Chapter IV (3)

There was more than an acre of Russian wounded when they were brought and disposed on the ground. Some of the prisoners told us they belonged to the army of Moldavia, and had only arrived in the Crimea twelve or fourteen days before the battle. If that were so, the expedition might have achieved enormous results at little cost, had it arrived three weeks earlier. All the Russian firelocks, knapsacks, bayonets, cartridge-boxes, &c., were collected together, near Lord Raglan's tent, and formed heaps about twenty yards long by ten yards broad. Our men were sent to the sea, three miles distant, on jolting arabas or tedious litters. The French had well-appointed covered hospital vans, to hold ten or twelve men, drawn by mules, and their wounded were sent in much greater comfort than our poor fellows. The beach was lined with boats carrying off the wounded. Commander Powell, of the _Vesuvius_, as beachmaster was indefatigable in his exertions. Some poor fellows died on their way to the sea. Not only the wounded but the sick were sent on board the fleet. As a sanatorium alone, the value of the floating batteries of our friends the sailors was beyond all price. The Russian officers who were wounded, and all prisoners of rank, were likewise sent on board. We had 1,000 sick on board, in addition to our wounded. The French return of 1,400 killed and wounded was understood to include those who died of cholera during the passage from Varna and the march to the Alma.

Had a couple of thousand seamen and marines been landed, they could have done all that was required, have released us from two days' fearful duty, enabled us to follow the footsteps of our flying enemy, and to have completed his signal discomfiture, and have in all probability contributed materially to the issue of the campaign. Admiral Dundas, however, seemed to be in apprehension of the Russian fleet sallying out to attack us.

Brigadier-General Tylden died in his tent early on the morning of the 23rd, of cholera. He was buried in the valley under the heights of Alma. He was succeeded by Lieut.-Colonel Alexander, R.E., who was not, however, promoted to the rank of Brigadier. Many men died of cholera in the night. My sleep was disturbed by the groans of the dying, and on getting up in the morning I found that the corpse of a Russian lay outside the tent in which I had been permitted to rest. He was not there when we retired to rest, so that the wretched creature, who had probably been wandering about without food upon the hills ever since the battle, must have crawled down towards our fires, and there expired. Late at night on the 22nd orders were sent round the divisions to be prepared for marching after daybreak. Early on the 23rd we left the blood-stained heights of the Alma--a name that will be ever memorable in history. Soon after dawn the French assembled drums and trumpets on the top of the highest of the hills they carried, and a wild flourish and roll, repeated again and again, and broken by peals of rejoicing from the bugles of the infantry, celebrated their victory ere they departed in search of the enemy. It was spirit-stirring and thrilling music, and its effect, as it swelled through the early morning over the valley, can never be forgotten.

[Sidenote: LEFT ALONE WITH THE WOUNDED.]

Our watch-fires were still burning languidly, as the sleepers roused themselves, and prepared to leave the scene of their triumphs. The fogs of the night crept slowly up the hill sides, and hung in uncertain folds around their summits, revealing here and there the gathering columns of our regiments in dark patches on the declivities, or showing the deep black-looking squares of the French battalions, already in motion towards the south. Dimly seen in the distance, the fleet was moving along slowly by the line of the coast, the long lines of smoke trailing back on their wake. But what was that grey mass on the plain, which seemed settled down upon it almost without life or motion? Now and then, indeed, an arm might be seen waved aloft, or a man raised himself for a moment, looked around, and then fell down again. Alas! that plain was covered with the wounded Russians. Nearly sixty long hours they passed in agony upon the ground, and with but little hope of help or succour more, we were compelled to leave them. Their wounds had been bound and dressed.

Ere our troops marched, General Estcourt sent into the Tartar village up the valley, into which the inhabitants were just returning, and having procured the attendance of the head men, proceeded to explain that the wounded Russians would be confided to their charge, and that they were to feed and maintain them, and when they were well they were to be let go their ways. An English surgeon was left behind with these 750 men--Dr. Thomson, of the 44th Regiment. He was told his mission would be his protection in case the Cossacks came, and that he was to hoist a flag of truce should the enemy appear in sight; and then, provided with rum, biscuit, and salt meat, he was left with his charge, attended by a single servant. One of the Russian officers addressed the wounded, and explained the position in which they were placed; they promised to obey Dr. Thomson's orders, to protect him as far as they could, and to acquaint any Russian force which might arrive with the peculiar circumstances under which he was among them.

It was nearly eight o'clock ere the tents of head-quarters were struck, and the march began. We heard from the fleet that the enemy had not only left the Katcha, but that they had even retired across the Belbek. Our course was directed upon the former stream, almost in continuation of our march of the 20th, before the battle. As we moved along, the unfinished stone building, intended by the Russians for a telegraph station, came into view. The French had cut upon the entablature the simple inscription--_La Bataille d'Alma, 20 Septembre, 1854_. A similar building was visible further on towards Sebastopol; on reaching the top of one of the hills on our way, we could see the white lighthouse of Chersonesus at the end of the promontory which juts out into the sea. The country through which we marched was undulating and barren. Amidst steep hillocks covered with thistles, and separated from each other at times by small patches of steppe, or by more undulating and less hillocky ground, wound the road to Sebastopol--a mere beaten track, marked with cart-wheels, hoofs, and the nails of gun-carriage wheels. We advanced uninterruptedly at an average rate of two and a quarter miles an hour, halting occasionally to rest the troops, and allow the baggage-wagons to come up.

At three o'clock the beautiful valley of the Katcha came in sight, formed by a ridge of hills clad with verdure and with small forests of shrubs, through which here and there shone the white walls of villas and snug cottages. The country over which we marched slid down gradually to the level of the river, whose course was marked all along the base of the hills to the stream by lines of trees, and by the most luxurious vegetation, forming a strong contrast to the barren and bleak-looking tract on which our troops advanced. Lord Raglan and his staff rode on considerably in advance of the troops, to the great astonishment and indignation of a Prussian officer (Lieut. Wagman), who loudly declared such conduct was quite opposed to the rules of war. Fluellen himself could not have been more angry at such disregard of martial etiquette than the gallant gentleman in question, and certainly we did show marked contempt for the enemy, and the most superb disdain of his famed Cossacks. Lord Raglan, his aides, his generals of artillery and engineers and their staff, his quartermaster-general and his staff, his adjutant-general and his staff, Sir John Burgoyne and his staff, and all the staff-doctors, actually came within a few hundred yards of the shrubberies and plantations at the river, a mile in advance of even the cavalry, and were riding on towards it in the same _poco curante_ fashion, when Captain Chetwode and his troop of the 8th Hussars pushed on in the front to reconnoitre.

The Katcha is a small and rapid rivulet, with banks like those of the Alma; its course marked by neat white cottages, the most delicious vineyards and gardens, but no inhabitants were visible. Wheeling over the bridge, we turned eastward towards the little village of Eskel, on the left bank. The first building on the road was the Imperial Post-house, with its sign-post of the double-headed eagle, and an illegible inscription. The usual wooden direction-post, with a black and red riband painted round it diagonally on a white ground, informed us we were on our way to Sebastopol, distant ten miles. The road now assumed the character of an English by-way in Devonshire or Hampshire. Low walls at either side were surmounted by fruit trees laden with apples, pears, peaches and apricots, all ripe and fit for use, and at their foot clustered grapes of the most delicate flavour. The first villa we came to was the residence of a physician. It had been destroyed by the Cossacks. A verandah, laden with clematis, roses, and honeysuckle in front, was filled with broken music-stools, work-tables, and lounging chairs. All the glasses of the windows were smashed. Everything around betokened the hasty flight of the inmates. Two or three side-saddles were lying on the grass outside the hall-door; a parasol lay near them, close to a Tartar saddle and a huge whip. The wine casks were broken and the contents spilt; the barley and corn of the granary were thrown about all over the ground; broken china and glass of fine manufacture were scattered over the pavement outside the kitchen;--and amid all the desolation and ruin of the place, a cat sat blandly at the threshold, winking her eyes in the sunshine at the new comers.

Mirrors in fragments were lying on the floor; beds ripped open, the feathers littered the rooms a foot deep; chairs, sofas, fauteuils, bedsteads, bookcases, picture-frames, images of saints, women's needlework, chests of drawers, shoes, boots, books, bottles, physic jars, smashed or torn in pieces, lay in heaps in every room. The walls and doors were hacked with swords. The genius of destruction had been at work, and had revelled in mischief. The physician's account-book lay open on a broken table: he had been stopped in the very act of debiting a dose to some neighbour, and his entry remained unfinished. Beside his account-book lay a volume of "Madame de Sévigné's Letters" in French, and a Pharmacopoeia in Russian. A little bottle of prussic acid lay so invitingly near a box of bon-bons, that I knew it would be irresistible to the first hungry private who had a taste for almonds, and I accordingly poured out the contents to prevent the possible catastrophe. Our men and horses were soon revelling in grapes and corn; and we pushed on to Eskel, and established ourselves in a house which had belonged to a Russian officer of rank.

[Sidenote: NEW QUARTERS.]

Every house and villa in the place was in a similar state. The better the residence, the more complete the destruction. Grand pianos, and handsome pieces of furniture, covered with silk and damasked velvet, rent to pieces, were found in more than one house. One of the instruments retained enough of its vital organs to breathe out "God save the Queen" from its lacerated brass ribs, and it was made to do so accordingly, under the very eye of a rigid portrait of his Imperial Majesty the Czar, which hung on the wall above! These portraits of the autocrat were not uncommon in the houses--nearly as common as pictures of saints with gilt and silver glories around their heads. The houses, large and small, consisted of one story only. Each house stood apart, with a large patch of vineyard around it, and a garden of fruit trees, and was fenced in from the road by a stone wall and a line of poplars or elms. A porch covered with vines protected the entrance. The rooms were clean and scrupulously whitewashed. Large outhouses, with wine-presses, stables, &c., complete the farmer's establishment.

A deserter came in, and was taken before Lord Raglan. He was, however, only a Tartar, but he gave such information respecting the feelings of the inhabitants towards us, that steps were at once taken to inform those who were hiding that if they returned to their homes, their lives and property would be protected. Some hour or so after we had arrived at Eskel, a number of bullet-headed personages, with sheepskin caps, and loose long coats and trousers, made their appearance, stealthily creeping into the houses, and eyeing the new occupants with shy curiosity. From the people who thus returned we heard that the Russians had arrived at the Katcha in dispirited condition the night of the battle of the Alma, and had taken up their position in the villages and in the neighbouring houses. At twelve o'clock the same night they continued their march. A part of the army went towards Bakschiserai. They were said to consist of about 20,000, and to be under the command of Menschikoff in person. The rest proceeded direct to Sebastopol, and entered the city in disorder. The evidences of their march were found along the road, in cartridges, shakos, caps, and articles of worn-out clothing. In the house which we occupied were abundant traces of the recent visit of a military man of rank: books on strategy, in Russian, lay on the floor, and a pair of handsome epaulets were found in the passage.

Lord Raglan occupied a very pretty villa for the night, but most of the furniture had been destroyed by the Cossacks. Orders were given to prevent the soldiers destroying the vineyards or eating the fruit, but of course it was quite impossible to guard so extensive and tempting a region as the valley of the Katcha from thirsty and hungry men. There our soldiers fared on the richest of grapes and the choicest pears and apples; but they did not waste and spoil as the French did at Mamaschai, lower down the river.