CHAPTER I.

WHILST I was away with the Kertch expedition, the siege was pressed on by the French with great vigour, and our army was actively employed in preparing for the bombardment which was to precede the fall of the place, as all fondly hoped and believed. There were intervals in the day when you might suppose that "villanous saltpetre" had no more to do with a modern siege than an ancient one, and that all this demonstration of a state of conflict was merely an amicable suit upon an extensive scale. There were times at night when angry and sudden explosions sprang up as if by some unaccountable impulse or conjuration, and continued with an impetuosity which seemed as if it intended to finish the whole business in a moment. There were times when the red fusees turned and tumbled in the air like hot coals belched out of a volcano, and danced successive hornpipes upon nothing; then the clatter of small arms broke upon the ear in distant imitation of the heavy artillery, like a little dog yelping in gratuitous rivalry of a big one. The fighting was done by jerks and starts, and the combatants, like Homer's heroes, stood at ease the best part of the time, and took it coolly, meaning deadly mischief all the while. The sharpest onset was generally on the side of our allies, about the Flagstaff or the Quarantine Battery, where they were sedulously advancing their endless mileage of trench and parallel, and promising themselves a result before long.

For the third time our fire was opened along the whole range of positions on the 6th of June. At half-past two o'clock on that day 157 guns and mortars on our side, and above 300 on that of the French, awoke from silence to tumult.

The two armies—one might say the four armies, but that the Turks and Sardinians were not expected to take a very prominent part in the trench-work and assault—were in strength equal to any achievement, and in spirits ever chiding the delay, and urging that one touch of the bayonet which made all the world scamper. If the strategic necessity pointed to some more decisive action this time, so, on the other hand, the intention of going beyond a vain cannonade was tolerably plain. Our fire was kept up for the first three hours with excessive rapidity, the Russians answering by no means on an equal scale, though with considerable warmth. On our side the predominance of shells was very manifest, and distinguished the present cannonade in some degree even from the last. The superiority of our fire over the enemy became apparent at various points before nightfall, especially in the Redan, which was under the especial attention of the Naval Brigade. The Russians displayed, however, plenty of determination and bravado. They fired frequent salvos at intervals of four or six guns, and also, by way of reprisals, threw heavy shot up to our Light Division and on to the Picquet-house-hill. After dark the animosity on both sides gave signs of relaxing, but the same relative advantage was maintained by our artillery. It was a sultry day, with the dull mist of extreme heat closing down upon the valleys, and with no air to rend away the curtain of smoke which swayed between the town and our batteries; and at night flashes of lightning in the north-east made a counter-illumination on the rear of our position.

A still and sluggish atmosphere, half mist, half gunpowder, hung about the town in the early morning of June the 7th, and the sun enfilading the points of view from the horizon, telescopes were put out of joint. The Redan, however, which rose up boldly in front of the hills that sloped from Cathcart's Mound, gave some evidence of having yielded to rough treatment, the jaws of its embrasures gaping, and its fire being irregular and interrupted.

At nine a cool, strong breeze sprang up, and continued throughout the day. The whole range of fire from right to left became visible in a bright sun, that for once was not scorching. The enemy either could not or would not keep up a very vigorous reply. All the early part of the day we had the work very much to ourselves.

About eleven o'clock a shell from the Russians exploded a magazine in our eight-gun battery, and a yell of delight followed. Very slight harm resulted—one man was killed, one wounded, and a few scorched a little. As the day wore on, it leaked out that the double attack would probably commence at five or six P.M. An immense concourse of officers and men was gathered on Cathcart's Hill, and along the spines of the heights which wind towards Sebastopol. The fire on our side assumed a sudden fury about three o'clock.

Between five and six o'clock Lord Raglan and his staff took up a position on the edge of the hill below the Limekiln, where it commanded our four-gun battery, and looked straight into the teeth of the Redan. About half-past six the head of the French column came into view, as it climbed to the Mamelon. A rocket was thrown up, and instantly our men made a rush at the Quarries. After one slight check they drove out the Russians, and, turning round the gabions, commenced making themselves snug; but the interest was so entirely concentrated upon the more exciting scene, full in view upon the right, that they had to wait a good while before attention was directed to their conflict.

The French went up the steep to the Mamelon in loose order, and in most beautiful style. Every straining eye was upon their movements, which the declining daylight did not throw out into bold relief. Still their figures, like light shadows flitting across the dun barrier of earthworks, were seen to mount up unfailingly—running, climbing, scrambling up the slopes on to the body of the work, amid a plunging fire from the guns, which did them as yet little damage. As an officer, who saw Bosquet wave them on, said, "They went in like a clever pack of hounds." In a moment some of these dim wraiths shone out clear against the sky. The Zouaves were upon the parapet, the next moment a flag was hoisted up as a rallying-point and defiance, and was seen to sway hither and thither, now up, now down, as the tide of battle raged. It was seven minutes and a half from the commencement. Then there came a rush of the French through the angle, where they had entered, and momentary confusion outside. Groups were collected on the hither side in shelter. But hardly had the need of support become manifest, and a gun or two again flashed from the embrasure, than there was another run in, another sharp fight, and this time the Russians went out spiking their guns. Twice the Russians made head against the current, for they had a large mass of troops in reserve, covered by the guns of the Round Tower; twice they were forced back by the onsweeping flood of French. For ten minutes or so the quick flash and roll of small arms declared how the uncertain fight waxed and waned inside the enclosure. Then the back door, if one may use an humble metaphor, was burst open. The noise of the conflict went away down the descent on the side towards the town, and the arena grew larger. It was apparent by the space over which the battle spread, that the Russians had been reinforced. When the higher ground again became the seat of action,—when there came the second rush of the French back upon their supports, for the former one was a mere reflux or eddy of the stream,—when rocket after rocket went up ominously from the French General's position, and seemed to emphasize by their repetition some very plain command, we began to get nervous. It was growing darker and darker, too, so that with our glasses we could with difficulty distinguish the actual state of affairs. There was even a dispute for some time as to whether our allies were going in or out of the work, and the staff themselves were by no means clear as to what was going on. At last, through the twilight, we discerned that the French were pouring in. After the interval of doubt, our ears could gather that the swell and babble of the fight was once more rolling down the inner face of the hill, and that the Russians were conclusively beaten. "They are well into it this time," says one to another, handing over the glass. The musket flashes were no more to be seen within it. There was no more lightning of the heavy guns from the embrasures. A shapeless hump upon a hull, the Mamelon was an extinct volcano, until such time as it should please our allies to call it again into action. Then, at last, the more hidden struggle of our own men in the hollow on the left came uppermost. "How are our fellows getting on?" says one. "Oh! take my word for it, they're all right," says another. And they were, so far as taking the Quarries was concerned, but they had nevertheless to fight all night.

As it grew dark our advanced battery under the Green-hill made very pretty practice by flipping shells over our men's heads at the Russians. From the misshapen outline of the Quarries a fringe of fire kept blazing and sparkling in a waving sort of curve, just like a ring of gas illuminating on a windy night; the attempt to retake them out of hand was desperately pushed, the Russians pouring in musketry, which caused us no small loss, and as it came up the gorge, contending with the fresh wind, sounded in the distance like water gulped simultaneously from a thousand bottles.

Meanwhile the fall of the Mamelon did not by any means bring the combat to an end on the side of our allies. The Zouaves, emboldened by their success, carried their prowess too far, and dreamt of getting into the Round Tower by a coup de main. A new crop of battle grew up over all the intervening hollow between it and the Mamelon, and the ripple of musket shots plashed and leaped over the broad hill-side. The combatants were not enough for victory there too, but they were enough for a sanguinary and prolonged contest, a contest to the eye far more violent than that which preceded it. The tower itself, or rather the inglorious stump of what was once the Round Tower, took and gave shot and shell and musketry with the most savage ardour and rapidity. The fire of its musketry was like one sheet of flame, rolling backwards and forwards with a dancing movement, and, dwarfed as it was by the distance, and seen by us in profile, could scarcely be compared to anything, small or large, except the notes of a piano flashed into fire throughout some rapid tune. Our gunners, observing the duration and aim of the skirmish, redoubled their exertions, and pitched their shells into the Round Tower with admirable precision, doing immense mischief to the defenders. It was dark, and every one of them came out against the heavens as it rose or swooped. From Gordon's Battery and the Second parallel they streamed and plunged one after another into the enceinte up to which the Zouaves had won their way unsupported, heralded every now and then by the prompt and decisive ring of a round shot. The Russian defence, rather than their defences, crumbled away before this tremendous fire, but, on the other hand, the attack not being fed, as it was not designed, began to languish, and died gradually away.

During the night repeated attacks, six in all, were made upon our men in the Quarries, who defended their new acquisition with the utmost courage and pertinacity, and at a great sacrifice of life, against superior numbers, continually replenished. The strength of the party told off for the attack was in all only 1,000, of whom 600 were in support. At the commencement 200 only went in, and another 200 followed. More than once there was a fierce hand-to-hand fight in the position itself, and our fellows had frequently to dash out in front and take their assailants in flank. The most murderous sortie of the enemy took place about three in the morning; then the whole ravine was lighted up with a blaze of fire, and a storm of shot was thrown in from the Strand Battery, and every other spot within range. With a larger body in reserve, it was not doubtful that our men could have been into the Redan. This was asserted freely both by officers and privates, and the latter expressed their opinion in no complimentary manner. They were near enough up to it to see that it was scarcely defended, and one officer lost his life almost within its limits. On our side 365 rank and file, and 35 officers, had been killed and wounded. Our loss in officers killed was great. The 88th were the severest sufferers, having three officers killed, one missing and conjectured to be killed, and four wounded—all indeed who were engaged. The four senior officers of the 62nd were put hors de combat. On the French side nearly double the number of officers, and a total of not less than 1,500 men, probably more. It was stated as high as 3,700. When morning dawned, with the wind blowing even stronger than the day before, the position held by both parties was one of expectation. The French were in great force within and on the outer slopes of the Mamelon, and also in possession of two out of the three offsets attached to the Mamelon on the Sapoune-hill. Their dead were seen lying mixed with Russians upon the broken ground outside the Malakoff Tower, and were being carried up to camp in no slack succession. In the rear of the Mamelon their efforts to intrench themselves were occasionally interrupted by shells from the ships in the harbour, and from a battery not previously known to exist further down the hill, while, on their left front, the Round Tower, showing still its formidable platforms of defence and its ragged embrasures above, fired upon their working parties, in the western face, and upon their reserves in the background.

The ammunition waggons, the ambulance carts, the French mules, with their panniers full freighted, thronged the ravine below our Light Division, which is the straight or rather the crooked road down to the attack on the right. Troops of wounded men came slowly up, some English, the greater portion French, begrimed with the soil of battle. On the left a party of Zouaves had stopped a while to rest their burden, it being the dead bodies of three of their officers. A little lower an English soldier was down on the grass exhausted and well nigh unconscious from some sudden seizure. A party of French were gathered round him, supporting him on the bank, and offering water from their canteens, which he wildly motioned aside. On the right, lining a deep bay in the gorge, was dotted over half a mile of ground a French reserve, with their muskets piled, attending the signal to move forward. They were partially within view of the Malakoff, and the round shot and shell came plumping down in the hollow, producing every minute or so little commotions of the sauve qui peut order, replaced the next moment by the accustomed nonchalance, and the crack of stale charges, fired off by way of precaution.

A lively and even pretty vivandiÈre came striding up the ascent, without a symptom of acknowledgment to the racing masses of iron, and smiling as if the honour of her corps had been properly maintained. At ten o'clock the little incidents of the halting war perceptible through the telescope from the crown of the hill below the Picket-house were these:—At the head of the harbour the Russians were busily engaged burying their dead; outside the abattis of the Round Tower several corpses of Zouaves were to be distinguished; about the Mamelon the French troops were hard at work, some of them stripped for coolness to their drawers, and were seen creeping down the declivity on the side towards the Malakoff, and making themselves a deep shelter from its fire. Our people, meanwhile, on the right attack were calmly shelling the Malakoff in a cool matter-of-business sort of way, but the eternal gun on its right, which has been endowed with nine months of strange vitality, launched an indirect response into the Mamelon. From and after eleven o'clock the Russians, as usual, slackened fire, nor was there any duel of artillery on a great scale until after dark.

On the 9th a white flag from the Round Tower and another on the left announced that the Russians had a petition to make. It was a grave one to make in the middle of a fierce bombardment with events hanging in the balance, and success, perhaps, depending upon the passing moments; but made it was, and granted. From one o'clock until six in the evening no shot was fired on either side, while the dead bodies which strewed the hill between the Mamelon and the Round Tower, or remained in front of the Quarries, were removed from the field. Both of the French and of the Russians large numbers were scattered over the ground of the chief conflict; among the former a large proportion were swarthy indigenes of Arab blood, or, as they were popularly termed by the French soldiers, Turcos, and to their contingent of the killed some were added from the very inside of the Malakoff, showing how near the impromptu attack was delivering the place into our hands. Of the Russians there lay still upon the spot some 200, a sufficient testimony to the severity of their losses in the struggle. The third battery on the Sapoune-hill was abandoned the night before, and its guns either withdrawn or tumbled down the hill.

In the early part of the day there had been a popular impulse to believe that an end of the affair would be made at night by a combined assault upon the Malakoff and the Redan. That both were within scope of capture was considered in camp as proved to demonstration. But the news of the suspension of arms dissipated the hope, and when the divisions got their orders for the night, it was no longer thought that aggression was likely, though defence might be. The enemy, with their wonted perseverance, had been making very comfortable use of their time, and when the firing recommenced, which it did instantly on the flags being lowered, a few minutes before six o'clock, it was plain that the Malakoff and Redan had both received a reinforcement of guns. Six and eleven were the numbers of remounted bouches de feu—exactness in such a calculation was not easy, for the Russians were laboriously artful in disguising the strength of their artillery, and frequently by moving guns from one embrasure to another make a single one play dummy for two or three. From six until nine o'clock the duel continued without special incidents; then there came a sudden splash of musketry, which lasted some few minutes and died away as unexpectedly. Another trifling musketry diversion took place about three in the morning, to relieve the monotony of the great artillery, which kept up its savagery throughout the night—ten guns for one of the enemy's—but slacked a little towards morning. We had a great number of casualties during the night in our new position on the left, into which the Russians kept firing grape and canister from the batteries which protect the rear of the Redan. They also occupied the dismantled houses above the ravine, and leisurely took shot at our people from the windows. Not unnaturally, it was a subject of the bitterest anger and complaint among the soldiers that they had to stand still and be riddled, losing day by day a number which was swollen in a week to the dimensions of a battle-roll of killed and wounded.

Through the occupation and arming of the White Batteries, situated on the edge of the ridge of Mount Sapoune, the head of the harbour was more or less in our power. The Russians themselves seemed to acknowledge this by taking outside the boom the vessels which had before been lying in that direction, and would have been commanded from the works which the French were then constructing on the site of the White Batteries of the Russians. But this was not all. These new works were to act against the two Strand batteries which the Russians had behind the Mamelon, and which, not being much commanded by any of our works, could do a good deal of harm without being exposed to much danger. The construction of French works on the Mamelon brought us to about 500 yards from the Malakoff works; it gave us a footing on the plateau on which these works lie; it furnished us with the means of approaching the rear of them, and at the same time of operating successfully on the annoying batteries in the rear of the Mamelon, which, taken thus in a cross fire, could not long resist. The Quarry was scarcely more than 200 yards from the Redan. The battery which it contained worked successfully on the six-gun battery in the rear between the Redan and the Malakoff Tower works; and from the advanced posts our riflemen were able to prevent a good number of the guns in the Redan from working.

But, for all this, the keeping of the Quarry was, especially in the beginning, not at all an easy thing; not so much, perhaps, from the attempts of the Russians to retake a point of such vital importance to them, but rather on account of the fire to which it was exposed from other Russian batteries besides the Redan. The Garden Battery on our flank, the six-gun battery in the rear, and the Malakoff works could touch it on nearly all sides. Moreover, the work, when it was taken being directed against us, offered very little protection against the riflemen of the Redan, until its face could be converted.

The French in the Mamelon had to maintain themselves under a not less heavy fire than the English in the Quarries. Some parts of the Malakoff works, the shipping, the Strand batteries behind, and even some of the Inkerman batteries, could bear upon them, and they suffered considerable loss in the first days after their instalment there. Night attacks were commenced by the fleets; on the 16th the Tribune, Highflier, Terrible, Miranda, Niger, Arrow, Viper, Snake, and Weser, stood in at night, and opened a heavy fire upon the town, in company with some French steamers, whilst the Danube and the launches of the Royal Albert fired rockets into the place. On the 17th, the Sidon, Highflier, Miranda, Viper, Snake, and Princess Royal ran in again, but the enemy had got their range, and hulled some of the ships repeatedly; and we had to mourn the loss of Captain Lyons of the Miranda, who was wounded by a piece of shell, of which he died soon afterwards, at the Hospital of Therapia.

On the 16th of June it was decided at a council of war that, after three hours' cannonade from the whole of the allied batteries, the assault should take place on the morning of the 18th of June. Our armament consisted of thirty 13-inch mortars, twenty-four 10-inch mortars, seven 8-inch mortars, forty-nine 32-pounders, forty-six 8-inch guns, eight 10-inch guns, eight 68-pounders: total, one hundred and sixty-six guns. The French had about two hundred and eighty bouches-À-feu. The despatch of Lord Raglan, dated 19th June, states that it was decided that the fire should be kept up for two hours after dawn; but, on the evening of the 17th, Marshal Pelissier sent over a despatch to our head-quarters, to the effect that, as the French infantry could not be placed in the trenches in the morning without the enemy seeing them, he had decided on attacking the place at daybreak, without any preliminary cannonade in the morning. Lord Raglan accepted this change of the plan of attack, although it was opposed to his private judgment, and sent orders to the divisional generals to carry it out. Sir George Brown, who was understood to be of opinion that an assault against the Redan was very doubtful, was ordered to make the arrangements.

The assaulting force, which consisted of detachments of the Light, Second, and Third Divisions, was divided into three columns. Sir John Campbell had charge of the left, Colonel Shadforth, of the 57th Regiment, of the right, and Colonel Lacy Yea, of the 7th Fusileers, of the centre column. Brigadier (afterwards Sir Henry) Barnard was directed to take his brigade of the Third Division down the Woronzoff Ravine, whilst Major-General Eyre moved down his brigade of the same Division still further to the left, with orders to threaten the works on the proper right of the Redan and in front of the Dockyard Creek, and, in case of the assault being successful, to convert the demonstration of his brigade into a serious attack on the place. The right column was destined to attack the left face of the Redan between the flanks of the batteries; the centre column was to assault the salient of the Redan; and the left column was to assault the re-entering angle formed by the right face and flank of the work; the centre column was not to advance till the other columns had well developed their attack. On the French left, assaults under General de Salles were to be directed against the Quarantine Bastion, the Central Bastion, and the Bastion du MÂt, each by a division 6,000 strong. On the French right, General d'Autemarre, with a column of 6,000 men, was to assault the Gervais Battery and the right flank of the Malakoff; General Brunet, with a similar force, from the Mamelon, was to attack the left flank of the Malakoff and the little Redan; General Mayran, from the extreme of the French right, was to fall upon the Russian batteries near Careening Creek, and the works connecting No. 1 Bastion with the Little Redan. In order to give greater completeness to the arrangements, it was decided that the French should make a demonstration against the Mackenzie Heights; and General Bosquet, who commanded the Second Corps d'ArmÉe, because it was known that he was unfavourable to an assault, and preferred operations in the field, was displaced from his command by General Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely. It will thus be seen that the French were to assault in six columns, constituting a force of not less than 36,000 men, with reserves of 25,000. Our assaulting columns were only 1,200 men, although there was a force in reserve of nearly 10,000 men.

The fire which opened on Sunday morning (the 17th) was marked by great energy and destructiveness. In the first relief the Quarry Battery, commanded by Major Strange, threw no less than 300 8-inch shells into the Redan, which was only 400 yards distant. Throughout Sunday 12,000 rounds, and on the following day 11,946 rounds of shot and shell were fired against Sebastopol from the British lines.

Early on Monday morning (18th of June), the troops, who had been under arms soon after midnight, moved down to the trenches. Lord Raglan and his staff were stationed in the trench in rear of the Quarries Battery. Marshal Pelissier took up his post in a battery to the rear of the Mamelon and on our right front, a considerable way from Lord Raglan. Just as some faint tinge of light in the east announced the approach of dawn, we heard a very irregular but sharp fire of musketry on our right, close to the Malakoff. In an instant all the Russian works on the right woke up into life, and the roar of artillery, mingled with musketry, became incessant. The column under General Mayran had made a premature attack! A rocket fired unintentionally misled the French general, who fell mortally wounded. In a few minutes the column was driven back with great loss. The musketry ceased. Then three rockets flew up into the gloomy sky. This was the signal for the assault, which Mayran had anticipated with such unfortunate results. General d'Autemarre's column, at the double, made a dash up the ravine which separated the Redan from the Malakoff. General Brunet led his men to attack the left of the work. The Russians received them with a tremendous fire, for the grey dawn just gave light sufficient to indicate the advance of these large masses. General Brunet fell dead, and his column was obliged to retreat, with great loss. The other column on the right of the Malakoff was somewhat more fortunate. They dashed across the ditch and over the parapet of the Gervais Battery, and drove the enemy before them. Some few get into the Malakoff itself; certainly, unless my eyes deceived me, I saw a tricolor flag waving in the centre of the work, and a few French actually reached the dockyard wall. Although it was understood that the English were not to attack until the French had carried the Malakoff, Lord Raglan resolved to assist the French at this stage of the assault, and the two rockets which was the signal for the advance were sent up. At the moment, the French were fighting outside the Malakoff, but were in possession of the Gervais battery on the right flank. Brunet's column had been driven back. A second attack on the extreme right by Mayran's column, though aided by 4,000 of the Imperial Guard under General Mellinet, had completely failed. The Russians, warned by the assault on their left, were prepared; in the Redan, they held a great force in reserve. Their guns, loaded with grape, were manned, and the parapets were thickly lined with infantry.

The party to assault the left face of the Redan consisted of 11 officers and 400 men of the 34th Regiment, under Major Gwilt, preceded by a covering party of the Rifle Brigade and a ladder party from the Sailors' Brigade. When the signal was given, the men carrying the ladders and wool-bags rushed out of the trench; they were swept down at once by the tremendous fire. Major Gwilt ordered the 34th to lie down; but on the extreme right the men who did not receive the order advanced in sections at the double, and the whole of the storming party made a run at the re-entering angle of the left face of the Redan. On crossing the trench, our men, instead of coming upon the open in a firm body, were broken into twos and threes. This arose from the want of a temporary step above the berm, which would have enabled the troops to cross the parapet with regularity; instead of which they had to scramble over it as well as they could; and, as the top of the trench was of unequal height and form, their line was quite broken. The moment they came out from the trench the enemy began to direct on their whole front a deliberate and well-aimed mitraille, which increased the want of order and unsteadiness caused by the mode of their advance. Yea saw the consequences. Having in vain tried to obviate the evil caused by the broken formation and confusion of his men, who were falling fast around him, he exclaimed, "This will never do! Where's the bugler to call them back?" But, at that critical moment, no bugler was to be found. The gallant officer, by voice and gesture, tried to form and compose his men, but the thunder of the enemy's guns close at hand and the gloom frustrated his efforts; and as he rushed along the troubled mass of troops, endeavouring to get them into order for a rush at the batteries, a charge of their deadly missiles passed, and the noble soldier fell dead in advance of his men, struck at once in head and stomach by grape shot. A fine young officer, Hobson, the adjutant of the 7th, fell along with his chief, mortally wounded. They were thrown into confusion on getting up to the abattis, by finding a formidable barrier before them. When the 34th came up, there was only one ladder at the abattis.[20] Major Gwilt, who was about sixty yards from the abattis, was soon severely wounded and obliged to retire. Colonel Lysons, who now took the command, ordered the men to retire. But ere the 34th regained the trenches, Captain Shiffner, Captain Robinson, and Lieutenant Hurt, were killed; Captain Jordan, Major Gwilt, Lieutenant Harman, Lieutenant Clayton, and Lieutenant Alt, were severely wounded, the last two dying of their injuries.

The column on the left told off for the attack of the re-entering angle and flank of the right of the Redan, was exposed to the same fire. There were no scaling ladders at the abattis, much less at the ditch of the Redan, nor could the Rifles keep down the enemy's artillery. Colonel Shadforth was killed whilst leading on his men most gallantly. Sir John Campbell fell dead close to the abattis. In a few moments the assaulting columns had disappeared.

On our extreme left, the brigade under Major-General Eyre, consisting of the 18th on the left of the line, of the 9th Regiment and 28th Regiment in reserve, the 38th Regiment and 44th Regiment on the right, advanced to threaten the Dockyard Creek and the Barrack Batteries. Four volunteers from each company, under Major Fielden, of the 44th Regiment, covered the advance. The brigade was turned out before dawn, and marched down the road on the left of the Greenhill Battery to the Cemetery, while the necessary dispositions were being made for the attack. General Eyre, addressing the 18th, said, "I hope, my men, that this morning you will do something that will make every cabin in Ireland ring again!" The reply was a loud cheer, which instantly drew a shower of grape. Just as the general attack began, they rushed at the Cemetery, which was very feebly defended; but the moment the enemy retreated their batteries opened a heavy fire upon it from the left of the Redan and from the Barrack Battery. They also kept up a heavy fire of musketry from a suburb close to the Dockyard Creek, by the side of the Woronzoff Road, and from a number of houses at the other side of the Creek, below the Barrack Battery. The 18th charged and carried the houses. The Russians could not depress their guns sufficiently to fire down upon our men; they directed a severe flanking fire upon them from an angle of the Redan. The 44th made a dash at the houses under the Barrack Battery, and the 38th seized hold of the suburb over the Creek Battery, so that the Russians were obliged to abandon it.

While portions of the 9th, 18th, 28th and 44th were in the houses, the 38th kept up a hot fire from the Cemetery on the Russians in the battery. One part of the brigade was exposed to a destructive fire in houses, the upper portion of which crumbled into pieces or fell in, and it was only by keeping in the lower stories, which were vaulted, that they were enabled to hold their own. The rest of the brigade, far advanced from our batteries, were almost unprotected, and were under a constant mitraille and bombardment from guns which our batteries failed to touch.

A sergeant and a handful of men actually got possession of a small work, in which there were twelve or fourteen artillerymen; but the Russians, seeing that they were alone, came down upon them and drove them out. An officer and half-a-dozen men got up close to the Flagstaff Battery, and were advancing into it when they saw that they were by themselves, and retreated. About fifteen French soldiers on their left aided them, but they were unsupported and they all had to retire. Another officer with twelve men took one of the Russian rifle-pits, and held possession of it throughout the day.

This partial success, however, did not change the fortunes of the day. The French were driven out of the Gervais' Battery because they received no reinforcements, though not till they had held it for upwards of forty minutes. Marshal Pelissier made proposals to Lord Raglan to renew the assault. Lord Raglan, though agreeing with the French General in the practicability of a renewed assault, was of opinion that it ought not to be attempted till a heavy bombardment had been continued for some hours. As there was a considerable distance between them, Lord Raglan had to ride over to Marshal Pelissier, to confer with him on the arrangements for the proposed assault. During the interval, the French, who were suffering heavily from the enemy's fire, became dispirited by their losses and by the inaction which followed the check they had sustained. The Russians were evidently in great force at the Malakoff; and General d'Autemarre was so convinced that the assault would not succeed, that he sent a pressing message to Marshal Pelissier to beg that he would not expose the men in a fruitless assault. Marshal Pelissier was obliged to yield to such an expression of opinion, and, Lord Raglan coinciding with him, the renewal of the assault did not take place. Although the attack upon the Redan had been discussed at a council of war, and the Engineer officers of both our attacks (Colonel Chapman and Colonel Gordon) had been called upon to assist the Generals with their advice, the result proved that the arrangements were defective and inadequate. Our officers were outwitted by the subtlety of the Russians, who had for some time masked their guns, or withdrawn them from the embrasures, as if they were overpowered and silenced by our fire. No more decisive proof of the inefficiency of our force could be afforded than this fact—that in no case did the troops destined to assault and carry the Redan reach the outer part of the work; that no ladders were placed in the ditch; and that a very small portion indeed of the storming party reached the abattis, which was placed many yards in front of the ditch of the Redan. It cannot be said that on this occasion our men exhibited any want of courage; but so abortive and so weak was the attack, that the Russians actually got outside the parapet of the Redan, jeered and laughed at our soldiers as they fired upon them at the abattis, and mockingly invited the "Inglisky" to come nearer. A few dilettanti have since started a theory, which has not even ingenuity to recommend it, and which, if well founded, would convey the weightiest accusation ever yet made against our commanders—and that is, that our assault against the Redan was never meant to be successful, and that it was, in fact, a mere diversion, to assist the French in getting into the Malakoff. To any one acquainted with the facts, or to those who were present, this theory must appear, not only not ingenious, but ludicrous and contemptible. Indeed, the truth is, that an assault was not merely intended to be successful, but that it was looked upon as certain to succeed. No one hinted a doubt of the carrying of the Redan, though there was a general expression of opinion, among those who knew the case, that the force detailed for the storm was perilously small, and some few, as I heard, also found fault with the position of the reserves, and thought they were placed too far in the rear to be of service in case of a check.

Our losses were severe, and they were not alleviated by the consolations of victory. No less than 22 officers and 247 men were killed, 78 officers and 1,207 men were wounded. The French lost 39 officers killed and 93 wounded; 1,600 rank and file killed or taken prisoners, and about the same number wounded—so that the loss of the Allies, on the 18th of June, amounted to nearly 5,000 officers and men. The Russians admitted a loss of 5,800; but it is remarkable in their return that the proportion of their officers killed is very much less than ours. In our army one officer was killed to every eleven men—one was wounded to every fifteen. In the French army one officer was killed to thirty men, and one was wounded to every sixteen men. In the Russian army the proportion of killed was about one officer to forty-nine men—of wounded, one officer to thirty-one men. General Jones was wounded over the trench. General Eyre was disabled by a severe cut on the head, but kept with his men till they were established in the Cemetery.

The detachments from the Naval Brigade consisted of four parties of sixty men each, one for each column, but only two of them went out, the other two being kept in reserve; they were told off to carry scaling-ladders and wool-bags, and to place them for our storming parties. Captain Peel, who commanded, was wounded. His aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Wood, midshipman of H.M.S. Queen, though badly wounded, got up to the abattis, and rendered himself so conspicuous for a gallantry of which he had given several proofs on previous occasions, that Lord Hardinge presented him with a commission of the 13th Light Dragoons on his expressing a desire to exchange into the army. In No. 1 party, Lieutenants Urmston, Dalyell, and Parsons, were wounded. In No. 3, Lieutenant Cave was wounded, and Lieutenant Kidd killed. No. 2 and No. 4 party did not advance, and lost no officer. When the men retreated, overwhelmed by the storm from the enemy's battery, several officers and men were left behind wounded. Lieutenant Kidd got into the trench all safe, and was receiving the congratulations of a brother officer, when he saw a wounded soldier lying out in the open. He at once exclaimed—"We must go and save him!" and leaped over the parapet in order to do so. He had scarcely gone a yard when he was shot through the breast, and died an hour after. A private soldier of the 33rd, a native of Cork, named Richard Worrell, displayed the most touching devotion on the same occasion. When the regiment returned to the trenches it was discovered that a young officer named Heyland was missing. The enemy's guns were sweeping the front of the trenches. Worrell did not hesitate for a moment. "I'll go out," said he, "and bring him in if he's wounded, or die beside him." He kept his word. His body was found pierced with balls, close to that of his officer.

All the advantage we gained was the capture of the Cemetery, and the small Mamelon near it. The French sent over an engineer to examine the ground, and as that officer expressed an opinion that it was desirable to hold the place with a view to ulterior defensive works being erected upon it, General Eyre was assured that a strong body of men would be marched into it at night. As these troops never arrived, Colonel Adams retired from the Cemetery at night, leaving only a picket, which was also withdrawn in compliance with the instructions General Eyre received from head-quarters, which were to the effect that if the French did not occupy the work our troops were to withdraw. On the following morning, Lieutenant Donnelly of the Engineers heard that the position for which we had paid so dearly was not in our possession. He appreciated its value—he saw that the Russians had not yet advanced to reoccupy it, begged and borrowed some thirty men, with whom he crept into the Cemetery. As soon as the armistice began, the Russians flocked down to the Cemetery, which they supposed to be undefended, but to their great surprise they found our men posted there, and in the evening the party was strengthened, and the Allies constructed most valuable works and batteries there.

The natural consequence, in civilized warfare, of such a contest as that recorded above, is an armistice to bury the dead. It was our sad duty to demand it next day, for our dead lay outside our lines, and there were no Russian corpses in front of the Redan or Malakoff. We hoisted a white flag in the forenoon, but there was no such emblem of a temporary peace displayed by the Russians. Officers and soldiers eager to find the bodies of their comrades, waited patiently and sadly for the moment when friendship's last melancholy office could be performed. At last it became known that the armistice was to take place at four o'clock in the afternoon.

It was agonizing to see the wounded men lying under a broiling sun, parched with excruciating thirst, racked with fever, and agonized with pain—to behold them waving their caps faintly, or making signals towards our lines, over which they could see the white flag waving. They lay where they fell, or had scrambled into the holes formed by shells; and there they had been for thirty hours! how long and how dreadful in their weariness! A soldier who was close to the abattis saw a few men come out of an embrasure, and fearing he should be unnoticed, raised his cap on a stick and waved it till he fell back exhausted. Again he rose, and managed to tear off his shirt, which he agitated in the air till his strength failed him. His face could be seen through a glass; and my friend, who watched him, said he could never forget the expression of despair with which the poor fellow folded his shirt under his head to await the mercy of Heaven.

The red-coats lay thick over the broken ground in front of the abattis of the Redan. Blue and grey coats lay in piles in the raincourses before the Malakoff. I rode down with some companions past the old 13-inch mortar battery in advance of our Picket-house into the Middle Picket Ravine, at the end of which began the French approaches to their old parallel, which was extended up to their recent conquest, the Mamelon. A body of light cavalry moved down the Woronzoff road a little later, and began extending their files right and left in a complete line across the whole of our front, with the object of preventing any, except those who were on duty, getting down to the neutral ground. However, my companions and myself got down into the ravine before the cavalry halted just behind the Picket-house. This ravine was paved with shot and shell. The earth gleamed here and there with bullets and fragments of lead. In one place there was a French picket posted in a bend of the ravine, sleeping under their greatcoats, raised on twigs, to protect them from the sun, smoking or talking gravely. Yes, for a wonder, the men were grave and looked almost sullen; but they were thinking of the comrades whose bodies they would have to inter. By the side of this ravine—your horse must needs tread upon them, if you were not careful in guiding him—was many a mound, some marking the resting-place of individual soldiers, others piled over one of those deep pits where rank and file reposed in their common glory.

In the ravine were mules with litters, ambulances, and Land Transport Corps. English and French were mixed together. I saw in one place two of our men, apart from the rest, with melancholy faces. "What are you waiting here for?" said I.

"To go out for the Colonel, sir," was the reply.

"What Colonel?"

"Why, Colonel Yea, to be sure, sir," said the good fellow, who was evidently surprised at my thinking there could be any other colonel in the world. And indeed the Light Division felt his loss. Under brusqueness of manner he concealed a kind heart. A more thorough soldier, one more devoted to his men, to the service, and to his country, never fell in battle than Lacy Yea. Throughout the winter his attention to his regiment was exemplary. His men were the first who had hospital huts. When other regiments were in need of every comfort, and almost of every necessary, the Fusileers, by the care of their colonel, had everything that could be procured by exertion and foresight. Writing of him, and of similar cases, I said, "At Inkerman his gallantry was conspicuous. He and Colonel Egerton are now gone, and there remains in the Light Division but one other officer of the same rank who stands in the same case as they did. Is there nothing to be done? No recognition of their services? No decorations? No order of merit?"[21] Two French soldiers approached, with an English naval officer, whom they were taking off as a spy. He told us he was an officer of the Viper, that he walked up to see some friends in the Naval Brigade, got into the Mamelon, and was taken prisoner. The Frenchmen pointed out that the Naval Brigade was not employed on the Mamelon, that spies were abundant and clever; but they were at last satisfied, and let their captive go with the best grace in the world. We were close to the Mamelon, and the frequent reports of rifles and the pinging of the balls proved that the flag of truce had not been hoisted by the enemy. We were in the zigzag, a ditch about six feet broad and six feet deep, with the earth knocked about by shot at the sides, and we met Frenchmen laden with water canteens or carrying large tin cans full of coffee, and tins of meat and soup, cooked in the ravine close at hand, up to the Mamelon.

I entered along with them. The parapets were high inside the work, and were of a prodigious thickness. It was evident the Mamelon was overdone. It was filled with traverses and excavations, so that it was impossible to put a large body of men into it, or to get them in order in case of an assault. The stench from the dead, who had been buried as they fell, was fearful; and bones, and arms, and legs stuck out from the piles of rubbish on which you were treading. Many guns were also buried, but they did not decompose. Outside were plenty of those fougasses, which the Russians planted thickly. A strong case containing powder was sunk in the ground, and to it was attached a thin tube of tin or lead, several feet in length; in the upper end of the tube was enclosed a thin glass tube containing sulphuric or nitric acid. This portion of the tube was just laid above the earth, where it could be readily hid by a few blades of grass or a stone. If a person stepped upon it he bent the tin tube and broke the glass tube inside. The acid immediately escaped down the tin tube till it met a few grains of chlorate of potash. The mine exploded, and not only destroyed everything near it, but threw out a quantity of bitumen, with which it was coated, in a state of ignition. I very nearly had a practical experience of the working of these mines, for an English sentry, who kindly warned me off, did not indicate the exact direction till he found he was in danger of my firing it, when he became very communicative upon the subject. They made it disagreeable walking in the space between the works.

I turned into the second English parallel on my left, where it joined the left of the French right. What a network of zigzags, and parallels, and traverses! You could see how easy it was for men to be confused at night—how easy to mistake.

I walked out of the trench of the Quarries under the Redan, in which we had then established a heavy battery, at the distance of 400 yards from the enemy's embrasures. The ground sloped down for some few hundred yards, and then rose again to the Redan. It was covered with long rank grass and weeds, large stones, tumuli, and holes ranging in depth from three feet and a half or four feet, to a foot, and in diameter from five feet to seven or eight feet, where shells had exploded. It is impossible to give a notion of the manner in which the earth was scarred by explosions, and shot. The grass was seamed in all directions, as if ploughs, large and small, had been constantly drawn over it.

The litter-bearers were busy. Most of our dead were close to the abaths of the Redan, and many, no doubt, had been dragged up to it at night for plunder's sake. Colonel Yea's body was found near the abattis on the right of the Redan. His head was greatly swollen, and his features, and a fine manly face it had been, were nearly undistinguishable. Colonel Shadforth's remains were discovered in a similar state. Sir John Campbell lay close up to the abattis. It was but the very evening before his death that I saw him standing within a few feet of his own grave. He had come to the ground in order to attend the funeral of Captain Vaughan, an officer of his own regiment (the 38th), who died of wounds received two days previously in the trenches, and he laughingly invited me to come and lunch with him next day at the Clubhouse of Sebastopol. His sword and boots were taken, but the former was subsequently restored by a Russian officer. The body was interred on Cathcart's Hill—his favourite resort, where every one was sure of a kind word and a cheerful saying from the gallant Brigadier.

The bodies of many a brave officer whom I had known in old times—old times of the war, for men's lives were short in the Crimea, and the events of a life were compressed into a few hours—were borne past us in silence, and now and then men with severe wounds were found still living. The spirit of some of these noble fellows triumphed over all their bodily agonies. "General!" exclaimed a sergeant of the 18th Royal Irish to Brigadier Eyre, as he came near the place in the Cemetery where the poor fellow lay with both his legs broken by a round shot, "thank God, we did our work, any way. Had I another pair of legs, the country and you would be welcome to them!" Many men in hospital, after losing leg or arm, said they "would not have cared if they had only beaten the Russians." The wounded lay in holes made by shells, and were fired at by the Russian riflemen when they rolled about. Our men report that the enemy treated them kindly, and even brought them water out of the embrasures. They pulled all the bodies of officers within reach up to the abattis, and took off their epaulettes and boots, but did not strip them.

A line of sentries was formed by the Russians so far in front of the abattis, that General Airey was obliged to remonstrate with an aide-de-camp of General Osten-Sacken, who ordered them to retire. These men were remarkably fine, tall, muscular fellows, and one could not but contrast them with the poor weakly-looking boys in our regiments, or with the undergrown men of the French line. They were in clean new uniforms. Many of them wore medals. Their officers turned out with white kid gloves and patent leather boots.

One stout elderly Russian of rank asked one of our officers, "How are you off for food?"

"Oh! we get everything we want; our fleet secures that."

"Yes," remarked the Russian, with a knowing wink, "yes; but there's one thing you're not so well off for, and that your fleet can't supply you with, and that's sleep."

"We're at least as well off for that as you are," was the rejoinder. Another officer asked if we really thought, after our experience of the defence they could make, that we could take Sebastopol.

"We must; France and England are determined to take it."

"Ah! well," said the other, "Russia is determined France and England shall not have it; and we'll see who has the strongest will, and can lose most men."

In the midst of these brief interviews, beginning and ending with bows and salutes, and inaugurated by the concession of favours relating to cigars and lights, the soldiers bore dead bodies by, consigning the privates to the burial-grounds near the trenches, and carrying off the wounded and the bodies of the officers to the camp.

The armistice lasted for upwards of two hours.

CHAPTER II.

IMMEDIATELY after the failure of the assault, Sir George Brown, Generals Pennefather, Codrington, Buller, and Estcourt, were obliged to take to their beds, to seek change of air, or to sail for England. Lord Raglan was affected. It was observed by his staff that the failure had "affected his health;" and an officer, writing home to his friends, on the 23rd of June, remarked, "he (Lord Raglan) looks far from well, and has grown very much aged latterly."

General Estcourt, Adjutant-General of the Army, died on the morning of the 24th of June, after three days' illness.

On the 28th Lord Raglan published the following order:—

Within a very few hours after the appearance of this order, the electric telegraph brought the startling intelligence to the head-quarters of the various divisions that the Field-Marshal was dead.

On Tuesday evening, after his usual devotion to the desk, he was seized with symptoms of a choleraic character, and took to his bed, where he died on the night of the following Thursday. Lord Raglan possessed qualities which, if not those of a great general, were calculated to obtain for the English army more consideration than that to which it was entitled by its numerical strength. Although he was frequently obliged to give way to their councils, in opposition to his declared convictions, his calmness in the field—his dignity of manner—his imperturbable equanimity—exercised their legitimate influence over the generals of the French army.

That Lord Raglan was an accomplished gentleman, as brave a soldier as ever drew a sword, an amiable, honourable man, zealous for the public service, of the most unswerving truth, devoted to his duty and to his profession, cannot be denied; but he appears to me to have been a man of strong prejudices and of weak resolution, cold to those whom, like Omar Pasha, he considered "vulgar," coerced without difficulty by the influence of a stronger will, and apt to depend upon those around him where he should have used his own eyes. There was something of the old heroic type in his character, which would have compensated for even graver defects, if their results had not been, in many instances, so unfortunate for our arms; his death on a foreign soil whilst in command of an English army touched the hearts of his countrymen.

The following General Orders were issued next day:—

General Simpson was destitute of those acquirements and personal characteristics which in Lord Raglan compensated for a certain apathy and marble calmness. He was a veteran who had seen a year's service in the Peninsula in 1812-13, and in the campaign of 1815, and who thirty years afterwards held the post of Quartermaster-General to Sir C. Napier, in his Indian war of 1845. Lord Raglan had, at all events, by the dignity of his personal character, secured a position for the troops he commanded to which they were not numerically entitled; but no one can say by what sacrifices that position was maintained till the battle of Inkerman forced us to abandon it. It was believed at the time, and it is now notorious, that General Simpson opposed his own appointment, and bore testimony to his own incapacity; but the Government—or Lord Hardinge and Lord Panmure—insisted, and General Simpson became Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. Writing at the time respecting our future General I said:—

On the 21st of July, General Simpson published the following order:—

The personal Staff of his Excellency consisted of Captain Colville, Rifle Brigade; Captain Lindsay, Scots Fusileer Guards; Major Dowbiggen, 4th Foot (appointed by electric telegraph). Lieut.-Colonel Stephenson was appointed Military Secretary, although Colonel Steele remained at head-quarters; and Colonel Pakenham was confirmed as Adjutant-General, at the request of Lord Raglan, in the last despatch he ever penned.

On the 21st, Captain Lushington, who had been promoted to the rank of Admiral, was relieved in the command of the Naval Brigade by Captain the Hon. H. Keppel. Commissary-General Filder, at the same date, returned home on the recommendation of a Medical Board.