Chapter XXXI: ‘the Thin Red Line.’

The booming of that first gun from Redoubt No. 1 was the opening note heralding in a day that will live long in the history of Britain. The first report was followed quickly by others, both from the first and other redoubts, and the vedettes came in at a smart trot.

An enormous force of Russians, horse, foot, and artillery, was advancing upon Balaclava, they said. After events showed that twenty-five battalions, thirty-four squadrons, and seventy-eight guns, nearly twenty-five thousand men in all, was the actual number.

The guns from the Turkish redoubts were quickly replied to by a tremendous fire from several Russian batteries. The picket was ordered to fall back towards the camp.

The whole of the Light Brigade had stood to their horses an hour before daybreak as usual, and had just received the command, ‘File to your lines!’ when the guns of No. 1 Redoubt opened fire. They immediately received orders to mount and advance, meeting Jack’s troop on their way. The whole were then halted with a troop of horse artillery, just to the right of No. 3 Redoubt, under the southern slopes of the Causeway Heights. Here they got a good view of what was going on.

On their right front dense masses of Russians, having silenced with their artillery the guns in No. 1 Redoubt, were advancing to the attack, while other columns were preparing to storm Canrobert’s Hill. On their right flank was Balaclava, the slight defence in front of it being held by the Royal Marines, a hill to the left of Kadikoi being crested by Sir Colin Campbell with the 93rd Highlanders. The heavy cavalry was on the right of the Light Brigade. The Fedioukine Hills on the left front, across the Woronzoff Road, were crowded with Russian infantry and cavalry, while Lord Raglan with his staff had taken up a position to the left rear on the Sapoune Ridge.

Jack had hardly time to take in all these details when a sort of guttural yell in front, accompanied by crashing volleys of musketry, announced the fact that the Russian infantry were attacking the redoubt.

Captain Maude’s troop of horse artillery opened fire on the Russians and maintained it for some time. Presently the Lancers saw on their flank a stretcher being carried by. On it, horribly wounded, lay the gallant Captain Maude. Soon the ammunition of the horse battery was exhausted, and it had to retire till the ammunition wagons should arrive.

By that time the Russians were swarming across the ditch and over the feeble parapet of No. 1 Redoubt. The Russians outnumbered the Turks by ten to one, yet the latter maintained an obstinate bayonet-fight until sheer weight of numbers crushed the Turks and they fled, or at least about a third of them did. Two-thirds they left dead--for the Russians could be depended upon to slay all the wounded--in the fort behind them.

‘By George, the Bono Johnnies are running!’ exclaimed Pearson; ‘they’ve bolted.’

‘Ha, hum! they won’t bolt far,’ said Sergeant Linham grimly; and as he spoke the Russian artillery opened on them; then a cloud of Cossacks pursued them and speared many a hapless Moslem.

Jack bit his lip. ‘It’s galling to sit here and see one’s allies butchered before one’s face,’ he said. ‘Why don’t they let us go out and cover the retreat of these poor wretches?’

‘We should be simply eaten up,’ replied Linham; ‘look at the enormous masses of cavalry advancing.’

‘Besides, why should we bother about these cowardly Turks?’ said Pearson. ‘Why don’t they stick to their guns?’

‘They’ve stuck pretty well to ’em, I think,’ replied Linham. ‘They fought till it was quite clear we either could not or would not support them, and to have stopped longer would have been sheer madness.’

An enormous body of cavalry advanced down the valley, covering the advance of seven battalions and several batteries. These latter soon opened fire on the other forts, the guns from the captured No. 1 Redoubt being directed against No. 2.

The Turks, realising that the English cavalry was unable to support them, did not wait for the attack which the Russian infantry was seen to be preparing to make upon them, and were soon scuttling out of the forts and retreating towards Balaclava. The Light Brigade was advanced to cover their retreat.

‘They don’t seem inclined to make much of a fight of it,’ said Jack to Pearson.

‘No, the fate of their comrades in No. 1 Fort seems to have given ’em the funks. They’ve actually deserted the guns, and left their colours too.’

‘They seem more anxious about their personal belongings than anything else,’ said Jack; ‘just look at the beggars, surely those are pots and pans some of them are carrying.’

‘So it is,’ laughed Brandon; ‘and look at that white-bearded old sinner, he’s actually carrying a bed on his back.’

This was the case, and the Turks began to pour from the forts towards the English cavalry, many crying loudly, ‘Ship, ship!’

‘I’ll give yez ship, ye dhirty blackguards,’ cried an Irish trooper of the 8th Hussars, belabouring with the flat of his sword a man who ran past him crying loudly, his frying-pan and pot banging and jangling behind him.

Most of the Englishmen, however, only laughed at the flying Turks.

One of the last to leave the redoubts was an English artilleryman who had been detailed to show the Turks how to use the guns. He had a narrow escape of his life from the enemy’s cavalry, and as he ran towards a few men of Jack’s troop who had been sent out to cover his retreat he panted, ‘The Bono Johnnies left me in the lurch. Anyhow, the guns of No. 4 Fort won’t be turned against you, for I spiked ’em before I left.’

Had the Turks spiked the other guns before they bolted it would have saved much unnecessary loss of life and have robbed the Russians of much of their vaunted victory when, next day, they paraded the captured guns in Sebastopol.

The flight of the Turks was ultimately arrested, and they were persuaded to form up in a wobbly line on the left of the 93rd Highlanders, who under old Sir Colin lined the heights outside Balaclava.

Round shot from the forts now began to fall in amongst the Light Brigade, and several horses were hit.

‘This is the part of fighting I don’t like,’ said Jack; ‘this sitting still and being fired at. Why on earth don’t they let us do something?’

‘Ha, hum! don’t be impatient,’ growled Sergeant Linham, who it was noted looked remarkably smart that morning; ‘you’ll have work to do presently.’

Bullets began to whistle about their ears from the dense battalions in front, and presently the order was given to retire farther down the valley. The battle now appeared to lull; it almost seemed as if the Russians, having captured the forts, did not know what to do next. The order was given for the Light Brigade to dismount, and many men lit their pipes.

‘If the Russians had any go about them,’ said Pearson, ‘with the enormous numbers they’ve got they might advance and sweep us all into the sea before any help could arrive from our fellows before Sebastopol.’

‘It’s a good thing for us they haven’t any go, then,’ said Jack. ‘Anyway, I wish I had a bit of biscuit, for I’m jolly hungry.’

‘I’m simply ravenous,’ said Linham, ‘and so are all the regiment; not one of us has had bit or drop this morning.’

Time passed, and the cavalry remained inactive, while enormous masses of Russians crept rather than marched up the valley. Batteries could be seen taking up their position on the Fedioukine Heights, while between three and four thousand cavalry, Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons, came steadily forward. Then several batteries were seen to be advancing so as to open fire on Sir Colin Campbell and his Highlanders.

‘Good heavens!’ muttered Captain Wintle, who was just by Jack, ‘if they succeed in defeating the Scotsmen--and how can they help it with such numbers--nothing can save Balaclava, and our base and all our stores are gone.’

He trotted up to Lord Paget, who in the absence of Lord Cardigan, still aboard his yacht, was in command. He and Captain Wintle spoke for a few seconds; then Captain Wintle trotted back, crying out to Jack, ‘Follow me, corporal.’

In an instant Jack was in the saddle and trotting after his officer. Increasing their pace to a gallop, they went by the inner line of defence held by the Marines, and were going on towards the town when they met about forty Guardsmen under a young officer marching out.

‘Hallo, Verschoyle,’ cried Captain Wintle, ‘I was just coming in to beat up every man who can fire a musket. The Russians evidently mean to attack the town, and there are only Turks and the Highlanders to hold it till reinforcements come down from the plain.’

‘We’ve seen that, Wintle, and I and my men are off to join the 93rd. Colonel Davenant is just behind with a hundred invalids. Come with us and see the fun!’

Captain Wintle rode beside the gallant young Guardsman, and they soon reached Sir Colin, who with a grim smile told Verschoyle to take position on the left of the 93rd. The hundred invalids, men of all regiments, a pale and sickly crowd, who were waiting at Balaclava to embark, soon after arriving took up their position on the left of the Guards.

Jack had kept close to Captain Wintle, and reaching the top of the ridge he saw the great mass of Russian cavalry still advancing. Presently some squadrons detached themselves and shaped their way towards the Highlanders. These, on account of some casualties they had already suffered from the enemy’s artillery, had retired behind the crest of the hill and lay down.

No sooner was the cavalry seen advancing than Sir Colin gave a brisk order, and the Highlanders sprang up and lined the crest. The advancing cavalry seemed hardly to have expected to see infantry; but they came steadily on, when, as though by common consent, the two battalions of Turks turned and fled.

This was a serious defection, and it at once became evident to that ‘thin red line’ crowning the hillock in front of Kadikoi that on them, and on them alone, rested the fate of Balaclava.

Sir Colin Campbell saw and understood the situation in a moment, and the stern old warrior rode down the lines and said, ‘Men, the safety of Balaclava rests on you. There is no retreat from here. You must die where you stand!’

The Highlanders’ faces lit up; they set their lips, their eyes gleamed, and from between their clenched teeth came the words in a sort of ominous growl,’Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we’ll do that.’

The Russian cavalry resumed their advance, and some of the Highlanders in their wild impetuosity would have rushed down upon their foe; but the angry voice of the chief rang out, ‘93rd--93rd, hang all that impetuosity!’

Then the Russian Hussars, gay troops in sky-blue, with yellow and silver lace, came within range, and the Highlanders and others, standing only in double rank, delivered a withering volley which emptied many a saddle. The enemy staggered, but still came on, when a second volley crashed into them. Then the horsemen halted and wheeled as though to take the gallant red-coats in flank; but one company of the Highlanders brought up their left shoulders, and again delivered a volley, on which the gay Hussars broke and retired downhill in confusion, followed by the fire of the English artillery and the cheers from the ‘Thin Red Line.’

Balaclava was saved!