by Kate Eastham
‘What! But I can’t ride. I’ve never ridden a horse in my life.’
Mrs Seacole laughed, seeing Ada thunderstruck. ‘Well, this is your chance. What’s wrong with you, girl? I’m not asking you to ride to the very gates of Hell.’ Then, thinking about what she had just said, she shrugged and muttered, ‘Then again … Anyway, there’s no need to worry, Sally’s pony is as tame as a lamb and I will take you on the lead rein.’
She mounted her own horse, showing Ada what to do, and once Ada was sitting astride the pony she thought to herself that the animal seemed, so far, to be very accommodating. Mrs Seacole turned in her saddle to instruct Ada to hold on to the pommel, and they were off. Ada lurched to the side but managed to right herself, clinging to the saddle as they creaked along. When they broke into a trot she grabbed tighter as she bumped up and down, up and down, behind Mrs Seacole. This would have been terrifying at the best of times, but in the middle of a war it seemed like unbelievable madness.
She had to admire Mrs Seacole though, off in front with her medical kit. There really was no stopping the woman. As they rode along, Ada kept her eyes steadily on Mrs Seacole’s back and tried to keep her balance as the old saddle moved and creaked beneath her in time with the movement of the pony.
They travelled through a rocky valley that was strewn with cannonballs and the bones of some large creatures, probably horses. Mrs Seacole twisted round and shouted, ‘This is the Valley of Death where the Charge of the Light Brigade took place. A famous English poet called Mr Tennyson wrote a poem about it.’ Then she started reciting: ‘ “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of Death rode the six hundred. ‘Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!’ he said: into the valley of Death rode the six hundred.” ’
Ada was pleased to have some distraction as they moved through this desolate place, although the words gave her a shiver right down her spine and made her hold on to the saddle even more tightly as she bobbed along behind.
As they came out of the valley they started to hear the sound of gunfire in the distance. This grew stronger and stronger as they moved closer to Sevastopol. Ada was surprised to see a group of well-dressed men and women up on the heights overlooking the city, sitting on horseback with telescopes.
Mrs Seacole turned to tell her that some rich people thought it useful to come out on a trip to view the war. ‘They are looking for battles or skirmishes and hoping to see some action,’ she said simply.
Ada couldn’t tell if Mrs Seacole approved or disapproved but she felt herself that this kind of practice was abominable. What if one of those fancy ladies with a telescope was watching a soldier, somebody’s son or brother, someone like Billy or Frank, being shot or blown to bits by shell fire? There could be nothing right about this and she half wished that a stray mortar would fall in their direction.
As they left these visitors behind and came closer to the trenches, Mrs Seacole instructed Ada to dismount. ‘We’ll leave the horses here,’ she said. ‘They’re easily spooked by the noise of guns or the smell of blood.’ Ada felt her stomach lurch as the reality of where she was heading hit home.
Mrs Seacole handed her a bag of medical supplies which she slung across her shoulder and then, just as they were trying to find their bearings and make sure that they were heading in the right direction, they heard the sound of a horse and cart behind them.
They both looked round, and Ada was shocked to see that it was John Lampeter. What the hell was he doing here? And not only that, he had come out here with the little dog. He was jumping down from the wagon with it in his arms. What the …?
‘Good morning, Dr Lampeter, come to join us on our sortie into the trenches?’
‘I have indeed,’ said Lampeter, looking past Mrs Seacole towards Ada.
‘And you’ve brought your little friend as well,’ she said. ‘Not sure that’s entirely a good idea, but we’ll have to get moving and we can’t leave him here.’
As she spoke, Lampeter put the dog down and it scampered over to Ada, wagging its tail.
‘Well, I was just coming back to the hotel to see if you needed anything,’ said Lampeter, still looking at Ada, ‘and Sally told me that you’d gone out to the trenches, so I thought I’d come along and see if I could help out.’
‘Right, let’s get on,’ said Mrs Seacole, turning and leading the way.
When the party reached the British line they found a stretch of trench that appeared deserted. But as they got up closer they could see the dead bodies of many soldiers in their ragged red tunics lying in the trench. They continued to step over bodies, some with heads blown off, others sitting back against the walls of the trench with their arms flung wide almost in a gesture of surprise.
Suddenly they heard the shriek of a big shell and, as it dropped close by, the earth shook and dust and grit flew everywhere. By this time they were all in the bottom of the trench covering their heads with their arms. Ada could feel her heart racing and smell gunpowder. Strangely, she did not feel afraid.
‘Where’s Bob!’ she shouted.
‘It’s all right, he’s here with me,’ replied Lampeter.
‘All all right?’ said Mrs Seacole, standing up after the dust had settled.
‘Yes,’ said Ada and Lampeter at the same time.
The trench further up was full of thick smoke, and they could hear men shouting. Coming closer they saw two soldiers slumped against the wall. Lampeter went straight to examine one while Mrs Seacole saw to the other, but there was nothing they could do for either of them. There was more shouting and screaming and as they moved along, keeping as close to the ground as they could, Ada saw the dog prick up his ears and put his nose to the ground. That’s strange, she thought, I wonder if he’s got the scent of something.
There was more smoke ahead and more yelling, and they stopped to make sure it was safe to proceed. Bob was keen to keep going and struggled against Lampeter as he held him. ‘He must be spooked by the noise,’ he said.
Then it was time to move again and Lampeter put the dog down. He shot off, running like fury.
As they came to a bend in the trench they could hear the little dog barking and barking. ‘He must have found something,’ said Mrs Seacole.
Ada started to feel a lump in her throat and her heart was racing. She had heard Bob making that noise before and she had an idea why he was making it again. As they rounded the corner into the next section, they saw the dog beside a soldier lying on the floor of the trench, barking as if his life depended on it. All three rushed forward and as Ada got closer she could see what she had feared: a brown tunic. She felt her heart lurch. She had been right: the dog had found Billy, and he didn’t look in good shape at all.
‘It’s the lad from the hospital,’ said Lampeter, rushing to the boy. ‘I fixed his arm – do you remember, Ada?’ Then, seeing her face, he knew that she did. ‘He’s still alive. I can see that he’s breathing.’ But opening up his shirt he saw the extent of his injuries and turned to Ada with a look on his face that told her all she needed to know.
‘It’s the lung,’ said Mrs Seacole. ‘See here, Ada, two holes in the chest.’
Ada knew exactly what that meant for Billy; he was surely one of those with ‘no hope of survival’, one of those that would have been left outside the hospital tent. She sank to her knees and cradled the dog in her arms. He had stopped barking now that they were there with Billy, but he kept trying to go over to lick his face.
‘We can give him some laudanum,’ said Mrs Seacole. ‘That’s all we can do.’
Ada nodded. She fully understood the situation and sat there motionless as Lampeter administered the drops. Then Mrs Seacole held a hand out to her.
‘Come on, Ada, come closer, come and sit with him. It won’t be long now.’
Ada put the dog down and did as she was told.
As she sat down next to Billy he opened his eyes and tried to smile at her. Always so good-natured, thought Ada, even when he’s dying. He is dying.
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‘You stay with him, Ada,’ said Mrs Seacole, ‘while me and Dr Lampeter go further up the trench to see if we can find any more casualties. Can you do that?’
‘Yes I can,’ said Ada. ‘Of course I can.’
So Ada and the little dog stayed with Billy as he lay dying in the bottom of the trench, covered in soil. He didn’t open his eyes again but he did try to speak, though Ada couldn’t tell what he was saying. She sat there holding his hand as he quietly slipped away. She could hear his chest bubbling and just before the end he gave a small cough and a gobbet of blood came out of his mouth. Then he was gone, as easy as that.
When Mrs Seacole and Lampeter came back they found Ada sitting there, the little dog lying next to the still warm body and Billy’s dusty face stained with Ada’s tears.
‘Come on now, Ada,’ said Mrs Seacole. ‘We have to get going. There’s nothing more we can do here today.’
‘What about Billy? We can’t leave him here.’
‘He’s gone, Ada; you did all you could. You gave him comfort when he needed it most. But there’s nothing more we can do for him now.’
‘But we need to take him with us, give him a decent burial,’ pleaded Ada, her face wild with grief.
‘We can’t do that,’ said Lampeter firmly. ‘You know that. The body needs to stay here.’
‘What do you know?’ said Ada, almost snarling at him. ‘We can’t leave him here – it’s not decent!’
Mrs Seacole took her hand and said to her gently, ‘Look around, Ada, look down the trench: how many bodies do you see?’
‘Lots. I can see lots.’
‘We can’t take just this one and leave the rest now, can we? This is where the lad has fallen, next to his comrades, and it’s right and proper that we leave him here.’
Ada knew she was right. Reluctantly she nodded, stood up and started to walk back down the trench, her head hanging low. Mrs Seacole and Lampeter exchanged a glance and then Lampeter shouted to the little dog, who was still lying next to Billy’s body. He didn’t move at first but when Lampeter shouted again more insistently he came straight to him.
‘I’ll take Ada back with me,’ said Mrs Seacole to Lampeter, glancing with concern at the girl as she walked in some kind of trance. ‘There’s nothing more that I or Ada can do here unfortunately, but you might want to stay on for a while with the dog – he seems to have a knack for finding wounded soldiers.’
Mrs Seacole wasn’t sure that the doctor had taken in what she had said. He was staring at Ada, but then he said, ‘Yes, yes, of course. But you make sure that you get Ada back to the British Hotel. She had a special bond with that young lad in the trench and she’s still learning how to manage these things. You know how it goes.’
‘I do, I do,’ said Mrs Seacole quietly. ‘Some just get to you more than the others and each one of us has to learn how to manage in our own way.’
22
‘I saw Mary Seacole … at the fall of Sevastopol, laden not with plunder, good old soul, but with wine, bandages and food for the wounded or the prisoners.’
William Howard Russell, The Times
They were up early the next morning at the British Hotel; no one could have slept with the noise of those big guns – they were almost shaken out of their beds. Ada had fallen exhausted on to one of the couches and Sally had covered her with a blanket. She had slept all night and when she woke she felt empty inside. She knew that she needed to keep going: the war wasn’t over yet; she had to find the strength from somewhere, so she made herself get up and help Sally with the morning duties.
‘You all right?’ asked Mrs Seacole.
‘I’m fine,’ said Ada with the sound of her own voice echoing in her empty head.
‘That’s good. We need to get going again, this time up to Sevastopol. There are no soldiers at the door and as far as I’m aware that can only mean one thing. The big push is on, and they will break the siege at Sevastopol today.’
It seemed strange to close the door on a completely empty British Hotel but the guns were still pounding and all Hell seemed to have broken loose in the world. Mrs Seacole had hitched some mules to a wagon and had packed up food, wine and medical supplies, and now they were heading towards the noise of the guns, Ada in the back, helping to secure the boxes and keeping a look-out behind, Mrs Seacole and Sally up front.
Ada was glad to be on her own in the back. She didn’t feel that she could make conversation. Her mind was blank and her body felt numb after what had happened yesterday. She didn’t feel afraid; she didn’t really care.
Mrs Seacole was giving the impression that she knew exactly where to go and what they should be doing, but Ada understood the situation in Crimea well enough by now to know that no one knew; most of it was guesswork. Certainly they had not received any order or instruction from the military. Despite this, they were going to Sevastopol and not even the big guns and the shells shaking the ground would stop them.
As they rocked and lurched along the pot-holed road, Ada listened to the gentle murmur of conversation between Sally and Mrs Seacole. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear properly because all she needed was something that might help her feel right, and for some reason that murmur of voices was helping her mind to start functioning again. She began to think about the hospital and how busy Sister Roberts and Rose would be preparing for a wave of new casualties. She knew that, in due course, one of the doctors would be sent up to the front line. She wondered, but then knew instantly, which one would go. Of course it would be Lampeter.
Suddenly the noise of the guns stopped.
Mrs Seacole halted the mules and looked round to check on Ada. ‘I don’t know what that means, but it could be that the Russians have retreated and the city has fallen,’ she said, a smile spreading across her face. ‘If the city has fallen,’ she continued, ‘I want to be the first woman in there.’
With that Mary Seacole urged the mules forward.
Rocking around in the back of the wagon, Ada didn’t know what they would find. All she could do was sit tight and watch the rugged road disappear beneath them as they moved away from relative safety towards Sevastopol. After a while, the wagon stopped again and Sally turned round to her. ‘We are on Cathcart’s Hill now, Ada. You can see the city from here.’
Ada stood up on the back of the wagon and faced front. There was no city to see, only smoke. She had never seen so much thick, grey smoke pouring up to the sky. The city was burning below them. Mrs Seacole sat, speechless for once, then said to them quietly, ‘Only the other night I was up here and I saw the city so calm and sleeping beneath the stars. The beautiful white city.’
There were others around them now, officers and civilians, watching and waiting. ‘The city is about to fall,’ they said.
‘We need to get in there and help any soldiers that we can find. British, French, Turkish or Russian, we will help,’ said Mrs Seacole.
‘You can’t go yet,’ said one of the officers. ‘There’s too much smoke and we have heard that the Russians have left the city booby-trapped with mines.’
Almost on cue, they heard a loud explosion.
Ada was relieved that Mrs Seacole was taking this advice on board, at least for the time being. Of course they couldn’t head into the city just yet. Mrs Seacole opened up some of the provisions and they sat and watched, looking down on the city like the tourists on the hill that had so infuriated Ada on her first trip out towards Sevastopol.
In fact they were forced to sit and watch throughout the whole of that day and into the night. They saw fire after fire break out in the city and a great ship alight in the harbour casting a beautiful but terrible light all through the long night. They slept in the back of the wagon when they could, thankful of the good supply of blankets that they had brought.
The next morning was cold, much colder than the previous day, as if the events of the war had caused a sudden change in the early autumn weather. Fires still burned and cannon sounded all morning as the besiege
d city’s defences were bombarded. Then around midday the big guns quietened and they could see a surge of troops moving towards the city.
‘We can get going now; the Russians have withdrawn from the city,’ said Mrs Seacole, urging the girls forward.
Ada’s mind seemed to be fully alive again and she was terrified of leaving their place of safety. With her heart racing, she settled in the back of the wagon next to Sally. Mrs Seacole wanted to sit up front alone to reduce the risk of a stray shell catching the younger girls, but also, they thought, so that she could lay better claim to being the first woman into Sevastopol.
They were stopped many times by sentries, who tried to persuade them not to go on, but Mrs Seacole was having none of it.
They got down from the wagon a number of times to treat casualties – a man with wounded hands and an officer with a throat injury – all the time stray shells falling around them. One fell so close that they all threw themselves down to the ground and waited until they could hear conversation and laughter around them before they got up. Mrs Seacole found a piece of the stray shell and put it in the wagon.
‘A souvenir,’ she said, seeing Ada’s puzzled look.
This time, when they were all back in the wagon, they were able to pass through the last line of sentries. Ada could tell that if the men hadn’t known Mrs Seacole so well she would not have been allowed to pass.
And so they proceeded into the fallen city. There were men lying dead in the streets, buildings were blown open, fire and smoke everywhere, but somehow some of the beauty of the place still remained.
They stopped many times as they progressed along the street to give provisions to the soldiers. A sudden explosion sounded down the street as a mine went up and they saw a man fall. Mrs Seacole raced to him but the man was dead, almost blown apart. Then, even before the dust settled, a British soldier appeared before them, staggering and drunk, wearing a woman’s dress and bonnet. He lurched over to Ada and tried to grab her but she was quick enough to dodge out of the way. Then Mrs Seacole and Sally were called further down the street to attend another casualty, and Ada was suddenly alone, lost in the dust and needing to escape those soldiers, shamefully drunk and looting what they could from the houses of Sevastopol.
