Chapter XLVI: The Storming of the Redan

The prosecution of the siege seemed to flag a little during the last days of August and beginning of September; but, unknown to the men, preparations were being made for another great assault.

Jack had been away with his troop for some time in the valley of the Baidar; and, returning to camp late one afternoon, as he rode in was met by Will, who, after asking him what had happened, said, ‘While you’ve been away there’s been a staff-officer over here several times asking for you. He seemed most anxious to see you.’

‘Oh, what for?’

‘Goodness knows.’

‘What was his name?’

‘That I don’t know, though I’ve seen him once or twice with the staff. Anyway, he left a letter to be given to you. Here it is.’

Jack opened the letter and read:

‘DEAR SIR,--I should much like to see you, having heard a deal of
your conspicuous gallantry in the memorable cavalry charge of Oct.
25th last.

‘More especially I want to thank you for saving my life at the
passage of the Alma, and for carrying the despatch of which I was
the bearer, and which bore largely on the success of that day.

‘I am also most anxious to ask you a few questions about your
family, for it may even turn out that we may be related.--Yours
sincerely,

‘CHARLES M. HARRINGTON, Lieut.-Col.’

‘Good Heavens! Colonel Harrington.’ It must be his mother’s younger brother, his own uncle Charles, of whom he had often heard but never seen. He remembered him at the Alma quite well; and, yes, there was a strong family likeness between his mother and the colonel. It was too late to go to headquarters that night, but he would take the first opportunity he had and seek out this new-found uncle.

The next morning a terrific bombardment was opened on Sebastopol, and it soon became evident that an assault was to be made that day. Companies of infantry were being marched to the trenches, supports were hurried up, ambulance-men followed, and all knew a great struggle was about to commence.

Jack obtained permission to go up to headquarters; but when he got there he found the colonel had gone down to the trenches with Sir William Codrington. Thither Jack followed him, making his way to the fifth parallel, in which was the General.

All around him were men crouching, having ladders with which to scale the walls. Jack looked in vain for Colonel Harrington; he was nowhere to be seen. The excitement of the coming assault had, however, seized Jack, and for the moment he forgot the cause which had brought him there.

Troops continued to arrive, and it was known the Redan was the point of attack, while the French were again to attempt the Malakoff. At noon the bombardment was urged to a terrific blaze of fire, which poured from many embrasures until then kept closed.

Soon after twelve the signal for the French to storm was given by the explosion of two mines near the counterscarp, and in the confusion caused by the smoke and uproar, the Zouaves and Chasseurs rushed over the twenty-five yards dividing the ditch of the Malakoff from their own parallel, and taking the Russians completely by surprise, drove them out of the redoubt at the point of the bayonet. The tricolour was soon flying over the Malakoff. That was the signal for the English to attack the Redan.

The Russians opened a heavy fire of grape upon the trenches, doing much damage as the men clambered over the parapet. They had then to pass through a murderous fire of round-shot, grape, and musketry, and they fell in scores. Wildly dashing through, they charged over the three hundred yards that separated them from the Redan, into the ditch of which they scrambled. Men of different regiments became inextricably mixed. A dense mass were jammed on the salient of the Redan. They opened a heavy fire over the parapet upon the enemy in the interior of the work, though losing heavily from rifle and artillery fire the while.

Fresh troops continued to arrive, but there was no room on which to collect for a sudden rush into the Redan. Ammunition was constantly passed up and a continuous fire upon the interior was maintained. Hundreds fell on both sides, the ditch being actually covered with dead. At last the supply of ammunition gave out, perceiving which the enemy made a sudden rush upon the salient, and by sheer weight caused the attackers to fall back into the ditch on to the tops of bayonets, ladders, and poor wounded men who writhed in agony as they were crushed to death. Then the Russians stood upon the parapet and threw hand grenades, stones, and every conceivable missile upon the struggling mass below them.

An hour had passed, and the English had not yet captured the Redan. Then, after a heroic struggle, the survivors were being driven back for lack of supports. A fresh body of red-coats, men of the Buffs, and 41st, 90th, and 97th, made a rush forward, gallantly led by staff-officers. They came close by Jack just as a bullet struck the cocked hat from the head of one of the leaders. In an instant Jack had recognised him; it was Colonel Harrington, his uncle!

A young midshipman, badly wounded, lay close by Jack, his naked sword by his side. Fired by a sudden impulse, Jack snatched up the sword and rushed forward with the stormers. In an instant he was in a regular storm of grape and bullets, and men were falling quickly all round him. He made his way along, and was soon with the men who had been driven from the Redan.

These, men of all regiments, inextricably mixed, were firing steadily upon the Russians, holding their ground and waiting, waiting for the supports--supports which never came. Yet they hung on, losing men by tens and dozens.

Officers went back to try and get reinforcements; but General Codrington hesitated. Then the Royals sprang forward, and made a last attempt; but their formation was lost, and they were soon mixed up with the bleeding, panting, and exhausted crowd.

The guns from the Barrack and Garden Batteries poured in grape, and the Russians, issuing from the Redan, rushed on with the bayonet. A struggle that almost baffles description took place, and the British were borne back.

Jack fought his way close to Colonel Harrington, who was attempting to get the regimental officers to rally their men. A number of Russians came charging forward, and an officer cut at Colonel Harrington, but Jack with the pistol of a dead officer shot the Russian. Then a terrible mêlée took place, and the English began to retire rapidly towards their trenches, pursued by a perfect storm of lead.

Keeping in the rear, Jack presently missed Colonel Harrington, and, looking round, saw him lying on the ground some distance in the rear. Heedless of the storm of bullets, he ran back and raised the colonel’s head, attempting to get him on his feet. He succeeded, when two Russian sharpshooters rushed forward.

One Jack cut down; but the other wounded the colonel in the leg with his bayonet, only next instant to fall dead, shot through the head. The colonel was on the ground, and Jack attempted to carry him; but he was too heavy.

‘Leave me, lad!’ gasped the colonel; ‘save yourself.’

A sergeant of the Fusiliers, though, seeing what was happening, ran back, and, helping Jack, they together raised the colonel and carried him along with the retiring troops. They had almost reached the most advanced parallel when the gallant sergeant was cut almost in two by a round-shot. Other willing hands, however, now helped, and the colonel was got into the trenches. There a stretcher was procured, Jack bearing one end, and the colonel was got out of danger to the hospital tent.

Jack remained with him while the surgeon bound up his wounded leg and his left arm, which had also been struck by a bullet. He had never lost consciousness during the whole time, and when his wounds were dressed he said to Jack, ‘My brave fellow, I see you belong to the Lancers. What are you doing here?’

‘I came to find you, sir. My name is Blair.’

The colonel looked at him. ‘Is it?’ he said faintly. ‘Are you the trumpeter whom I met first at the Alma? But I see you are. Tell me, who was your father?’

Jack’s replies soon proved to the wounded colonel that he was talking to his own nephew.

‘After Balaclava,’ he said, ‘I heard several times about you from Captain Norreys. Quite by accident I saw your name some months later returned amongst the missing as John Harrington Blair. I remembered hearing that my sister’s son had received her maiden name, and a suspicion of the truth dawned upon me. I determined to see you, but you were supposed to be dead. Only the other day I heard you had returned from captivity, and I rode over to your camp and left a note for you. Now we meet thus!’

They talked some time longer, and then Jack helped to take the colonel to his own tent, where he was made comfortable and put under the care of his servant, a thoroughly reliable old soldier.

Jack then said he must return to his regiment, and the colonel took his hand. ‘My dear boy,’ he said, ‘it gives me very genuine pleasure to have found you, and that you are so much like my sister is an additional reason for liking you. I hope soon to be about again, and then I shall make it my business to push your promotion.’

Jack thanked his uncle for his good wishes; but he was more pleased over the joy he knew it would give his mother to be again on friendly terms with her family than he was at the promise of the colonel’s influence on his behalf.