Chapter II

A GHASTLY ADVENTURE--THE EMBARKATION--A
STORMY LANDING.

As soon as it was known in Britain that the Russians had retreated from the Danube, and that their forces would in all likelihood be poured into the Crimea to reinforce that great stronghold, every scrap of news from the seat of war was welcomed with the greatest enthusiasm. Every one, too, seemed to be listening breathlessly and in silence for the first shot to be fired. It was a silence, all made sure, that would soon be broken by the pæans of victory. Our soldiers near Varna were not idle. True, they were waiting for embarkation, and what a wearisome wait it was! It would have been irksome in the extreme had our troops not been kept busy collecting wood and manufacturing gabions and bastions for the siege-works before Sebastopol.

Even already, then, it will be noted that a siege was in contemplation. Nobody, however, had any idea it would be a long one. The allied fleets had complete possession of the Black Sea. In a manner of speaking, Sebastopol was already besieged or blockaded. Our object was, or rather ought to have been, to isolate the Crimea from Russia. (_Vide_ map.) Seeing that the neck of land that joins it to the mainland is of no great width, this ought to have presented but few difficulties. We should thus have effectually prevented enforcements from pouring into Sebastopol.

But difficulties arose long before the allies were ready for embarkation that no one had dreamt of. While the French troops were still on their voyage from Marseilles, some cases of that terrible disease the cholera had broken out among the troops. The doctors made as light of it as they could, assuring those in command that, as soon as the army had landed and commenced active service, the plague would be stayed.

This was very far indeed from being the case. The cholera grew even more virulent after the men got under canvas. Here was an enemy, then, that seemed to fight on the side of "Holy Russia," and that, too, with terrible effect; for before the embarkation for the Crimea, the French army had about 10,000 dead or hors de combat, while nearly a thousand of our own brave soldiers had succumbed. The fleet, too, was attacked, and steamed away to sea in the hopes of safety. In vain. It was a terrible time on board some of our vessels; for the virulence of the plague seemed to know neither bounds nor limits, and the healthy part of the crews was engaged all day ministering to the sick, laying out the dead, or committing their bodies to the deep.

It was about this time that one beautiful morning--the sunshine glittering on the sea and casting a glamour over the greenery of hill and dale and woodland--our old friend the _Gurnet_ steamed into the Bay of Balchik, some distance north of Varna. Embarkation was here busily going on, amidst a scene of such confusion and bustle as no one on board the _Gurnet_ had ever before witnessed. The bay was covered with ships of every size and description--an immense forest of masts bearing flags of all kinds and colours, conspicuous among which were the British, French, and Turkish ensigns. In and out among the shipping plied the boats, with which the bay was so filled that scarcely could the water be seen. The noise and din were indescribable.

Well, if the embarkation of our troops was not conducted in so orderly a manner as one could wish to see, that of the French and Turks was confusion worse confounded.

Early that morning, before the _Gurnet_ got in, and ere yet the grey clouds of the dawning day had changed to purple and gold, Jack Mackenzie, whose watch it was, had gone to the first lieutenant's cabin to make a report.

"Three men, sir," he said, "are swimming about a quarter of a mile off our weather-bow."

"What do they look like?" asked Sturdy.

"I can't quite make out, sir. Perhaps they are the survivors from some boat that has been capsized."

"Very well, Jack; lower the first whaler."

"Can I go myself, sir?"

"Certainly. The quartermaster is on deck?"

"Yes."

The _Gurnet_ was hove to, and in a short time, rowed by its brawny crew, and steered by Jack himself, the whaler was bounding over the waves towards the men. Yes, men they had been; but now, horrible to relate, they were but hideous, grinning corpses. Buried they had been--that is, buried at sea, and hastily, too, with shot to sink them; but this had not been sufficient. It was a ghastly sight. The men lay on their oars for a time looking horrified. Silent, too, for a time, till one old sailor spoke out.

"Them's cholera corpses, sir. Hadn't we better put back?"

Jack had really been wondering whether it was not his duty to take them in tow, so that they might be properly buried. A cold shudder ran through him, however, when he learned the truth; and so the boat was put about and rowed swiftly back to the ship.

"I thought as much," said Sturdy, when Jack went below again to report. "Ah, lad! if the cholera has broken out among our troops and seamen, we'll be held in check by an enemy far more terrible than the Russians."

That evening Dr. Reikie and Jack went on shore to pay a visit to the camp of the Highlanders under the brave Sir Colin Campbell, who, years after this, became the hero of India during the awful mutiny. Everywhere they were met by troops on the march towards the hastily-constructed piers that our engineers had made to assist the embarkation. Slowly and sadly these troops marched; so weak and sickly did they appear, that scarce could they carry their knapsacks. It was but little wonder. The whole air had the odour of a charnel-house.

They found their way to the Highlanders' camp at last; and rushing out from his tent-door, the first to bid Jack welcome was his cousin Llewellyn. He had just come off duty, and had not had time to divest himself of his accoutrements.

"Duty," he said, smiling a little sadly; "why, Jack, it's all duty just at present. It is duty all day long and most of the night, and I'm never out of my war-paint. But perhaps our brave fellows have suffered as little as any from the scourge, though we have buried quite a number. At first, Jack, we used to play them to the grave with the 'Dead March,' you know. But la! lad, there is no music now.--Dr. Reikie, I have heard so much about you from Cousin Jack's letters that I appear to have known you all my life. But, bless me, boys, come under canvas. I and Lieutenant Murray are quartered here. Snug enough? Oh yes; we don't complain about anything but the delay in getting off. We want to fight. Oh, I feel sure when we get into grips with the Russians the cholera will be scared away."

"I hope so," said Reikie; "but I very much doubt it."

"Ah! well, don't frighten us, anyhow," said Llewellyn.

That bold young Highlander certainly did not look as if anything would frighten him. How handsome and strong he was, and how brave he seemed! I'm not at all sure that Jack did not envy him his superior stature--for he bordered on six feet. Perhaps Jack was boy enough yet to covet that feather bonnet, for he was barely seventeen.

But Llewellyn threw off his Highland bonnet, and ordered his servant to bustle about and get coffee ready.

It is no wonder that the conversation turned upon home. But at this stage of the happy meeting it hardly could be called a conversation; for Llewellyn had so much to say that in telling the news his tongue could scarcely rattle on fast enough. But the gist of what he said can, after all, be given in a few words:--

"Three years and over, Jack, since you were home. Never mind, lad; we've only got to smash the Russians, to raze to earth the battlements of Sebastopol, to annihilate the defenders, to hurl back the Bear to his icy den in the north, and, having covered ourselves with honour and glory, to return, as the good ships' parsons tell us, 'in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land with the fruits of our labours.'"

"Loot, eh?" said Dr. Reikie, quietly smiling; "and we have to thrash the Russians first?"

"Oh yes; that is part of the programme of this grand picnic."

"And mother and sister?" said Jack.

"Both happy and beautiful. And what think you, Jack? I went down to say good-bye, of course, before my regiment left, and Uncle Tom, who has all sorts of kindly messages to you, went with me, and your sister told me that she is coming out, if the war lasts over the autumn, to help to nurse the sick and wounded! A whole lot of ladies are coming, only I don't expect there will be any sick or wounded left to nurse by the time they think of coming out. Well, then, north I went to bonnie Drumglen, where my sister Tottie is at present, you know."

"My little sweetheart?"

"Yes: the old lady won't want her, and indeed we are all so happy to be friends again. As she gets older, Jack, she gets more forgiving and less severely aristocratic. Oh, she has a heart after all. She had tears in her eyes, Jack, when she bade me good-bye, loading me with tender messages to her own dear boy, as she still calls you."

"God bless her!"

"Yes, Jack, and Uncle Tom and I went to see the Malonies. Poor Peter is just the same, only he no longer plays on the street, for, through uncle's influence, he has adopted teaching music as a profession. The Malonies haven't altered a bit, and your old cat is still first favourite at the fireside. And Mrs. Malony told me tell you she prayed for you every morning and night of her life, and made Malony himself do the same under penalty of feeling the weight of the potato-masher in case of forgetting."

It was late that night before the doctor and Jack got back to the _Gurnet_; but nevertheless they found everything on board in an uproar, preparations being made to receive for passage a contingent of one of the regiments.

Storm and tempest delayed the sailing of the great armada for some time after it was quite ready. But at last it got to sea; and when once fairly away from the bay, and bearing up for the unknown land, then as Jack and Sturdy stood side by side on the quarter-deck, the brave lieutenant confessed that never in all his experience had he beheld so grand a spectacle.

The whole peninsula of the Crimea is hardly twice the size of Aberdeenshire or Yorks; and broadening out from the Isthmus of Perekop in the north, its whole length to Balaklava in the south (_vide_ map) is not more than 120 miles as the crow flies. The entire population of the Crimean peninsula at the time of the invasion is said to have numbered about 220,000. But looking at a map, although it gives one a good idea of the lie of the land and water, is not very instructive as far as the features of the country are concerned; so, just in a sentence or two, let me tell you what these are like. The northern and the middle portions, then, are a kind of barren prairie land or steppes, and but sparsely inhabited by Tartars, who dwell in tumble-down little villages, and tend their flocks and herds. Not so peacefully, however, as do our Highland shepherds. Those Tartars may be simple in their ways, but they are wild and uncouth in nature. But proceeding southward from Perekop, we come to a far more beautiful or bountiful land. Mountains shelter it from the storms of the north, and here are hills and glens and wide smiling valleys with woods of pine and oak, under the shelter of which, and on the sunny braes, grow olive trees, the pomegranate, and even sub-tropical fruits, while green grass waves plentiful in spring and summer, and wild flowers are everywhere.

The southern end of this peninsula is hilly and cliffy. It is indented on the west by the great harbour of Sebastopol, and on the south by that of Balaklava. The capital is Simferopol, lying away to the north and east of the virtual capital, Sebastopol.

It was on the north and west of the peninsula that the allied armies landed and commenced their memorable march upon the great Russian stronghold. In the map you will note the streams or rivers they had to cross. The first is the Bulganak, and is but a "drumlie" rivulet or burn. The hills that range here with valleys between are from 400 to 500 feet high.

Well, the Bulganak flows west, so does the Alma seven miles further on, and also the Katcha and Belbek, the latter being nearest to Sebastopol. But the Tchernaya, I wish you to observe, runs north and west, and falls into the head of the harbour of the great stronghold.

There is but one other point I wish to draw your attention to, and that is what is called the Upland between Sebastopol and Balaklava. The extreme western point is called Cape Kherson.

The distance from Varna to Sebastopol is about 300 miles, and had this city been made, in every sense of the word, a base of supplies, much of the suffering during the terrible winter of 1854-55 would have been spared our ill-starred soldiers.

The coast had been well reconnoitred by H.M.S. _Caradoc_ and _Agamemnon_, on board of which were not only Lord Raglan himself, the one-armed hero and commander of the British forces, but General Canrobert and Sir John Burgoyne.

At last the beach to the north of Bulganak was selected as a landing-place, owing to its position; being defended inland by two small lakes, so that the enemy, had they wished to attack, could only have done so by the narrow strip of beach betwixt these lakes and the sea.

The French and Turks were first got on shore on the fourteenth day of September; and they landed unopposed by the enemy, but not by the elements, for a heavy swell tumbled roaring in upon the beach, and the surf and breakers were so high that boats and rafts were dashed to pieces.

Had a terrible gale from the west come on, this allied fleet might have suffered as disastrous a fate as the Spanish Armada of olden times.

On the 15th the British landed.

How small in comparison with the forces and huge armies of the present day was the whole combined force! The Turks numbered but 7,000--they had sixty-eight guns, but no cavalry; the French were infantry, 28,000 in all; and we ourselves had but 26,000, added to which was that brave and splendid Light Brigade of cavalry 1,000 strong. Ah! we shall hear of them again.

The knapsacks of our brave fellows were left on board, for many were so low and ill that they could not have carried them. Nothing, indeed, was carried that could be dispensed with--not even tents, bar those for the sick and for the head officers. Blankets to cover them they had, and in these were wrapped up only the bare necessaries of life.

Nor was there any available transport landed save a few horses. The army, however, soon captured country carts from the Tartars to the number of about 400, and they drove in all the live stock that they could find.

But on the whole, instead of being prepared for a long and exhausting war, our soldiers stood on the beach hardly equipped for a review or picnic.

Providence probably fought on our side, else the Russians, who had a free hand and a very large force of cavalry, might have terribly harassed us and rendered our victories impossible. The whole army of the allies was, be it remembered, a "movable column." It had no base behind it to which it could send back its sick or wounded. These must be carried onwards day after day, or left to the tender mercies of a foe that, under the circumstances, one cannot marvel at being implacable. Moreover, a movable line of battle must hurry on to death or victory; for if it be harassed by the enemy's cavalry, and by guerilla bands of the peasantry, and people whose country is invaded, the limited supplies are soon exhausted, and there is nothing to fall back upon.

The march of the allied armies, then, onwards to Sebastopol, a distance of about twenty-five miles, was indeed a daring and adventuresome one. But the many hopes of the invading army lay in at once inflicting upon the Russians a defeat that should stagger and paralyze their whole force.

On the afternoon of the nineteenth of September, our forces in battle array reached the first of the streams, the Bulganak, and here, for sake of water, they bivouacked for the night.

It might have been said that the whole force slept upon their arms; for on the hills, at no great distance beyond them, the Russians were espied, apparently about 10,000 strong in all, and well supplied with horses and artillery.

But the night passed quietly by. The hour of battle had not yet arrived.