our men experienced. As I looked upon the shattered frames before me, in which such noble spirits were enshrined, I could not but remember the howls of a Russian corporal, at Kinburn, who had been wounded in the heel. The surgeons displayed the greatest courage and kindness, and every man was at his post in the midst of fire and shell. Drs. Muir, Watt, Mouat, and Longmore particularly distinguished themselves.

Marshal Pelissier named a commission of inquiry to report upon the cause of the disastrous accident. Our men declared, of course, that it was the work of an incendiary. General Codrington seemed to give credence to the report, inasmuch as he ordered the army to turn out an hour before daybreak, to be prepared for the Russians if they really had calculated on crippling us.

The manner in which this great disaster was caused is said to have been this:--Some French artillerymen were engaged in shifting powder from case to case in the park, and as the operation is rather dangerous, every precaution was taken to prevent accidents. The powder was poured from one case into the other through copper funnels, and no fire was allowed near the place where the men were so employed. As one of the soldiers was pouring the powder out of a case he perceived a fragment of shell gliding out of it into the funnel, and, not wishing to let it get into the other case, he jerked the funnel to one side; the piece of shell fell on the stones, which were covered with loose powder, and is supposed to have struck fire in its fall, for the explosion took place at once. Miraculous as it may appear, this artilleryman, who was, as it were, in the focus of the explosion, escaped alive, being only slightly burnt and scorched. His comrade, who held the other case was blown to atoms. Another strange incident was the death of the French commandant of artillery for the day. He was near the park at the time of the explosion, and as soon as he had seen everything in order, he went off to have a look at the French batteries in and about Sebastopol, on which the Russians had just opened a heavy fire. As he rode along, a cannon-shot struck off his head. The escapes were astounding.--Clothes were torn off men's backs; the chairs or beds on which they sat, the tables at which they were eating, the earth on which they stood, were broken and torn by shot, shell, rocket-irons, shrapnell, grape, canister, and musket-balls, which literally rained down upon them. The distance to which fragments flew exceeds belief. It is difficult to explain it by mere names of localities. One piece of shell flew over Cathcart's Hill; another killed a horse in New Kadikoi. Some struck men and horses in the Guards' camp. In the Land Transport Corps of the Light Division fourteen horses were killed and seventeen were wounded. One flew over my hut; another struck the ground close to it; another went into the camp of the Land Transport Corps behind it. Mrs. Seacole, who keeps a restaurant near the Col, avers that a piece of stone struck her door, which is three and a half or four miles from the park. Pieces struck and damaged the huts in New Kadikoi. There had been some warnings of the dangers of carelessness already.

The day before the explosion Samuel Goodram, No. 6 Company, Coldstreams, a soldier of the same regiment, and a sergeant, were on duty in the Redan; the two men went into one of the casemates to remove powder and rubbish, while the sergeant remained outside. Scarcely had the men entered before an explosion took place. Goodram was blown into the air, and then buried amid fragments of gabions and falling earth, and both men were buried in the Guards' cemetery next day. I am the more particular in giving names, that I may relate an anecdote of Goodram at the attack on the Redan. The night before the attack, the Coldstreams were on duty, and were relieved some hours before the assault. On arriving at camp, Samuel Goodram was missing; and it was feared that he had gone away to indulge in potations, or had been hit as he came from the trenches. But this gallant soldier had remained behind from a pure love of fighting, and from a desire "to have a go in at the Roosians." Knowing that the assault would take place in a few hours, Goodram, as the regiment mustered and marched off, had secreted himself in the trenches, and employed his leisure time before his comrades left in filling the breast of his coat and every available place about his person with cartridges from their boxes, fearing that his private supply of fifty rounds would fail him before he had got his fill of fighting. When the storming party was advancing from the fifth parallel, Goodram appeared, rifle in hand, and joined it as a volunteer, and his regiment claim him as being the first private soldier in the Redan on that memorable day. He was twice driven out of the Redan, and was over and over again engaged individually with the Russians, and in these encounters he received two wounds--one in the side and one in the arm--but still kept up a fire when driven back by the last rush of the enemy's infantry, and forced over the parapet with the rest of our men into the ditch. Instead, however, of retiring with the others, as opportunity offered, and keeping in the ditch or getting under cover in the parallels, Goodram made an impromptu rifle-pit on the broken glacis outside the ditch, and there he maintained his fire on the enemy till his ammunition became exhausted, and his wounds so painful that he could no longer use his rifle. Then he shouldered his arms and marched stiffly up through the trenches and across the open space till he reported himself to his regiment. He was, I believe, tried for being absent without leave and for stealing his comrades' cartridges, but Minos himself could not have condemned a soldier like this to any severe punishment for a crime which Minos's jurymen would have called heroic.

[Sidenote: RETROSPECTS]