Chapter XXXIII: ‘into the Jaws of Hell.’

The charge of the heavy Dragoons had been so glorious that the whole of the cavalry were mad with delight about it. The only feeling in the Light Brigade was one of envy that they had not been able to share in it. When Captain Wintle and Jack rejoined their regiment a loud cheer went up from those men who saw them.

Lord Cardigan had by that time come up from his yacht in Balaclava harbour, and had taken over the command. He sat in front of his brigade, savagely gnawing his moustache.

Captain Norreys, on seeing that his regiment was likely to go into action, had instantly asked for and obtained permission from Lord Raglan to take over the command. Still in his staff tunic and undress cap, he sat in front of the regiment; but as Jack and Captain Wintle rode up he spurred to Lord Cardigan’s side and spoke earnestly to him.

As Lord Cardigan was just in front of the 17th Lancers, Jack heard all that was said.

‘My lord,’ said Captain Norreys, ‘we should advance at once; we could cut off the enemy’s cavalry and convert their retreat into a rout.’

‘No, no, Norreys,’ replied Lord Cardigan angrily. ‘My orders are positive, to hold this position and on no account to leave it.’

‘But, my lord, such an opportunity creates a different situation. It’s clearly our duty to charge, and through doing so we need not fail to hold this position.’

‘I tell you no!’

‘Will you give me leave to charge with my regiment, then, my lord?’

‘Once and for all, no! Retire to your regiment, sir! I will obey my orders, though those confounded heavies have the laugh of us this day.’

Captain Norreys saluted, and biting his lips with anger and vexation retired, noticing Captain Wintle as he did so.

‘You, at least, have had a chance,’ he said. ‘We are committing a frightful blunder by remaining here, through the ignorance of our chief. His obstinate adherence to the very letter of an order he does not understand will cost us dear.’

Alas! a still more deplorable misconception of orders by his superior officer was shortly to send two-thirds of the light cavalry to their doom.

The colonel of the 8th Hussars had been speaking to Lord Cardigan; and Larry, as the colonel’s orderly trumpeter, was with him, the two passing close by Jack as they started back to their regiment. Larry reined in a moment.

‘Jack, ye’ve just all the luck in the wurrld,’ he said; ‘ye’ve been in the finest charge since Waterloo, and here are we, sitting still, eating our hearts out wid envy.’

‘Our turn may come yet, Larry,’ said Jack, shaking his warm-hearted friend’s hand; and then he took his place in the ranks, telling Pearson and the others round what he had seen of the heavy cavalry charge.

Presently Pearson said, ‘Hallo, what’s up. There’s an aide-de-camp from headquarters jawing old Lucan,’

All turned and saw an officer in Hussar uniform, the impetuous Captain Nolan, talking vehemently to Lord Lucan, waving his arm and pointing straight up the north valley to where the Russians had a battery of twelve guns posted. They talked some time; then both Lord Lucan and Captain Nolan rode over to Lord Cardigan and a further conversation occurred. They spoke loudly, and the front-rank men of the 17th could hear distinctly some of the conversation.

‘Certainly, sir; but allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the valley on our front, and batteries and Riflemen on each flank,’ they heard Lord Cardigan say.

Lord Lucan shrugged his shoulders and replied, ‘I cannot help it; Lord Raglan will have it so. We have no choice but to obey. When I asked Captain Nolan what we were to attack, he pointed up the valley with his sword, and said in an insulting manner, “There, my lord, is your enemy; there are your guns.”’

‘Enough, my lord,’ answered Lord Cardigan quietly, saluting with his sword. Then turning and facing his men he said, ‘The brigade will advance.’

Lord Lucan first ordered the 11th Hussars back, leaving the 17th Lancers and 13th Light Dragoons in the front rank, 11th Hussars and 4th Light Dragoons in the second, and the 8th Hussars in the rear rank. These dispositions were made quietly and orderly; the lines were dressed, and the squadron, troop, and serrafile leaders took up their positions.

Lord Cardigan called Lord Paget, the colonel of the 4th Light Dragoons, to him, and said, ‘My lord, I want you to give me your best support--mind, your best support.’

Lord Paget saluted his superior, saying, ‘You may rely upon me, my lord,’ and retired to his regiment.

Lord Cardigan then placed himself about five horses’ length in front of his brigade, saying to Trumpeter Brittain of the 17th, who was his orderly, ‘Sound the trot,’ and the brigade moved off.

Jack was behind Captain Wintle; on his right was Cornet Leland, and just behind him were Brandon, Pearson, and Williams. Will was with Captain Norreys in front. The men were in high spirits, though all realised the desperate venture on which they were about to be launched.

‘We’ll show ’em to-day whether cavalry are any good or not,’ said Pearson, as he gripped his lance firmly.

‘Ay, the heavies are not the only ones who can push home a charge,’ said Williams.

‘Ha, hum!’ sounded a voice from behind, ‘ye’ll be better keeping your breath, you toads. Use your arms more and your tongues less; we’ve got a long way to go;’ and Sergeant Linham blew violently down his nose.

Most of them there were going on the longest journey of all--the last, long journey from whence none return.

They had not proceeded very far when some shouting was heard from behind; a hoarse command to some one to halt it seemed. Jack turned his head and beheld a strange sight. Private Veigh, the regimental butcher, clad only in shirt and overalls, the former blood-stained, mounted on a white horse, a black clay-pipe in his mouth, a sword in his hand, was forcing his way into his proper place in the ranks. He had been busy killing oxen, when, hearing the trumpets of the Light Brigade sounding the advance, he had seized a sword, jumped bareback on the first horse he could see, and joined his troop.

‘If the old 17th’s going into action I’m going with it,’ he said, and in spite of the positive orders of his officers to retire he insisted on remaining, and went on with his regiment.

They had got some little distance up the valley when Captain Nolan, who had announced his intention of charging with the brigade, and had taken up his position on the left flank, was seen spurring wildly forward, advancing diagonally across their front, waving his sword and shouting out something at the top of his voice as though he would address the brigade.

Lord Cardigan looked angrily at the aide-de-camp; and Captain Norreys, who was close to him, thinking he was trying to force the pace of the brigade, shouted out, ‘No, no, Nolan, that won’t do; we’ve got a long way to go yet.’

The Hussar shouted still more frantically and waved his sword, when a shell, the first fired at the Light Brigade, burst just above him and a fragment struck him full in the chest. His features turned livid; but he still galloped on, his sword-arm held high in the air. He gave one cry, a shrill, unearthly scream, then his horse carried him on through the interval of the 13th Light Dragoons, and he fell to the ground a corpse, the first to pay the penalty of the fatal blunder for which he was partly responsible, and which was sending four hundred of England’s most gallant sons to their death.

The first discharge was followed by others, and in a few seconds a hundred guns and thousands of rifles thundered and rattled. The Fedioukine Heights on their left and the Causeway Heights on their right were held by infantry and field-artillery in great numbers, and these opened a tremendous fire on the devoted horsemen charging down the valley. Facing them, but at a distance of a mile and a quarter, were twelve Cossack nine-pounders; and behind these, smarting under their late defeat and waiting for an opportunity to avenge themselves, could it be done with safety, were the dense columns of cavalry which the heavy Dragoons had rolled up the Causeway Heights little more than half-an-hour before.

A regiment charging an army! Six hundred light horsemen against twenty-four thousand of all arms! As they got farther up the valley the fire under which they came was terrific. Shells, round-shot, grape, rockets, tore and ploughed through the ranks, while bullets simply rained. Down the whole length of the line men and horses began to fall, and the cry ran constantly along the ranks, ‘Close up! Close up!’

The calmness of the officers seemed terrible. Amidst all the slaughter, Captains Norreys and Wintle kept a sharp eye on their squadrons, and every now and then they cried out, ‘Mind your dressing, Private Jones! Do keep back, Wilson! Steady there!’ as a round-shot with a hideous, moist plunge struck a corporal in the chest and literally cut him in two. ‘Steady there, steady! Close up! Close up!’ as a man and horse went down on the left. Gaps were constantly occurring, and the line was diminishing as the riders closed in. The riderless horses, their eyes wild with terror, their breasts flecked with foam, galloped along with the line, trying to force their way to their places in the ranks or crowding round the officers in front.

On, on, ever on they went, Jack keeping his eyes on the crimson overalls and scarlet pelisse, blazing with gold, of Lord Cardigan, who, with his admirable seat in the saddle and his sword carried at the slope, without turning to right or left, led that line of horsemen straight for the mouths of the guns. Presently a great white cloud of smoke appeared in front, and from the twelve guns facing them another torrent of shot and shell was poured upon them. Assailed on front and flanks, the fury of the hail of death was indescribable. The excitement of the men reached fever-heat.

‘Forward! forward!’ they cried. ‘Let us get at the guns.’

Captain Norreys increased the pace and was soon alongside Lord Cardigan, who put out his sword across the Lancer’s breast.

‘Don’t pass the leader of the brigade,’ he said sternly; and Captain Norreys fell back.

A second round from the battery in front came crashing through the already torn and mangled ranks; then Lord Cardigan waved his sword and increased his pace.

‘Charge!’ cried Captain Norreys; and Jack jerked out a note or two as they literally raced along.[5]

‘Who is there here would ask another man from England?’ quoted Brandon, bringing his lance down to the ‘engage.’

Hardly had the words left his lips when a nine-pounder ball took him in the face, and his brains were scattered on Jack and Pearson, between whom he was at that moment riding.

Sergeant Linham, on the left of Jack, was riding with set lips, a hard light shining in his eyes.

‘A little farther, you toads,’ he cried, ‘and then we shall be in amongst ’em! Remember the motto of our regiment, “Death or Glory!”’

The line was then so torn that all cohesion was lost; they were advancing in clumps and clusters.

Captain Wintle, Cornet Leland, Sir William Lennox, Sergeant Linham, Brittain, Pearson, and Jack were all together, just to the right rear of Lord Cardigan, when the guns in front, not eighty yards away, were all fired simultaneously. The flash from the muzzles seemed almost to burn and blind the devoted riders advancing upon them, a shower of grape swept through them, and almost the whole of the front rank vanished. Jack just had time to notice that he and Linham were the only two left of all who had been together a moment before; then they were in the smoke of the guns, past the gleaming brass muzzles, and in amongst the leather-helmeted artillerymen, cutting and thrusting with the anger of men who have seen their best comrades blown to pieces.

Jack found himself opposed to an immense, beetle-browed fellow, who aimed a blow at him with a rammer. Jack drew his pistol and immediately shot him through the head. Another artilleryman made a cut at him with his sword, but Jack clove his head and made a point at another fellow, who crept under the wheels of his gun to escape. Vain hope, a Lancer behind Jack saw him, and in another moment had pinned him to the ground with his lance.

For a couple of minutes, Lancers and Dragoons, the remnant of the leading regiments not more than fifty men in all, raged among the battery, and very few Russians lived to relate their experiences. The battery silenced, Jack rode on with his comrades, who then found themselves faced by a dense mass of Russian cavalry.

Captain Norreys immediately held up his sword. ‘Rally on me, 17th,’ he cried; and about twenty men formed behind him.

Jack, sword in hand, placed himself with the rest, when the gallant captain cried, ‘Now, men, keep together--charge!’ and away they went at the Russian Dragoons, who sat perfectly still awaiting the shock.

Captain Norreys rode straight for the officer in command, and with his sword pierced him through and through. The Russian threw up his arms and fell from the off-side of his horse; and the Lancer, being unable to withdraw his blade, which was fastened to his wrist by the sword-knot, was held a prisoner.

As Jack flew past he saw his officer receive a cut on the side of the head which brought him from the saddle. There was no time to stop, however, and he dashed on with the handful of Lancers, who crashed into the Russians, unhorsing and killing a good many, when the rest instantly turned and fled. The Lancers pursued them for some distance till they found themselves being charged in turn by a horde of Cossacks, who were taking them in flank, when they drew off towards a small party of the 13th.

Jack then saw Lord Cardigan some distance ahead, sitting quite calmly on his horse, with his sword at the slope, while several Cossacks circled round him, poking at him with their lances. A large troop of Cossacks were just in front of Lord Cardigan, and it seemed as if his enemies were more intent on capturing than killing him.

‘Come on, boys! the chief’s in danger,’ cried Jack; and he dashed forward just as a Cossack got his lance entangled in Lord Cardigan’s pelisse.

Seeing the handful of Lancers advancing towards them, the Cossacks wheeled and fled, and Lord Cardigan, turning his horse’s head, trotted off back towards the Russian guns, which he passed through and then went on down the valley, taking no further part in the fight.

Jack heard a shout behind them, and, turning, saw Sergeant Barrymore with a few men of his own regiment.

‘Death or Glory Boys, this way,’ Jack cried to those with him as he waved his sword.

There was no one above the rank of corporal among the dozen or so men he was with, and these yielded Jack ready obedience. They followed him and formed up with those of their comrades under Sergeant Barrymore.

‘Thank God you’ve escaped, Jack,’ said the latter; and they all trotted off towards their left.

Some Russian Hussars were passing close to them; and Jack, whose eyes were very keen, cried, ‘By heaven, they’ve got some of our officers prisoners;’ and before any one could stop him, at headlong pace he charged down upon the Hussars.

He cut down one man who, he saw, was leading along Captain Norreys, who was bleeding freely from one or two wounds in the head. Bidding the captain take hold of his stirrup, Jack then laid about him furiously with his sword; but he would have been quickly cut to pieces had not Sergeant Barrymore come charging down with the rest of the men and put the Hussars to flight.

Besides Captain Norreys, there was an officer of the 11th Hussars prisoner, and both these were rescued. Jack caught a riderless horse, bound up his officer’s head, and, putting a sword in his hand, mounted him and directed him down the valley.

‘Your gallantry will not go unrewarded, Blair,’ said the wounded captain as he started on his homeward ride.

Meanwhile the other regiments of the Light Brigade had charged in amongst the guns and had prevented the Russians from carrying them off, for, after the first line of English cavalry passed through, more Russian artillerymen came flocking down and endeavoured to withdraw the guns. Their fire having been silenced by the first line, the 11th Hussars passed through the guns with but little damage, and Jack, with his handful of Lancers, saw them draw up in beautiful order, facing the Russian rear and preparing to charge down upon a large body of Russian Hussars and Lancers who faced them.

‘We must not be out of this,’ cried Jack, turning round to where Barrymore had been a few minutes before; but the sergeant had disappeared. ‘17th, follow me!’ cried Jack, waving his sword, and the troopers trotted off.

They formed up on the left of the Hussars just as the colonel gave the word to charge, and away they went at the foe. These did not stand to receive the shock, but turned and fled, Lancers and Hussars pursuing them and sabring a good many.

Maddened by the terrible charge they had made down that long valley, on which they had left the greater part of their comrades, the English went on till they had driven the Russians right back to the aqueduct against the Tractir Bridge. Then, overwhelming masses advancing on both flanks, they gave up the pursuit and halted. Officers shouted commands, and the trumpets sounded threes about, when the 11th wheeled and retired.

Jack and his comrades had become separated from the Hussars in the charge and pursuit, and had gone on farther than any of the rest, having no officer to restrain them. Jack suddenly noticed that they were isolated, and that the other regiments had retreated.

‘What are we going to do now, youngster?’ asked a voice behind him, and turning he saw Veigh, the butcher, still smoking his black clay-pipe.

‘We must retire,’ said Jack; and seizing his bugle he sounded ‘threes about.’

The handful of Lancers had not gone far, however, when a whole cloud of Cossacks came charging down upon them.

‘Keep together!’ cried Jack, spurring out to the front; ‘knee to knee, we must cut our way through!’

This they endeavoured to do; but the enemy surrounding the little group was too strong, and, circling round, cut and hacked as though determined that not a solitary man should escape. They were indeed in a tight corner, and Jack was thinking that not one of them would get away when he heard a shout from the flank, and on the slope above the Russians saw the well-known uniform of the 8th Hussars.

‘Hurrah! the busby-bags are coming,’ he cried; and in another minute the 8th were cutting their way through to their comrades.

Foremost among them was Larry, who recognised Jack with a shout of welcome.

‘Praise the saints, you’re safe, Jack!’ he said. ‘Come on, this way; 17th and 8th for ever! Hurrah for the ould 25th!’

They dashed through the Russians and returned to the guns, where they were joined by a few men of the 4th Light Dragoons, and as fast as their tired horses would go they began to retreat down the valley, which, alas! was now strewn with dead and dying men and horses. Some on foot, some mounted, singly and in groups, the remnants of the brigade were staggering back. The Russians on the Causeway Heights had opened again with rifle and artillery, and were directing their fire on every little group.

Jack and his comrades did not number more than forty in all, till presently, down the valley, they came upon a little group of Englishmen engaged with a score of Cossacks. Jack recognised his own uniform, and to his joy saw Sergeant Linham and Will, the latter being dismounted.

Linham was engaged in a single combat with a Cossack officer, who made a cut which Linham parried. He prepared to return it when the Cossack officer threw up his hand, then handed the hilt of his sword to Linham.

‘Ha, hum, you toad!’ cried the sergeant; ‘form guard there, you heathen. Don’t give up till you’re hurt.’

The Russian understood nothing, and as Jack came up with his comrades he noticed the man was the very same whom they had last seen wounded in the cottage. He seemed to recognise Jack too.

Linham cried out angrily, ‘It’s opposed to all the rules of warfare to surrender in the middle of a fair fight; form your guard.’

‘Never mind that, Jim,’ said Will; ‘help me catch a horse.’

‘Here, Will,’ cried Jack, seizing the pony of a Cossack who had just been cut down; and he helped his chum into the saddle.

They now saw that before them several squadrons of Russian Lancers had advanced into the valley from the slopes, and were drawn up barring their progress. Behind them was a whole cloud of Cossacks and Hussars.

‘Quick, men!’ cried Jack; ‘we must cut our way through the force in front, or we’re done!’

‘Lead us, youngster, and we’ll follow’ cried a grizzled Hussar with many years’ service.

With the group of cavalrymen of different regiments there was only one officer, and he was so grievously wounded as to be hardly able to sit his horse, much less command. Several non-commissioned officers there were, but these seemed quite willing to act under Jack’s guidance.

The opportunity of Jack’s life had occurred, and he took it; he felt that he was born to command, and it came easy to him.

‘Front form!’ he cried, facing his little force. ‘17th on the right! Keep well together and save your horses till I give the word. We shall want every ounce that is in them.’

‘Well done, Jack!’ growled Sergeant Linham.

Jack placed himself well in front of his troop; Sergeant Linham directed the left, a sergeant of Dragoons the right.

‘Trot!’ cried Jack; and they moved down, a compact body, upon the Russian Lancers.

From the Causeway Heights they were plied with shot as they advanced; but as the distance between them and their enemies in front was decreased the fire necessarily lessened.

When fifty yards from the foe, Jack placed his bugle to his mouth and sounded the charge. As the last note rang out a round-shot caught the bugle and dashed it from Jack’s grasp, ripping it from the cord by which it was attached to his shoulder, and almost tearing him from the saddle. So dazed was he that he dropped his sword, and, allowing it to dangle from his wrist by the sword-knot, caught a rein in each hand. He, however, headed his horse directly for the officer who seemed in command of the Lancers in front of him. The Russian, seeing the trumpeter making straight for him, drew aside, and Jack, passing him, dashed in amongst the men behind him. He went in between two files, and almost before he could realise it was through.

His momentary dizziness passed, and he clutched his sword just as those behind him crashed into the Lancers. The combat was short and sharp. The Russians had again received the charge at the halt, and again were scattered.

Then in front of them Jack perceived more squadrons drawn up to bar their way, and these were wheeling back from their left so as to fall upon the flank of the little body as it passed.

‘Bring up your left shoulders!’ shouted Jack as they dashed on, and this they did.

They were soon up with the second body of Lancers, and as Jack went by he noticed the same clenched teeth, the same uncertainty of purpose. Though they were in the correct position for their attack, the Russians did not press it home, and the handful of Englishmen went by, brushing aside the lance-points with their swords and losing only one or two men in both charges. But their horses were by then almost done up, their pace was only a shambling trot, in many cases little better than a walk. With renewed fury the guns on the Causeway Heights opened on them, though Jack noticed that the guns on the Fedioukine Hills were silent. Afterwards he learnt that this was due to the brilliant and timely charge of D’Allonville with his Chasseurs d’Afrique.

The part of the valley along which the survivors of that terrible charge were struggling bore dreadful testimony to the havoc which had been wrought. Men in the blue and white of Lancer and Dragoon, in the laced pelisse and crimson overalls of the Hussars, lay scattered about in every conceivable attitude of agony and death. Shattered horses and mangled riders lay around. Some men were seen limping painfully, helped by comrades, some even crawling, over the ground strewn with headdresses and accoutrements. And while the enemy still plied them with shot and shell, Cossacks clung to them, spearing without mercy the stragglers, cutting down those who were too weak to move. Besides which, little bands of the defeated Russian Lancers pursued remnants of the brigade till the Russian artillery, unwilling that any of the ill-fated cavalrymen should escape, opened with grape and shell on both friend and foe together.

The Russians retreated, and the devoted few held on their way a little farther. Jack was hoping they would, after all, win back to where, still some distance ahead, he could see the scarlet coats of the Scots Greys, when Dainty suddenly fell dead-lame.

Jack, who was in rear of the others, instantly dismounted and found the poor animal had been struck in the foreleg by a bullet. ‘Faithful friend, I will get you out of this inferno if I can,’ he muttered; and led Dainty, who limped on three legs, along for some distance. His comrades had got some way down the valley when two shells, in rapid succession, burst over them, and several men and horses, mostly of the Hussars, fell killed or wounded.

While leading his limping horse Jack suddenly noticed on his right a dismounted man of his own regiment engaged with five Cossacks. He turned aside to help him just as a shell exploded close by him, one of the splinters of which struck poor Dainty, and, penetrating to her heart, killed her on the spot.

Jack was dazed for a moment, but he recovered and ran towards his comrade. The shell which had killed Dainty had also killed three of the Cossacks. Jack, taking another from behind, ran him through, when the last man, after firing at Jack, galloped off.

Jack now saw that the man he had come to rescue was Sergeant Barrymore. He stood over Captain Norreys, who was lying with his leg under a dead horse.

‘I found the captain lying pinned to the ground by his charger,’ said Barrymore, ‘and stayed to help him.’

‘Go on, friend,’ said poor Captain Norreys in a weak voice; ‘I feel I’m done for.’

In truth, Captain Norreys was a terrible sight, his face being simply covered with blood, while his right arm was shattered, smashed by a bullet.

‘Never fear, sir; we’ll get you out of this or die with you,’ said Jack.

Remembering the brandy he had in his water-bottle, Jack gave the captain a good drink; then he and Barrymore took a sip. They then managed to get the dead horse off their officer, when Barrymore took him gently under the arms, Jack supporting his legs, and they began to carry him along between them.

By that time they were almost the last of the Light Brigade in the valley. The Russians directed a heavy fire at them; but although balls hummed and sang round them they won on fifty yards or so unhurt, till several more Cossacks, as though grudging that one should escape, came spurring down towards them.

The gallant pair had to lay down the wounded captain, and Jack picked up the carbine and pouch-belt of a Dragoon who lay dead at his feet.

‘Leave me, boys; leave me,’ moaned the wounded officer. ‘I must die.’

‘Then we’ll all die together,’ said Barrymore grimly; and Jack, raising his carbine, brought down a Cossack. He loaded quickly and fired again with equal success; then he and Barrymore stood, sword in hand, and for a few moments defended Captain Norreys from the Cossacks who circled round, making savage thrusts with their lances.

The sergeant managed to give one of them a tremendous gash across the hand with his sabre, on which he fell back, and the others, seeing the resolute attitude of the two Lancers, trotted off.

Again Jack and Barrymore took up the wounded officer, this time making a chair of their hands. On and on they staggered, until from sheer exhaustion Jack felt he could go no farther. He began to stumble, and at last Barrymore was compelled to stop. They were then almost at the end of the valley. They laid down their wounded officer again, but still determined to remain with him and die rather than leave him, though he was then unconscious.

They had stood thus for nearly a minute when they heard a cheer behind them, and a troop of the Scots Greys came up at a trot.

‘Come on, comrades,’ cried a hearty voice, and two Dragoons, having a stretcher with them, picked up the wounded Lancer and helped the faithful pair to carry him down the valley and out of the zone of fire.