CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
AGAINST OVERWHELMING ODDS.
Huge indeed was the Russian army which Phil and his outposts sawadvancing upon them through the mists of the valley. Thousands ofinfantrymen were in each of the thick columns, while far behind wereothers, resting on their arms and waiting in reserve. To attempt tokeep back such a force was ridiculous, but much could be done byresolute men to delay its march, and Phil decided to attempt this withthe handful at his command.
"The columns to right and left I must leave to themselves," he saidhurriedly. "In any case they will march on and overlap me. But thecentral column is the biggest and most important, and, therefore, I willconcentrate all my fire upon it. Pass the word along there for the mento close," he shouted. Then, turning to his sergeant, he said: "Hurryback to the camp at once and warn them that three Russian columns areadvancing. Say I will hold them in check as long as possible."
Saluting hurriedly, the sergeant turned and ran back towards thebarrier, leaving Phil and his handful of men face to face with theRussians.
Nothing daunted, and well knowing that much depended upon his exertions,for a long delay would enable the Second Division to get under arms andtake up good positions, Phil concentrated his men, and with a rapidorder formed them into line, the ends of which he swung backwards tillthey were in a semicircular formation.
"Now," he said, standing in front of them with rifle at the slope overhis shoulder, "about turn; retire ten yards, and when you are well inamong the bushes, lie down and wait for the order to fire."
Steadied by the example of coolness and determination shown them, theoutpost-party swung about and retired into a thick belt of scrub, which,with the aid of the dense morning mist and numerous boulders, completelyhid them. Each man at once threw himself upon the ground and waited,with rifle resting upon a stone.
Standing in their midst, Phil directed the greater part to pour theirvolleys into the central column, while a few files on the flanks engagedthose on either side. Tingling with excitement, and filled with doggeddetermination to harass the Russians to the last, the men levelled theirrifles and waited eagerly for the word.
And as they waited, the tramp of thousands of feet grew nearer and stillnearer, while the low and buzzing hiss of excitement, which Russiansoldiery indulge in when about to attack, seemed already to have passedbeyond them. Suddenly, however, a puff of wind blew the mist away inlong trailing flakes, and the central column appeared, marching at arapid pace, and already within thirty yards of the outpost. Almost atthe same moment the lateral columns came into sight, but separated by alittle wider interval.
"Fire!" cried Phil in a loud voice.
Instantly a rattling volley was poured into the dense masses of men, whocame to an abrupt halt, while confusion and alarm spread through theirranks. Then officers rushed to the front, sword in hand, and calledupon them to charge.
Flash! Another volley was poured into the struggling ranks, and menwere seen to drop on either side.
Bending down so that the scrub just concealed them, Phil and his menrapidly reloaded, and had emptied their rifles again before the mistfell once more and hid the enemy from sight.
"Load again," cried Phil. "Now, are you ready? Then follow me to theright. We will change our position before these fellows recoversufficiently to open fire."
Running through the dense growth of bushes, the outpost-party soon tookup a new position in front of one of the other columns, where, spreadingout so as to pour their volleys into all three columns, they waitedagain for the command to fire.
Meanwhile shouts and oaths came in a perfect storm from the Russians,and their hiss of excitement rose to deafening pitch.
Then the mist was suddenly rent asunder by a flash of flame which ranalong their front, and a hail of bullets was poured into the busheswhere Phil and his party had lain not a minute before, sending a showerof twigs and leaves pattering to the ground, and striking the boulderswith a series of sharp thuds, which told that but for the fortunatechange of position, the outpost-party would have been decimated.
"Now we'll give them another taste," said Phil aloud. "Then we'llretire some fifty yards and wait for them again."
The movement proved even more successful than he could have hoped, for,bewildered by the mist, and fearful that they had stumbled upon a strongforce of the Allies, the Russians still stood rooted to the spot, whilethe bullets tore remorselessly through their crowded ranks, doing awfulexecution at such close quarters. Standing in front of them, officerswaved their swords gallantly and called upon them to advance, but,stricken by the fire and in dread of the British bayonet, thegrey-coated host stood there doubtful and hesitating, and kept fromflying only by the press of men behind, unaware as yet of the troublewhich had befallen their comrades in advance.
"We'll play the same game again, my men," cried Phil coolly, as soon asthe retirement had been carried out. "Then we'll make for the barrierand rejoin our friends. The 80th is there by now, and will be ready tohelp us if we are in difficulties."
"What's that there, sir?" asked Tony suddenly, standing by his master'sside and pointing to the left. "That's a column of Russians, I reckon,and if we're to get back to friends alive we'd best be quick about it.See, they're already behind us."
Staring through the mist, Phil recognised with a start that the force ofRussians to the left, suffering less from the galling fire of theBritish outposts, had recovered their wits, and, advancing up thevalley, were tramping past him and already deploying between himself andthe "barrier."
"Get together, men," he cried hastily. "Now, in two lines, and bayonetsto the front! Keep your fire till at close quarters!"
Springing to their feet, the outpost-party hastily fell in, and,following Phil, who went some paces in front, retired at a ran, dartinground boulders and clumps of brushwood, and keeping as much under coveras possible. But though they retired rapidly, the Russian ranksdeployed even more quickly, and while those to the far left pushed ondirectly in their front, taking the course of a narrow ravine, othersspread towards the centre, hoping there to join hands with theircomrades.
And now an additional element of danger presented itself to Phil and hiscomrades. Behind them they had left the bulk of the enemy hesitatingand uncertain how to act, and pouring an aimless and useless fire intothe cover which had concealed those who had done them so great amischief. At first firing independently and wildly, they had soon takento well-ordered volleys, and, there being no answer to these and no moremissiles of death flying through their ranks, they took courage and,coaxed by their officers, advanced. Arrived at the brushwood cover,they found not a single British soldier. Only deep footprints in themud, and the litter of twigs brought down by their own bullets, could beseen, and recognising that they had been duped, they broke from a hissof excitement into a roar of fury, and, breaking from control, dashedforward over boulder and scrub towards the British lines.
"Hark! What is that?" said Phil, holding up his hand to arrest his men."What do those cries mean?"
"It's the Russians coming," answered Tony. "Listen: you can hear themtearing through the wood. Quick, or we'll be taken. Look, there aremen in front of us."
A hasty glance told Phil that Tony was speaking only the truth, for atthis moment a swarm of grey-coats could be seen between themselves andthe barrier, and one of these, turning round at the moment, caught sightof the British outposts, and with a shout attracted his comrades'attention.
"Get together, lads!" said Phil, with coolness and decision. "There,that will do. Now let me take my place on the right. Remember, keepyour fire till the muzzles almost touch their coats, and then pull thetriggers. Are you ready? Then charge!"
In a close and compact mass, and with bayonets well to the front, thelittle party dashed forward, and, directed by Phil, charged where theRussian ranks seemed thinnest. With eyes flashing, and courage rousedto the highest, the men behaved with a coolness and disregard of dangerwhich was magnificent.
Waiting till the whites of the Russians' eyeswere distinct, they poured in a terrible volley, and then threwthemselves upon the enemy with a shout. For five minutes a furiousmelee raged. Bayonets thrust the air wildly on every side, and deathseemed in store for Phil and his small command. Struck by bullets, orthrust through by the steel, some of his gallant men fell before aminute had passed, but, undismayed, and filled only with an enthusiasmand fury which made them forget all else, the remainder wielded theirweapons unceasingly, and, plunging ever forward, cut their way to theheart of the enemy, and then through its crowded ranks, until not aRussian lay between them and the barrier. Then turning fiercely theywaited only to cast off a few who still clung to them, and, dashing themto the ground, took to their heels, and within a minute were over thebarrier and lying full length upon the ground, panting and endeavouringto regain their breath ere the enemy were upon them.
As for Phil, he cast his rifle to the ground, and, seating himself upona boulder, waved his arms at the officers surrounding him, andendeavoured to tell them how vast was the force about to attack theBritish camp.
"There, sit still and say nothing," said the colonel who had spoken tohim on the previous evening. "Thanks to the timely warning you sent bythe sergeant, we are as prepared as it is possible to be, though ournumbers are dangerously small. Still, we are ready, and we must thankyou, Western, for delaying the enemy and so giving us time. Let me tellyou you have done a gallant and most useful service for the army. Now,I see you are better. Take a small nip from this flask. It will helpyou to pull round."
Phil did as he was directed, and just as the enemy reached the barrierhad recovered his breath and strength sufficiently to snatch up hisrifle again and join his company.
And now commenced a battle upon the fortunes of which depended the fateof the Allies. Here was an immense army marching in three columns upona ridge held only by a division scarcely 4000 strong. In rear of it laythe French, at present wholly unable to help or reinforce, for, thoughnot attacked, they sat in their trenches, menaced by Liprandi's largeforce from the Causeway heights, captured on "Balaclava" day. And ontheir left the roar of cannon from the fortress could already be heardas they thundered at the British, while behind the masonry thousands ofRussians were massed in preparation for a gigantic sortie upon theinvesting trenches.
No one could help that gallant 4000, for everywhere troops were urgentlyneeded against threatened attack. But lack of numbers was fullycompensated for by a courage which becomes even more remarkable as onethinks of it--courage sufficient to urge them to march over that crest,and, leaving their tents, amongst which cannon-shot were alreadyhurtling, to descend the slope and advance against an army of hugeproportions. Fortune favours the brave, indeed, for where can historyshow a brighter example? Eager for the fight, and reckless of theconsequences, the British troops descended the ridge and threwthemselves upon the enemy. The mist opened, and the Russians saw adouble line of red, and faces furious with excitement and lust ofbattle, charging upon them, but next moment the British ranks werehidden. A breath of wind to dispel the vapour would have turned thefortunes of the battle, and changed glorious victory for the Britishinto disastrous defeat. But there was no breeze, no puff of wind toclear the atmosphere, and, ignorant of the thinness of the opposinglines, and feeling sure that they were already face to face with thebulk of the allied army, the Russians came forward slowly and carefully.There was none of that dash and recklessness which would have broughtthem victory; instead, they paused, swayed this way and that, tornincessantly by volleys from rifles which, far superior to their own,caused ghastly slaughter in their ranks; and gave way whenever a companyof England's soldiers fell upon them.
Meanwhile what had happened at the barrier? Two hundred of the 30thFoot lay behind it, and alone met the central column with theirbayonets. Rushing at the low wall of stones, swarms of grey-coatedwarriors attempted to climb it, only to be hurled back from thebayonets. Time and again did they renew the assault, but always withthe same result. And all the while bullets pelted amongst them, so thatat length, despairing of surmounting the barrier, they turned to theleft and joined one of the lateral columns. All day long did thatgallant handful of the 80th cling to their position, and almostincessantly were they called upon to oppose other bodies of Russiantroops, who came to renew the combat. Worn out with their exertions,with blackened faces and blood-stained clothing, they threw themselvesupon the miry ground and slept the sleep of exhaustion till anotheralarm was given, when, shaking off their drowsiness by an effort ofwill, they sprang to their feet once more, and, grasping rifles, againflung themselves upon the enemy. Gallant souls indeed they were, butnot more brave and determined than their comrades upon that memorablebattle-field. Sweeping by them on the right one Russian column fellupon the flank of the British and hurled it aside by sheer weight ofnumbers. Then, advancing rapidly, they wheeled to the left, and werewithin an ace of taking the division in rear. But again fortunefavoured the British. Buller hurried up with reinforcements at thismoment, and, falling upon them with bull-dog ferocity, pushed them back,then rent them in pieces, and sent them hurrying away in disorder.
And on the British right events of no small moment were taking place.Pushing past the barrier, with the 200 of the 30th growling on theirflank, and constantly hurling volleys at them, an enormous column closedwith the soldiers in red and pressed them up and up the hill till thecrest and the sandbag battery were reached.
And now commenced a stage in the battle that is memorable, that standsout amongst all the glorious deeds of that splendid day as more gloriousthan all the rest. As if at school and struggling for the possession ofsome imaginary castle, British and Russians fought fiercely for thesandbag battery. A mere mound of earth, and having no guns, it was buta mark, a ridge upon the rolling crest, which attracted the eye. Foiledin their main attempt to force the enemy back and march on towardsBalaclava, the Russians forgot the object of the day, and those in theneighbourhood of the battery straggled furiously for its possession.Frantic with rage and disappointment, and with noble courage, theyhurled themselves upon it time and again, only to be as bravely met anddashed down the hill once more. Grim, bareheaded, and full of valourthe Guards clustered round that battery and disputed its ownership withthe Russians. Undaunted by the numbers advancing, time and again theyhurled them back, and then stood leaning upon their rifles, and betweentheir gasps for breath called to the Russians to come again, to mountthe slope and capture the position. And the grey-coated host glared upat them across a stretch of beautiful green turf now piled high withpoor lads who had fought their last fight. Yes, hundreds of fine menlay there, some barely more than boys, others in the prime of life,gaunt, raw-boned Russian linesmen, with ugly red streaks upon theirfaces, or big patches of like colour growing ever larger upon the greycloth of their uniforms. Amongst them, too, still clutching rifles, andsome even with hands clenched and tightly grasping their enemies, layfine stalwart Guardsmen, young men in the pride of youth and strength,and veterans. Death had called them away, and just as many an eye woulddim, and cheeks be moistened, in far-away Russian cabins for those nearand dear who had gone, so in good old England women and lasses wouldsoon be weeping for those gallant sons and brothers who had died for thecountry's good.
For long hours the conflict raged round the battery, but though theRussians were in far greater numbers than the British, the Guardsmenbudged not an inch; and when the day was done, stood victorious andproud owners of the position.
Meanwhile the orderly lines of the Second Division had been broken bysheer weight of numbers, and pushed back here and there; in other partsthey pressed forward with irresistible valour into the enemy's columns,and fought on in parties of two hundred, and often less--as few even astwenty,--with desperate courage and determination, and with a lust ofbattle and ferocity that was truly marvellous. Not once, but manytimes, these small groups flung themselves upon the enemy, and,thrusting and slashing on every side, cut their way
to the very centreof the mass of grey, pushed on with assailants surrounding them, and atlength passed to the other side, only to turn and bury themselves oncemore in the Russian ranks.
Late in the day, too, when the fate of the battle still hung in thebalance, more artillery arrived, and, engaging the batteries on GunHill, caused them to retire. Then slowly and grudgingly the Russianinfantry turned round and retreated in disorder to the heights ofInkermann, leaving an enormous number of killed and wounded behind them.
Oh for Scarlett's Heavy Brigade, or the remainder even of that glorious600 horse who had charged into "the gates of hell" on Balaclava day!One dash, one fierce charge amidst those retreating soldiers, and defeatwould have been a rout, a decisive victory, which even at this datemight well have led to the surrender of the fortress and the humbling ofRussian pride.
But no horse were there, and the retreating forces of the Czar reachedtheir bivouacs sullen and dispirited at their crushing defeat, butwithout suffering further injury save from the shell and plunging shotas the British guns opened upon the flying mass.
But that deep valley and the slopes leading to the ridge were piled withdead and wounded innumerable, for both sides had lost heavily, theRussian casualties amounting to many thousands.
Phil took his full share in the battle, while Tony hovered like aguardian angel near him, many a time turning aside a flashing bayonetmeant for his friend.
One thrust, indeed, got home, the bayonet transfixing Phil's thigh andbringing him to the ground.
With a roar Tony was upon the man and had knocked him senseless with atremendous blow on the head from the stock of his rifle. Then, liftingPhil, he carried him into a safer position behind the barrier of stones.
"It's nothing," exclaimed Phil, with a smile. "Slit up my trousers andjust tie your handkerchief round. That's it. Now I think I shall beall right. The pain made me feel a little faint."
Taking a pull at his flask, which contained weak brandy and water, hewas soon on his feet again, and had taken his place in thefighting-line. When all was over, Tony helped him back to his tent, andfetched the regimental doctor, who bandaged the wound.
"It's a simple flesh wound," the latter said encouragingly, "and, if yourest a little, will give you no trouble beyond a little stiffness. Thedifficulty is to get you young fellows to sit still for a moment. Butyou must rest, and as there happens to be a convoy going to Balaclava inan hour's time I'll send you with it and have you put on one of theships."
"I'd rather stay here and get well," said Phil eagerly. "After all,it's only a scratch, and will be right in a week."
"Now, I'm treating you, my boy," the doctor exclaimed shortly, "and foryour own good I shall send you on board ship, so there is an end of thematter."
Phil resigned himself to what he thought was a hard fate, for he wasanxious to stay with his regiment. But no doubt rest for a few days wasrequired, and the doctor was right in insisting upon it.
"Pack up my things, Tony, and we'll see whether I cannot get a lift inan araba," he said. "The convoy is to start from the crest, so youmight slip up and see what can be done."
Tony did as he was told, and was able to secure a place for his master.Phil was then carried to the top of the hill, and, being lifted into thecart, was driven off. The convoy reached Balaclava at dawn, and Phil,with Tony in attendance, and some fifty other wounded men was sent onboard a small schooner, which at once weighed anchor, and sailed out ofthe harbour.
"Nasty place that," said the captain, a rough-faced, genial old sea-dog,jerking his thumb towards the harbour. "Safe as a house so long as thewind's off shore; but once it begins to blow the other way, God helpthose aboard ship. There'll be only bare rocky cliffs to welcome themif the vessels go ashore, and how could they help doing that, for theanchorage is notoriously unsafe? Can't imagine why they stick there!There's many a safer harbour hereabouts."
The captain looked anxiously at the fine transports swinging to theircables, and then muttering "Thank heavens I shall be at sea and have abetter chance than they!" nodded to Phil and dived below.
He was a knowing man, this sailor, and, being accustomed to the BlackSea, was well aware that the season for violent gales and storms of rainand snow had now arrived. That night indeed, and all the following day,it blew so fiercely that the vessel's bowsprit carried away, and she wasobliged to put back into Balaclava for repairs. A few days later sheonce more set sail.
"Don't like the look of things," muttered the captain, looking roundanxiously as they sailed from the mouth of the harbour. "If it comes onto blow on-shore to-night it'll be bad for them ships in there. But itisn't my affair. The chap as is in command has been warned more thanonce already."
"Do you think we are going to catch it again?" asked Phil.
"Can't say for certain, but it looks precious like it; I wonder what theglass is doing?" and with an anxious expression the captain went toconsult his barometer.
"Falling fast," he said shortly, "and it's getting much colder. We'rein for a dusting, I think. Mr King, get those sails taken off her, andmake all taut. I'll go my rounds in half an hour and see how thingsare." He crossed the deck and fell into earnest conversation with hismate, leaving Phil to make his way aft and talk matters over with Tony.
The captain's fears were not unfounded. That evening, November 14th, agale of wind sprang up, blowing dead on-shore, and soon a terrific stormwas raging. With her head jammed close up into it, the _Columbine_seemed to make fair progress; but soon darkness had obscured the cliffs,and there was nothing by which to judge their position.
"We're far closer to those cliffs than I like," Phil shouted in Tony'sear. "Still, we seem to be getting well out to sea, and if only we canmanage that we ought to be safe."
"I'd rather be fighting the whole Russian army than knocking abouthere," Tony roared back. "'Tain't that only neither. This sea puts achap off his grub, and we ain't had such a lot of late as to let usafford it. Look what a rat I'm getting;" and with a comical air ofdespair he clutched the tunic he wore, to show that it was too large forhim.
An hour passed, and it was very evident that the fury of the stormincreased rather than diminished. Phil struggled on to the poop andfound his way to the captain's side.
"We're in the hands of Providence, I reckon," cried the old sailorreverently. "Every foot we make we lose to leeward, and away over inthat direction are the cliffs. We're running a trifle more along thecoast now, for there's not a ship that's built that could face thisgale. God help us, young man! We can do nothing more for ourselves."
Three hours later a tremendous sea struck the ill-fated ship and smashedher rudder to pieces. Instantly she commenced to broach to.
"Get a grip of something to hold you up," shouted the captain. "That'llfinish her. Good-bye, lad!"
Phil grasped his hand for the moment and looked into his face. Itshowed more clearly than a book could how desperate the situation was.
Leaving him, he crawled along to Tony.
"Get hold of a rope, old man," he screamed in his ear. "She's goingfast towards the rocks."
Whipping out their knives, they soon obtained two long pieces of stoutcordage. With these they tied two of the large wooden gratings at thehatchway together, and obtaining some more rope, secured themselves tothe woodwork, so that if the ship went down the hatchings would floataway and support them.
Meanwhile huge billows of green water poured on board, thumping the shiptill every timber quivered. Then one immense wave curled right over herand smashed her decks like an egg-shell. Immediately all was confusion.Shouts occasionally reached Phil's ear, and he once caught sight of thegrey-headed old captain kneeling in prayer. A moment later another waveturned the unfortunate _Columbine_ completely over, and, filling atonce, she sank like a stone.
Phil felt as though he was being smothered. The din of rushing waterrang in his ears, and intense darkness surrounded him. He fought andkicked madly. Then something struck him sharply
on the head, and hegrasped the grating to which he was tied, and with an effort draggedhimself upon it. Close alongside was the other grating, and upon it,clinging with all his might, was Tony. And thus, side by side, one nowdancing on the summit of a wave, while the other hung in the trough,drenched with water of icy coldness and almost smothered by the surf andrain, they drifted fast towards those inhospitable black cliffs againstwhich the tempest thundered.
A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War Page 17
