Chapter XIX: The First Brush with the Enemy

The morning broke bright and beautiful. At six o’clock the vast array of ships was under way again and approaching closer to the coast, towards which every eye was eagerly turned.

Cornet Leland was gazing through his glass at the plains and marshes when he suddenly exclaimed, ‘By Jove! those are Cossacks, or I’m a Dutchman.’

‘Where, sir--where?’ asked Jack, who stood beside him.

The cornet handed Jack his glasses.

‘I see them--a patrol; little chaps armed with long lances and mounted on shaggy ponies. Hurrah!’

The news that Cossacks were in sight ran through the vessel, and a hearty cheer broke out.

Later in the day anchor was dropped in Kalamita Bay, christened afterwards by the men ‘Calamity Bay.’ The place of landing was a long stretch of shingly beach, a lake about a mile long lying some two hundred yards inland. The English called the place ‘Old Fort.’

Next morning at daybreak disembarkation commenced. The infantry of the Light Division had the honour of landing first; and, as it was quite possible their landing might be opposed, they were prepared. Each man had his blanket and greatcoat strapped to his back, a spare pair of boots and socks, three days’ rations, and fifty rounds of ammunition.

As the soldiers came creeping down the ladders to the boats, the jolly tars in the most solicitous fashion looked after and assisted them, taking their rifles, helping them to remove their knapsacks, which were stowed away under the seats, and patting them on the back and telling them not to be ‘afeerd of the waves!’ At last, on a signal from the flagship, the boats dashed for the shore. In an instant the sea was alive with launches, gigs, and cutters all racing as if for life. Thundering cheers burst from those still left on board, who watched the scene with keen interest.

The French had started at the same instant as the English, and it seemed to be a race between them. The French boats were, however, lighter and carried fewer men, and it was seen that one shot ahead of the rest. She had only about a dozen men aboard, and, manned by a powerful crew, she flew through the water and reached the shore first.

A great cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ burst from the French, and Sergeant Barrymore ground his teeth in rage.

‘Confound those froggies!’ he cried savagely; ‘they want to be first in everything where they can make a bit of show; we shall see whether they’re as anxious to be first at the cannon’s mouth.’

Long before the French had hoisted their tricolour an English boatload of Fusiliers had landed, and the officer sprang ashore, waving his sword. The rest of his regiment followed and were at once formed up, when they advanced in skirmishing order.

Seeing this, Jack said, ‘We’re the first to commence business anyway.’

From then the men poured on the beach, which literally swarmed with red-coats, and presently the turn of the cavalry and artillery came to land. The sailors were here of the utmost service with the guns and the restive horses, and many accidents must have occurred had it not been for their herculean efforts and extraordinary care.

Jack’s troop was the first to get to land, and the men were immediately formed up and sent on as a support to Sir George Brown, who had pushed forward with a few Fusiliers and Riflemen to take possession of a ridge ahead and to reconnoitre the country. Sir George, being mounted, got ahead of the infantry, and with the exception of a sergeant and two men, who had kept up with him, was quite alone.

Cornet Leland hurried up his Lancers, and was about a hundred yards from the General when suddenly a Russian officer and a patrol of Cossacks were seen on the ridge ahead. They were only visible for a moment; then they disappeared again behind the ridge.

Cornet Leland had, however, seen them, and cried out, ‘The General will be killed or captured! First two sections unsling lances and follow me!’

The horses, cramped with the voyage, could not move very fast, and ere they could reach the General, who was very short-sighted, the Cossacks were seen swooping down on his flank to cut off his retreat.

‘17th, follow me! Charge!’ cried Leland; and, wheeling his horse, he made straight for the Cossacks.

The sight of the English Lancers took the Russians by surprise, and, as though by common consent, they reined in their shaggy ponies. The waving pennons and flashing lance-points were too much for them, and they suddenly wheeled and galloped madly away towards Sebastopol, receiving a few shots from the French skirmishers on their right as they passed them.

Sir George Brown looked at the Lancer officer as he saluted with his sword.

‘Bless my soul!’ he said in perfectly unconcerned tones; ‘lucky you were here; my bad eyesight will get me into trouble some day. I really must wear glasses!’

The rest of Jack’s troop came up, and then Sir George led them some distance inland, Cornet Leland keeping his eyes well about him. On rounding a sort of promontory they came in sight of a road leading inland, and there, before their very eyes, was a long line of wagons, driven by native drivers and escorted by a number of Cossacks.

‘A convoy, Sir George--a convoy!’ cried Leland excitedly.

‘Wagons,’ murmured the General; ‘the very thing we want.’

‘Give me permission to charge with my troop and the wagons are yours, General,’ said Leland.

The General looked wistfully at the wagons; then said, ‘You haven’t got forty men with you.’

‘We’re a match for double that number,’ replied Leland; ‘let us go in, Sir George.’

‘It’s the true spirit of the old Peninsula days,’ said Sir George; ‘go in, my boy, and win. Attack them from each side.’

Cornet Leland turned to his troop, his face beaming with pleasure.

‘Form ranks from the right!’ he cried. ‘Sergeant Barrymore, take the right column; the left follow me! Trot march!’

In a very few seconds the two lines of Lancers were bearing down on the astonished Russians, who never dreamed that such a handful of men would have the impudence to attack them. Before they had recovered from their surprise the Lancers were close to them.

Then those Cossacks who marched in rear of the wagons faced about, formed in double column, and prepared to receive their enemy. They fired a sputtering volley; but the bullets flew wide, and only one man and two horses were hit.

‘Gallop!’ shouted Cornet Leland, waving his sword; and Jack, who was just behind him, wheeled his horse to the right so as to come abreast of his officer.

Williams, who was riding behind Sergeant Barrymore, did the same, and so the front rank of four, two armed with swords, for Jack had drawn his, and two with lances, thundered down upon the Cossacks. Having fired their volley, these remained halted in a sort of confusion as though not knowing what to do. Many of them did not even take their lances from the rests, but sat staring at the advancing English. They had little time to consider the situation further; the Lancers came crashing in amongst them, unhorsing several and scattering the others. For a few moments there was a mêlée of stabbing lances, whirling swords and plunging horses.

Cornet Leland had ridden straight at a red-faced, snub-nosed officer, the red cord on whose coarse green uniform was edged with gold lace; but the fellow reined aside from the officer and faced the trumpeter. He made a point at Jack with his crooked sabre, but Jack parried the blade with ease. In return he delivered cut two with all his might; but to his astonishment his blade, falling on the shoulder of the Russian, was turned aside by the coarse red cloth. The snub-nosed Cossack, with a sort of hissing grunt, then drew a pistol from his holster, and, levelling it at Jack’s head, fired, missing him only by a hand’s-breadth. Next moment a Lancer behind Jack drove his lance through the Russian’s arm, and the fight was ended.

The two lines of Lancers galloped on along the sides of the wagons, slashing and thrusting at the Cossacks. These seemed paralysed by the very audacity of the attack, and galloped off, pursued by the victorious Lancers till Cornet Leland ordered Jack to sound the recall. Then the men, puffed with their exertions, came trotting back.

The wretched _araba_[1] drivers were on their knees begging for mercy, expecting every moment to be pierced by the long lances. When they found that they were kindly treated they grovelled on the ground, which spoke volumes for the fashion in which the Russians had treated them.

The total capture was forty-two wagons loaded with provisions; some drawn by two horses, some by three or four. Sir George was delighted with the capture, and the handful of Lancers returned in great spirits, being greeted with cheers from the troops who had already assembled on the beach.

No other cavalry had been landed; and, as Jack’s troop off-saddled, Barrymore said, ‘What did you think of your first skirmish, Jack?’

‘I thought it was fine fun,’ replied Jack, ‘and I hope I shall see more such.’

‘I don’t think it would have been quite such fun for you, Jack,’ said Pearson, who had overheard the remark, ‘if I hadn’t been just behind you and skewered that snub-nosed Cossack officer with my lance. I fancy if he had got another cut in at you you would have lost the number of your mess to-night.’

‘Then my grateful thanks are due to you,’ said Jack; and they fell to eating their evening meal.

The sky had got very black and the wind moaned in fitful gusts. The men had been landed without tents or baggage of any kind, and they had to bivouac on the bare ground. The rain fell in torrents, and in their thin uniforms the men were soon drenched to the skin. Besides which, the night was wretchedly cold, with a wind that seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of their bones. Grumbling was heard on all sides, mingled, alas! with the groans of poor fellows who, thoroughly ill and weakened from their long stay at the camps of Aladyn and Devna, grew rapidly worse during the exposure of that terrible night, and who ere long had met that most inglorious of soldiers’ fates, death by disease.

Jack tried several times to sleep; but each time he awoke, wet and shivering, to find himself lying in a pool of water. At last he got up and walked about, passing the remainder of the night nestling close to Dainty, who was fully as uncomfortable as was her master.