Chapter I: "blow, Good Wind, and Waft Us East."

War, war, war! Yes; war was the cry, from Land's End to John o' Groat's. In England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, war, war, war! In the drawing-rooms of the wealthy, in the humblest cottar's hut far away on Highland hillsides, you heard that song; it was sung by prince and peer and peasant, in theatre and concert and gutter. And even in churches, bishops, in their sleeves of lawn, prayed to Heaven to bless our arms, and for the "God of battle" to fight on our behalf.

Oh, Britain was valiant, Britain was brave in those days, just as she would be were war to be declared to-morrow against any nation, no matter which.

And we were in the right, too. So everybody believed, so everybody said.

Turkey, for this once at all events, was a poor, down-trodden country; Russia the cowardly, Russia the aggressive and grasping, had her heel upon her neck.

"Holy Russia!" Yes, there were many who made use of those two little words, and spoke them with a sneer. Holy, indeed! Was she not the vilest, the most ignorant and tyrannical nation on earth--a nation of slaves and serfs domineered over by an emperor who, if he could find no one else to trample under foot, would make war upon his own people, would throw them into prison if they but dared to call their heads their own; who tore the newly-married wife from the arms of her husband, lacerated her tender flesh with the knout, and sent her in chains to die amidst the snows of Siberia?

Holy Russia, indeed! Nay, but Russia the despot. Every portion of her bygone history was raked up to help to fill the bill against her--so far, that is, as Britons knew anything about it; all that poets told us about poor Poland for instance, and sang to us about Warsaw's last champion; all about Ivan the Terrible, and goodness knows what else. And Russia was the same now--just as cruel, just as dark-hearted, as blood-thirsty, and tyrannical as ever. Down with her! Back with her to her own Siberian wilds! Crush her, annihilate her!

Yes, certainly; and after we had done all this we should return thanks to Him who had given us the victory--feast and _fête_ our brave soldiers and sailors, or what remained of them--make a kind of a Christmas-time of it, even though it should be midsummer, and eat and drink until we should be ill. Hurrah for war!

But was Russia wholly to blame for the sad Crimean War? And was Russia really so bad as she was called? Did we not rather jump to the conclusion that this great kingdom was all vile and evil, just because we knew nothing at all about it? When I say "we," I of course refer to the ordinary British public.

Nowadays, be it remembered, dear reader, what with school boards, county councils, extra newspapers, and so on and so forth, the public is becoming more enlightened; and if we were going to war now, the people would probably ask their leaders, political and otherwise, what the quarrel was about, and why they were ordered to peel off their spare clothes and go for the enemy pell-mell. And their leaders would feel it incumbent upon them to supply the desired information--that is to say, if they themselves knew anything about it. But in old Crimean times the people were more easily pleased, and took everything for granted that was told them. They were led by the nose, not by the intellect. If you had asked any body of British workmen in those days why the country was going to war, their answer would have been, "'Cause we are. The Russians want whopping--the papers all say so--and we're going to whop them."

Then if you had said, "But what have they done? what have they done?" the workmen would have repeated, "Why, what is it they haven't done? What is it they ain't always a-doing of? Just read the Parleymintary reports for yourself. Is it likely we would go to war if we didn't oughter to? Anyhow we're goin' to fight. Fetch 'em out. Hurray!"

I am told--though personally I was but a boy then--that the ignorance displayed in what is called society, or the "upper circles," was about on a par with that of the British workman concerning the causes that led to the war, and that even some so-called statesmen were densely ignorant on this subject. They had to read up quite a deal before they dare submit themselves to a "heckling" at dinner-parties or over the walnuts and the wine.

Over the walnuts and wine, indeed, some of those great statesmen were less nervous, and could speak more freely, knowing from their own experience that very little of what was said would be remembered next day.

And now--although I should be very sorry indeed to hamper this story of mine by talking politics--it will do you, reader, no harm to know that at this time the Russian peasant or artisan in town or country was--and probably is even yet--an ignorant, good-natured, frequently drink-besotted, credulous, hard-working "sumph," with a good deal of poetry and romance in his nature, nevertheless, and not a little real piety. He lived, perhaps, very much the same sort of life as our own peasantry did before the days of education dawned and the press began to guide and sway public opinion. Next to things heavenly, this people considered it their duty to obey the behests of their emperor and those in authority above them. When I add that ignorance caused them to have just the same erroneous impressions of us as we had of them, I think I have said enough to bring the quality of the Russian peasant before your mind's eye. It was from his ranks that the soldiery were drawn; only after they joined their regiments they were led to believe that Britain was a nation of savages, and that the true faith was not in it; rather, indeed, would its people trample on the most holy things, murder priests at their altars, and desecrate and burn temples and shrines. The Russian soldier, if he thought at all, looked upon his country as a kind of Holy Land, and he himself as a soldier of the Faith and of the Cross.

Well, my own opinion is that the next best thing to fighting an enemy is to respect him, and I am quite sure that if we--the Russians and the British--had known more of each other in those old days, we would have loved each other a little more, even while cutting each other's throats. This reads a little paradoxical, does it not? But if my theory is carried a little further, how then? Why, we should have no bloody wars at all. For the more nations know each other, the more they sympathize with each other; sympathy makes us charitable, even to our neighbours' shortcomings; sympathy begets love, and love makes us sheathe the sword: so war becomes impossible. It is love of this kind that is to lead the millennium in; but knowledge has got to go before--we must not forget that.

* * * * *

"I say, sir," said Jack Mackenzie to Mr. Sturdy one night, as they sat together on the skylight, while the good ship _Gurnet_ was speeding onwards and eastwards over the Atlantic, with every stitch of canvas drawing that she could bear, and stun'-sails alow and aloft,--"I say, sir, what is our immediate cause of quarrel with Russia?"

"A very pretty question, Jack; a parson couldn't have put it in better English. But really, lad, a parson might be a fitter man to answer it than a rough sailor like me. Seems to me, however, and from what I learned on board the _Limpet_, that Russia thinks it is high time to reform Turkey."

"To reform her with the sword?"

"Ay, ay, lad--the old fashion. To improve the greatest portion of her off the face of the earth, and to sweep all the Turks who won't turn Christian back into the land of heathendom--that is, clean out of Europe into Asia."

"Seems very mindful of Russia, doesn't it, sir? And if successful, does she expect no reward?"

"Reward? why, yes; and a proud reward too. She, and she alone, is to rule where Turkey now rules; to have complete possession of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles--take a look at your map, lad, when you go below--and thus have the freedom of the Mediterranean, and a sea-board on the warmer and sunnier southern climes. No wonder that such a prospect dazzles the Czar, and even his people.

"And no more fitting time, he believes, could be than the present, Jack. Russia, you see, is trying her hand at the construction of a new map of Europe. It would be a very handy map for the Czar, but a very expensive one for other Powers. If we--the British, for instance--desired to hold our own, to keep Malta, Alexandria, or to open up a near route to our possessions in India, we should have then to maintain a fleet in the Mediterranean at least three times as large as it now is. But France, to say nothing of Prussia and Italy, has also interests to protect. It would suit neither to see Russia acquiring a splendid new capital--namely, Constantinople--and therefore holding the key of the Mediterranean."

"Ahem!" said Jack. "Of course I don't know enough to argue on either side. But, sir, doesn't it seem a little rough on Russia to be locked up in the icy north, and to have no outlet to the southern seas?"

"She might have, lad--she might have, if she could be trusted. But she won't play fair. She wants to eat all the pie, and give nobody else a plum. As for Austria, if Russia gets hold on Turkey, she gets command of the Danube at the same time, and would in time, no doubt, turn that country, _nolens volens_, into a province of her own."

"The Russians must be very ambitious and aspiring."

"Yes; and now the Czar, having, as he thinks, made a friend of the youthful or boyish Emperor of Austria, believes the time has come for a _coup de main_. Well, Jack, if one man desires to pick a quarrel with another, and to hit him across the bows, some excuse very soon presents itself. And so war between these two countries--Turkey and Russia--has been hinged upon some dispute concerning the holy places of Palestine."

"Holy Russia!" said Jack.

"Holy Russia may be right enough, Jack, as far as the innocent people are concerned; but I believe the Emperor Nicholas to be a sly, underhand dog. The dispute was of a very simple nature, lad. There are in Palestine a Greek Church and a Latin Church. Russia is champion of the Greek, France favours the Latin Church, and the question came to be which of these should hold the key of the Church of Bethlehem; and the Turks, in trying to please both Powers, so offended Holy Russia that she sent south two great army corps to the Danubian Principalities, and at the same time dispatched Prince Menschikoff as an envoy to Constantinople to intimidate, if not to coerce, the Sultan."

"And what did the Sultan do? bastinado the Prince?"

"That might certainly have precipitated matters. But the Turks are an indolent, easy-minded kind of a people, who fight well, but only when forced; so they caved in, as we call it."

"Acceded to Russia's demands?"

"That's better English. But listen, lad. The Czar, seeing now that he couldn't get ends to meet in one way, tried another. There are a very large number of Christians in Turkey, and over these the Emperor of all the Russias next demanded a complete protectorate!

"It was the delusion, Jack, therefore, that we did not see through his ultimate designs, and that the British lion was harnessed to the plough-stilts, and never likely to lift an angry paw, which led the Czar to be so threatening towards Turkey as to cause that country to declare war against Russia, which she did on the twenty-third of October 1853. The next thing that happened was that, with the view of protecting their interests, France and Britain sent their combined fleets off to the Bosphorus.

"'If,' thought the Czar to himself, 'we can get Britain to keep quiet, we may snap our fingers at the other Powers, and crush Turkey up like an empty egg-shell. And John Bull is far too busy attending to trade and making money to bother about the Ottoman Empire. If John Bull does, why, I can suggest his having Egypt and Candia.'

"The despatch of the fleets to the Bosphorus was not a declaration of war, but a kind of a display of physique under the title of moral suasion, just as when two men peel to fight, Jack.

"Meanwhile, you see the people of our isle have been watching the manoeuvres of the big bully. To begin with, they didn't like the insolent arrogance of Menschikoff in Constantinople; but when news came that the Russians, with six line-o'-battle ships, had attacked a squadron of light Turkish vessels at anchor in the harbour of Sinope in the Black Sea, and utterly destroyed them and their crews--a holocaust, my boy, of between 4,000 and 5,000 men--then Britain cried 'Shame!"'

"It was time," said Jack.

"Yes; and we now brought our moral suasion to bear even on the boy Kaiser of Austria. Russia must evacuate the Danubian Principalities. This demand was made by united Britain and France in February of this year, Jack (1854). At this time it was supposed that the war would be one on the Danube. But the Kaiser moved 50,000 men up to the frontier, which the Czar had seized--showing plainly that she means to join the scrimmage if need be.

"Well, Jack, of course we can't tell what is doing now out there, but very likely they are all at it hammer and tongs, for in March the French and British declared war."

"Terrible, isn't it, sir?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking," said bold Sturdy; "only, you see, war means promotion for you and me. As far as I am concerned, lad, promotion has been a jolly long time of coming, and I'm not going to say a word against the war now that I see my captaincy heaving in sight above the horizon, Meanwhile, Jack--blow, good wind, and waft us east; for whatever happens, I should, I must confess, like to see a little of the fighting and a bit of the fun."

* * * * *

Lieutenant Sturdy was in all respects a true sailor, and a warrior at that. It is, indeed, a blessing for our country that our navy--which is still the best in the world, though far inferior, indeed, to what it ought to be--is manned by thousands of hearts as brave as his.

Fear the British sailor does not know--even death has few terrors for him; because Jack is really a thinking man, and he counts his chances, and he knows, too, that he has only once to die.

Where, then, can he die better than with cutlass or rifle in hand, fighting for his dearly-beloved country, either afloat or ashore?

Meanwhile the _Gurnet_ speeds on, and so do events in the East.

In order to understand the first plan of campaign that the Russians had laid down for themselves, quite relying upon the acquiescence of Austria, I pray you to take a glance at the skeleton map of the Black Sea and its surroundings.

When I was a youngster myself I did not like maps, and remembering this, I have placed neither town, river, bay, nor cape that is unnecessary in this present map of mine, specially made for you, reader.

Well, you will easily find out Sinope, where the Russians massacred the Turkish sailors. I want you to remember that their fleet had sallied forth from Sebastopol for this purpose. Now, note the river Danube. It was by this route that the Russians had meant to make their advance against Turkey. Further south you will observe Silistria and Shumla, and south still the Balkan Mountains. It was through the passes of these that the Russians were to extend their march, and so on to Constantinople.

Our army and that of the French were therefore at first landed at Varna, and went into camp between that place and Shumla. It was believed at this time that the Russians would fight us here by land.

But after having laid siege to Silistria, which the Turks bravely defended, and being hard pressed by Austria, who seemed now determined to join the allied armies and declare war, the Czar withdrew his forces and recrossed the frontier.

The truth is that Russia had counted all along upon the friendship, or at least the neutrality, of Austria. As soon as the Russians had left the Principalities, the territory was occupied by the Austrians. They certainly had the most interest in the threatened invasion and conquest of Turkey by the Czar, and it is believed that even at this late date the whole business might have been settled without war, and that Russia could have been compelled, from the pressure put upon her, to indemnify Turkey for the injuries done her.

But Britain had not the slightest intention of so inglorious an ending to the great "weapon-show" she had commenced. Were our splendid troops, eager and burning for fight, to return to their own country and homes, with, figuratively speaking, their fingers in their mouths, and without having once drawn a trigger? Perish the thought!

The Russian Bear must be crushed and humbled, his fleet in the Black Sea must be destroyed, and Sebastopol, Russia's strongest fortress in this sea, laid in ashes.

War! war! war!

When I come to think of it now, reader, I don't altogether blame the people of Great Britain for desiring to humble the overbearing Emperor Nicholas. Even the _Queen_ herself saw that he was in the wrong, and talked of the ambition and selfishness of one man and his immediate subordinates as being the cause of our having to draw the sword. On the other hand, I do not think that any one who has read the history of this great war could help pitying the Czar's subjects. The poet Cowper says,--

"War's a game which, were their subjects wise,
Kings would not play at."

But the sufferings of our own poor soldiers and sailors, all brought on by mismanagement, strike closer home to our hearts. We can pity these still more, while we cannot but be angry with those who were to account for all their misery, and for all the trials they so bravely bore.

We gained experience in the Crimea, however, and one might almost say that this is cheap at any price.