1841.
Syria—Landing at Caiffa; Mount Carmel—Cave of Elijah; epidemic—Colour-sergeant Black—Inspection at Beirout by the Seraskier; return of the detachment to England—Expedition to the Niger—Model farm—Gori—Fever sets in; return of the expedition—Services of the sappers attached to it—Corporal Edmonds and the elephant—and the Princess—Staff-sergeant’s undress—Staff appointments—Wreck of the ‘Royal George’—Sergeant March—Sapper-divers—Curiosities—Under-water pay; means used to aid the divers—Speaking under water—Gallantry of private Skelton—Alarming accidents—Constitutional unfitness for diving—Boundary survey in the state of Maine—Augmentation to corps for Bermuda—Sandhurst; corporal Carlin’s services—Quartermaster-sergeant Fraser—Intrepidity of private Entwistle—Colonel Pasley—Efficiency of the corps—Its conduct, and impolicy of reducing its establishment—Sir John Jones’s opinion of the sappers—And also the Rev. G. R. Gleig’s.
A portion of the detachment in Syria was removed from Acre to Jaffa on the 11th January. About this time, lance-corporal Hugh Smith[[384]] accompanied Lieutenant Aldrich to Medjel. From the 23rd February to the 12th April, three of the party from Acre assisted Lieutenants Aldrich and Symonds in the survey of Jerusalem and Sidon, halting on the route at Jericho, Nablous, and Safed. Sergeant Black was left in charge of the restorations at Acre; but owing to the plague which had been so fatal to the royal marines, he was soon after removed with the remainder of the detachment to Jaffa, in the defensive occupation of which he and his men were engaged for about six weeks. The party then returned to Beirout, and was occupied in various contingent services; such as repairing the billets provided for the troops by the Ottoman government. Here the three men rejoined from Jerusalem and Sidon. All the party was subjected to much inconvenience from the want of those essentials in barrack furniture which formed no part of the inventory of a Turkish soldier’s accommodation; and, to supply the deficiency, the carpenters of the detachment made some tables, forms, and other indispensable utensils.
On the 23rd April twelve of the sappers sailed in the ‘Phœnix’ for Caiffa, and in disembarking, under rain, the boat was swamped in a heavy surf. The men made the shore as best they could, but lost most of the public stores and their baggage. Before sunset they were tented on the beach, and, in a few days, the encampment was removed under Mount Carmel,[[385]] there to await the cessation of the plague, and afterwards to repair again to Acre to strengthen the defences. It was at first intended to take up a station near the convent on the mount, but that quarter was found to be in quarantine, on account of the plague being at Caiffa, only a few hundred yards off. No resource was left but to seek shelter under canvas, which, in a country subject to endemics, was very inimical to health; and that, combined with the circumstance of the party being detached without a medical officer, might have added one more calamity to the fatal incidents of the campaign. A quarantine cordon was therefore formed around the encampment, and every means adopted to prevent fever, from contiguity or local miasma, appearing in the tents.
The sappers now took their meals in the sacred cave of Elijah—a cool but ill-ventilated retreat. The water at the camp was deleterious to health; but, after the 21st June, mountain spring-water, obtained three miles away, was brought for their use. In a country subject to plague and fever, a European holds his life by a precarious tenure: the detachment felt this, but bore up well, notwithstanding the absence of a medical officer. Dr. Zorab, a Turkish practitioner, made one or two professional visits to the party, and then Mr. Robertson, Deputy Inspector-General, voluntarily joined the camp from Beirout. Three weeks afterwards, he was relieved by Assistant-Surgeon Acton, R.N., who had scarcely commenced his duties when the fever attacked the party. The two men employed outside the cordon were the first seized with the malady, and every man of the party was soon under treatment. In most of the cases the seizure was highly dangerous, and in forty-eight hours the strongest man was completely prostrate. It was not until the shelter of a building for the sufferers could be obtained that the skill of Dr. Acton was of any avail. Four of the men died, and the remainder were conveyed in the ‘Stromboli,’ on the 10th July, to Beirout. Two more were invalided to England, and the other six only regained convalescence after a long period of illness.
Constantly moving along the coast, embarking and disembarking the stores, made the duties of the detachment laborious; and both colour-sergeant William Black[[386]] and second-corporal Henry Brown[[387]] were promoted, in consequence of the efficient manner in which they executed those services, and for their zeal before the enemy. At one time, the engineer park in charge of the former consisted of 100,000 sand-bags with a proportional quantity of field implements and tools, and was never less than 72,000 sand-bags. He also issued commissariat stores to the whole camp.
At Beirout the party was occasionally employed on the works, and furnished a guard for the station, in concert with the royal artillery. On the 1st December, the Seraskier, Selim Pacha, and Colonel Rose, commanding the expedition, inspected the detachment, and expressed themselves in a flattering manner relative to their services in the country. The latter, in orders, added his assurance that he entertained the highest sense of their zeal and efficient services on all occasions; and the Sultan awarded to each a medal in commemoration of the campaign.[[388]] From the inspection parade of the Seraskier, the detachment, reduced from twenty-two to fourteen men, embarked on board the ‘Thunderer,’ and landed at Malta on the 27th December, where they passed two months in the Forts of Manoel and St. Elmo, and landed at Woolwich from the ‘Gorgon’ steamer on the 23rd March, 1842.
On the 20th February, one corporal and seven privates embarked with the expedition under the command of Captain Trotter, R.N., to the Niger. Its object was to explore the source of the river, to introduce civilisation into Africa, and to prevail on the chiefs to extinguish slavery. The sappers were divided into two sections: one was added to the crew of the ‘Albert’ steamer, and the other to the ‘Wilberforce.’ They had been specially taught at Chatham the mode of blasting rock under water, with a view to removing obstructions in the navigation of the streams of the Niger yet unsurveyed. Five were men of excellent character, but three were not irreproachable in point of sobriety. The royal warrant sanctioning the formation of this special detachment is dated 7th December, 1840, and the corps was thereby increased from 1200 to 1208 of all ranks. The party was armed with rifles and bayonet-swords.
Late in June the expedition reached Freetown, and, steaming along the coast, crossed the mouth of the Niger on the 13th August. After passing the Bight of Benin, the steamers anchored off Ibu on the 26th; and the king, Obi, with the heir-apparent, Chikuna, and a vast retinue, visited the ‘Albert.’
On the 2nd September the expedition was off Iddah. To the king, or Attàh of Egarrah, a visit was paid by Captain Trotter. The sappers and seamen formed the guard of honour. Corporal Edmonds commanded, and he and all the men were grotesquely habited and decorated, to suit the barbaric taste of his majesty.
Near the confluence of the rivers Niger and Tchadda were landed the wooden houses to form the model farm on Mount Stirling, purchased from the King of Egarrah for 700,000 cowries. The Kroomen and seamen were the labourers in this service, and the sappers superintended the construction of the farm and the erection of the magnificent tent used in the Eglintoun tournament. The manipulation of the houses was prepared in England, leaving nothing to do but to put the materials together. To do this effectually, some trivial details in wood and iron were made on the spot by the sappers. Private John Craig surveyed the island and accomplished his work with quickness and credit. The duties of the farm were greatly interrupted by the intolerable heat, and numbers seized by the fever were sent away in the ‘Wilberforce’ and the ‘Soudan.’ The whole of the model arrangements were at length concluded, and on the 21st September the ‘Albert’ got under weigh again. The sappers were then healthy.
Passing Mugah, the ‘Albert’ anchored off Gori on the 22nd, and Captain Trotter paid a visit to the chief. Corporal Edmonds was with the party. The chief and his officers were seated on mats in the court-yard—a space measuring about twelve feet by eight, formed by five ovally-shaped huts. He was an old man, and his counsellor answered the questions put to his majesty in a reserved and evasive manner. The streets of Gori were very narrow, crooked, and puzzling, and in many places not wide enough to allow two persons to pass each other.[other.] To make way, Captain Trotter would suddenly open his umbrella, and the natives, surprised at the novelty, would scamper off alarmed.
Continuing the ascent, the ‘Albert’ passed Bezzani, Kinami, and Egga, and by the 5th of October, the sick had so greatly increased, that the charge of the ship fell on one of the mates. The expedition now turned for the sea, and passing the confluence on the 9th, steamed down the river in its more navigable channels, and landed at Fernando Po on the 18th. There for about six weeks, the expiring expedition was stowed away in miserable quarters, and the sad remnant re-embarking, put into Ascension, and returned to England in the autumn of 1842. All the sappers had been seized with the river fever, so called from its peculiarity. Some had severe relapses, but only two died—William Rabling at the confluence, on the shores of which he was interred, and William Moffatt, somewhere between the Niger and Ascension.
The duties performed by the detachment were in all respects the same as the marines, until the river Niger was reached, when they acted as seamen; but were never required to go aloft. Their chief services were rendered at the model farm. Corporal Edmonds was ship’s corporal, and had charge of the after hold of the vessel containing the provisions of the officers. Whenever Captain Trotter, or any of the officers left the vessel for purposes of exploration, he always accompanied them as coxswain, armed with a rifle and a full pouch of powder. Others of the party were also occasionally employed in this particular manner, and all, as their health permitted, assisted by Kroomen, performed the last rites of sepulture on those fatal shores to the many dead. The special duty they were sent out to perform was not required of them, as nautical skill overcame the difficulties of the navigation without subaqueous blasting. While serving with the expedition, each sapper received double pay according to his rank, and free rations. Corporal Edmonds and private John Craig were specially noticed by Captain Trotter. “Their steady, zealous conduct, even when sickness might have excused them from duty, tended much to the good discipline of the ‘Albert,’ and merited,” as the captain reported, “his best acknowledgments.” The latter assisted with readiness, at all times, in some of the scientific observations.
Above the confluence, corporal Edmonds[[389]] was out in the forest with Doctors M‘William and Stanger, when suddenly turning round, he saw, approaching from behind a tree, a young elephant, which was near to him. In an instant he fired his rifle and the bullet pierced the animal in the head. Fearing an attack by other elephants for this assault, the gentlemen and the corporal hastened to the boats, but as none made their appearance, the party returned into the forest, when Edmonds, with a daring that bordered on rashness, rushed up to the enraged beast and plunged his sword into its throat. The poor animal gave a few hoarse groans and expired. As trophies of this sanguinary incident, Edmonds brought away its tusks, and Dr. M‘William one of its feet.
On the 24th of February, an undress frock coat was established for the staff sergeants of the corps. It was plain, without ornament of any kind, single-breasted, of dark Oxford mixture, with regimental buttons and Prussian collar. The same undress is still worn; but the colour has been changed from dark Oxford mixture to dark blue.—See Plate [XVII]., 1854.
By a commission dated 24th May, Captain Henry Sandham was appointed brigade-major in the room of Major Edward Matson, promoted to be assistant adjutant-general to the royal engineers. The latter officer had for many years been attached to the corps, and never did its character stand higher than under his command. No means did he leave untried to elevate its ranks, and raise it in public estimation. He was a disciplinarian in the right sense of the word, but in enforcing his orders, he always evinced such a just measure of mild consideration, that it was difficult to discover the rigidity with which he really acted. So much had he gained the gratitude of the corps, that the non-commissioned officers at head-quarters respectfully solicited he would sit to an eminent artist for his portrait. One hundred pounds was the sum intended to be expended, if necessary, in its execution; but as the rules of the service seemed to be opposed to such a testimonial, the Major felt it to be his duty to decline the honour.
Early in May, sergeant-major Jones and twenty-four rank and file proceeded to Spithead to resume the operations against the wreck of the ‘Royal George.’ This was the third season of their employment under the Admiralty; and Lieut. G. R. Hutchinson, R.E., was placed in executive command of the party. The same round of duties and toils which marked their previous service at the wreck, were repeated with but little variation of detail this season. They were constantly on board ship, or employed in boats or lighters attending to the general business of the wreck, and often exposed to gales and storms, amid difficulty and peril, emulated in their coolness and exertions the weather-beaten seamen engaged for the service. All the artificers' work of every kind was executed by them. They were also entrusted with the entire management of the voltaic battery and explosions, and for a portion of the time, the whole of the helmet-diving devolved upon them. “Throughout the operations,” writes Colonel Pasley, “they were of the greatest service by their zeal and exertions.” The season closed on the 29th October, and the detachment returned[returned] again to Chatham.
Of individuals, Colonel Pasley makes honourable mention of the following:
Sergeant-major Jones, for his able and zealous assistance to Lieut. Hutchinson in the management of the operations and preserving the discipline of the men.
Sergeant Samuel March was very useful in special duties of importance; and his drawings and sketches of several hundred interesting relics and detached portions of the wreck were well executed.[[390]]
Corporal David Harris, lance-corporals Richard P. Jones and John Rae, and privates John Skelton, John Williams, and Roderick Cameron, made their services apparent in the duty of diving; and several others, particularly privates James Anderson, James Jago, and Alexander M‘Alpine, promised well. Of these second-rate divers Anderson was so far advanced that besides slinging numerous timbers, he probed his way to the dreary bottom of the ship and sent up 18 feet of the keelson. The successful exertions of the whole party attracted admiration, and an immense pile of about 18,600 cubic feet, or 372 loads of timber, got up from the wreck in the summer, was deposited in Portsmouth dockyard, chiefly through their exertions. The divers were six or seven hours a day, and sometimes more, under water, at a depth of sixty or seventy feet; and so skilfully had they learned to economize time and save labour, that all sent up their bundles of staves, casks, or timber, as closely packed together, as a woodman would make up his fagots in the open air. In one haul, corporal Jones sent up fifty-eight such pieces lashed together, and corporal Harris ninety-one! Only one professional civil diver was employed in concert with them for about half the season; and of the five guns recovered, two brass 24-pounders, the most valuable of the whole, and an iron 32-pounder, were got up by corporal Harris. This non-commissioned officer was a most confident and resolute diver, and in Siebe’s dress, repeatedly plunged into the sea, head foremost, for experiment. However safe might have been the apparatus, it required a bold spirit to make the first essay. Lance-corporal Jones, from his superior intelligence, rendered himself eminently useful. He was the first to get to the bottom of the wreck; and to prove his title to the honour, sent up 13 feet of the keel.[[391]] The larboard side, which leaned over when the vessel sunk, had fallen to pieces and was buried in the mud. This was the most troublesome part of the work; and corporal Jones, by tact and perseverance, after removing the timbers on that side, got up 300 superficial feet of outside planking covered with copper, under which he found the original ground on which the larboard bilge rested. His exertions were immense, and the huge pile he recovered, was increased by several tons of iron ballast slung by him. Corporal Harris was no less successful in reaching places hitherto untouched, for he wormed his way down to the floor timbers, found the lee side of the wreck, and came in contact with another foundered ship of some magnitude, from which he tore a couple of timbers and sent them aloft. This discovery was due to an unusual mode of descent in which Harris engaged. He went down from the yawl by the sweeps and was stopped in his course by the unknown wreck. On re-ascending he became entangled in the sweeps and the buoy-line, without, however, experiencing any inconvenience beyond the extra exertion of disengaging himself from their meshes.
The curiosities obtained this season were in chief part sent up by Corporal Harris, and though intrinsically trifling, were regarded with infinitely more relish than the huge masses which made the wharf groan with their weight. Nearly the first article recovered was a human skull—sad relic of that catastrophe which engulfed in a moment so many souls: then came a cumbersome musket with some fragments of arms that might have done honourable service against the foe. Not the least interesting was a stick of sealing-wax with its Dutch advertisement, which translated announced its qualities in these recommendatory terms—“Fine, well burning, fast holding sealing-wax.” Skelton found a dog-collar inscribed with the name of “Thomas Little. Victory. 1781.” The little favourite, no doubt, went down with its young master, who was a midshipman on board the ill-fated ‘Royal George.’ Singular that sixty years after, this simple collar should be dug from the depths, to become a mournful souvenir of its perished owner.
Professional divers during the season could not be obtained, unless at a cost each, sufficient to pay four or five military divers. The latter, paid by the tide, usually earned three or four times as much as the regular working pay of the corps, and their successful exertions supplied work for about 100 men, who were daily employed in removing the timbers, guns, ballast, &c. slung by them. To aid the divers in their labours, large rakes and half-anchor creepers were drawn over the shoal in which the remains of the wreck were lying, by which means much of the mud was harrowed up and cleared away. The timbers of the wreck were thus somewhat exposed, and five, and sometimes six sapper-divers were down at a tide, forcing their way through its dangerous tracks, and sending above its ponderous fragments.
In the course of the season, corporal Jones and private Skelton ascertained a curious fact before unknown in the annals of diving. They met at the bottom, and to their surprise discovered, when standing close together, they could hear each other speak; but the knowledge thus obtained could not be turned to advantage, as the continued effort to speak loudly, exhausted their powers and rendered them unable to hold a connected conversation.[[392]] Skelton also met George Hall in the wreck, to whom he introduced himself in a way sufficiently courteous for divers, by tapping the chêf on the helmet with his iron pricker.
Private Skelton, as on former occasions, made himself conspicuous by his skill and diligence as an artificer and his tact as a diver; and in addition, this season, his gallantry led him to plunge into the sea to save a boy who had fallen overboard, and his father who jumped after him, neither of whom could swim. As the tide was running very strong, Skelton, with great judgment, tied a line round his body, which he made fast to the stern of the ‘Success’ frigate, and then jumped into the sea; but before he reached the drowning boy and his parent, a boat quickly came to hand and saved them.
Alarming accidents, none of which fortunately proved fatal, occurred to lance-corporal Jones, and privates Skelton and Cameron. Corporal Jones had his mouth crushed and some of his front teeth broken by an iron dog, which he had attached to a bull rope bearing a heavy strain, slipping from its hold and striking him violently under the helmet. He was at the time endeavouring to move a piece of timber from the load, when a pig of iron ballast, weighing about three hundred weight, got dislodged and fell upon his helmet. Had not his head been thus protected, he would have been killed on the spot, for it made an indentation in the metal as large as the palm of one’s hand, and nearly an inch deep. At another time, a large floor timber, which resisted many efforts to sling it, was at last in a fair way of reaching the deck, but on heaving on the bull rope, the chain flew off with violence, and struck Jones a blow on the hand, laying bare one of his fingers to the bone. Such was his spirit, however, he remained at the work, though the mutilated limb might readily have excused him from further duty. Anderson, busy at work over the wreck, lost all idea of time, and remained below imprudently long. Meanwhile the tide began to run swiftly, and, losing his ladder which was fixed on the larboard side of the lump, he was carried under it, and came up at the starboard side. The man attending the life-line found, on hauling it, that it pulled against the keel of the lump, and the diver, thus precariously situated, could not be drawn up. At first this had a very alarming appearance, but the evolution which brought him to the surface, took away the danger of the accident, and he alighted on deck without injury. Skelton was coming up from the bottom to permit the firing of a charge, but by some mismanagement in the signals, the explosion took place when he was a few feet from the surface of the water, and the shock injured his chest and rendered him insensible for a short time. Four days afterwards he resumed his place as a diver with his usual zeal and activity. Cameron received an injury by the bursting of the air-pipe connected with his helmet, and when hauled on deck, he was almost dead from suffocation. He recovered, however, after a month’s treatment in Haslar Hospital, and in some respect to compensate him for his suffering, the Admiralty ordered him to receive his subsistence free of expense.
These accidents never for a moment damped the courage of the other men of the detachment, for they were always ready to take the places of the injured divers the instant they were warned for the duty. Not every man, however, who offered, was found capable of diving under such a pressure of water as existed at Spithead. The effect of the weight may be conceived from the fact, that the strongest cask sent down empty cracked like an egg-shell. Twelve sappers, in addition to those named above, essayed to be of service in the art, but several among the most resolute and promising divers after two or three days' trial, were compelled to desist from the duty. Headaches, giddiness, and spitting of blood, were the effects of their exertions. Even of the seasoned divers, not a man escaped repeated attacks of acute rheumatism and cold; and it was not a little surprising to find them returning to the work even before they had ceased to complain of their ailments. Harris, Rae and Williams were really martyrs in suffering; but, nevertheless, they continued to labour at the bottom, even when the sea was high, the weather bitterly cold, and their hands so benumbed, that they could scarcely feel anything that they slung.[[393]]
Second-corporal McQueen returned to the woods in May to resume the reconnaissance and survey of the disputed territory in North America under Captain Broughton, R.E., and Mr. J. D. Featherstonhaugh, Her Majesty’s commissioners. On the 3rd May the Metis lake was gained, where corporal McQueen was stationed in charge of the observatory until the middle of July. Every day for that period he registered, hourly, the barometrical observations of nine instruments with thermometers both attached and detached. On the 18th July he entered the bush again with thirteen Indians and Canadians, and penetrated the forest for forty miles, which brought him to the Metjarmette mountain. Throughout this journey he recorded with great care, at the appointed hours, the indications of the different instruments in his charge, and assisted in the various duties of the survey. The mission returned to Lake Metis by a different route, ascertaining, as it travelled, the sources of the streams in its track, and recording such topographical minutiæ of a particular character as were desirable to elucidate the duties and objects of the enterprise. On the 24th October, corporal McQueen sailed from Quebec viâ Halifax, Nova Scotia, to England, and arrived at Woolwich on the 20th November, 1841. For three seasons he had served with the Commissioners; twice he was the only British soldier with the expedition, and in appreciation of his diligence and conduct, was awarded by Lord Palmerston, in addition to his working pay, a gratuity of 10l.[[394]]
By warrant dated 21st June, 1841, a company of eighty-nine strong, numbered the 11th, and one quartermaster-sergeant, were added to the corps, which increased its establishment from 1,208 to 1,298 of all ranks. The company was raised for Bermuda at the suggestion of the Governor of the colony, in consequence of the impracticability of obtaining artificers among the civil population of the required competency to carry on the works. It did not, however, reach the station—where one company was already employed—until the 2nd April, 1842. The quartermaster-sergeant was appointed for duty at Chatham, and sergeant Thomas Fraser was promoted to the rank.[[395]]
Private Henry Entwistle distinguished himself on the 30th August, 1841, at pontoon practice, by plunging into the rapid stream of the Medway near Rochester Bridge, and at imminent personal risk, rescuing from drowning private Samuel Turner of the corps, who had fallen overboard and was unable to swim. His courage on this occasion gained the admiration of the Royal Humane Society, which awarded him a silver medallion accompanied by a vellum certificate, recording the particulars of his intrepidity, signed by the Duke of Northumberland.[[396]]
The detachments at Sandhurst during the year greatly exerted themselves in the field-work instruction, and returned to the corps receiving much praise for their zeal and good conduct. Corporal John Carlin was in charge of both parties, and was extremely useful. In the spring term he skilfully prepared the apparatus for a series of subaqueous explosions by the voltaic battery;[[397]] and, at the autumn examination, the rafts and bridges exhibited on the lakes and canals were constructed by him and his party. These consisted of rafts of rough timber and bridges upon various principles, such as floating, suspension, and trestle; also spars heavily loaded at one end to act as levers, and others interlaced upon a system of mutual pressure. In carrying out these services corporal Carlin was honourably noticed, “as a non-commissioned officer of much merit and ingenuity.”[[398]] Corporal John Cameron was also mentioned in the Governor’s reports for his activity and ability, and for having executed with great neatness a quantity of sod revetments for the scarps of the field-works.
Colonel Pasley was removed from the appointment of director of the royal engineer establishment at Chatham in November, 1841, on promotion to the rank of Major-General.[[399]] Nearly thirty years he had held the office, and fulfilled its various functions with a genius, composure, and success, that no successor can ever hope to surpass. To him the corps is largely indebted for that military efficiency which has characterized its progress since 1812. Diligently superintending its practical exercise in all the operations of a siege, as well as in mining, pontooning, and bridge-making, and in the numerous other essential details of the field establishment, he made the corps fully equal to the prosecution of any service in which its assistance might be required. Some well-meaning officers of high rank did not see the necessity of training the corps in the principles of elementary fortification,[[400]] but Colonel Pasley finally overcame their honest scruples by earnest argument. He not only gained this concession, but was permitted to teach the corps the elementary principles of geometry and plan-drawing; and ultimately, so extensive and complete had his system become, that some hundreds of non-commissioned officers and men passed from his schools, as surveyors and draughtsmen, to the survey of Ireland. As a disciplinarian he was rigid; and in exacting from all under his command that obedience, attention, and punctuality which were the characteristics of his own laborious career, he was blind to that partiality or favouritism which could cover the indiscretion of one offender and punish that of another.
Here it may be right to show what was the public opinion of the corps at this period, as contrasted with its state at the commencement of the Peninsular war, and to whom its improved organization and perfect efficiency were chiefly attributed. “With respect to our engineer establishment, it would perhaps be difficult to name any occasion on which a modern European army took the field so utterly destitute of efficient means for conducting siege operations as were the British troops at the opening of the last war. At this moment, on the contrary, no army in the world possesses engineer officers and soldiers better instructed in all that relates to the science and practice of this branch of the service. We have heard one of the most able and most experienced of those officers declare, that when he was first called upon to take part in some siege operations at the very outset of the war, he had never seen a gabion, nor was there a soldier in the force who knew how to make one. To carry on a sap, or drive the gallery of a mine, was alike an impossible attempt. The army had neither a single sapper, miner, or pontoneer, and a few drunken and worthless military artificers formed the only engineer troops.... The lessons of experience thus dearly bought have not been acquired in vain. The practical engineer school at Chatham, organised and long directed by Colonel Pasley, has produced a corps of sappers and miners equal to any in Europe. Their exercises on the Medway have likewise given them the qualities of excellent pontoneers.”[[401]]
Another extract from the same journal, relative to the conduct of the corps and the impolicy of the reductions which have taken place in its numbers since the return of the army of occupation from France in 1818, should not be suppressed:—“The reductions in the sappers and miners since the war are much to be regretted; and it would be more wise to organize them equivalently to two battalions of eight companies. They are a description of troops invaluable in every respect,—being as soldierlike, and well trained in the duties of infantry, as the best regiments of that arm, and therefore equally available for all military services in garrisons and quarters; while their qualities as artificers are by no means confined to admirable proficiency in their proper business as engineer-soldiers, in the management of the pontoon-train and the conduct of siege operations. Their exemplary conduct offers an illustration of a principle too much neglected in the discipline of modern armies—that to find constant and wholesome occupation for troops, as indeed for mankind in every situation, is the best security both for happiness and good order.... But in the case of this engineer corps, apart from the important object of keeping up an efficient body for those peculiar duties of their arm in the field, which require a regular course of practical education, we are convinced it would be found true economy to increase its force for the repair and maintenance of the numerous fortifications in every quarter of our colonial empire.”[[402]]
This perhaps is the fittest place to introduce a glowing testimony to the corps, penned by one well acquainted with its merits and defects, and too impartial to append his name to any but a faithful record. “Indeed,” writes Sir John Jones, “justice requires it to be said, that these men, whether employed on brilliant martial services, or engaged in the more humble duties of their calling, either under the vertical sun of the tropics, or in the frozen regions of the north, invariably conduct themselves as good soldiers; and by their bravery, their industry, or their acquirements, amply repay the trouble and expense of their formation and instruction.”[[403]]
Nor should the testimony of the chaplain-general, the Rev. G. R. Gleig, be omitted. Unconnected as he is with the royal sappers and miners, his opinion has been formed without the prejudice of interested feelings. In taking a bird’s-eye retrospect of the formation and growth of some of our military institutions, he thus speaks of the corps: “Besides the infantry, cavalry and artillery, of which the regular army was composed, and the corps of engineers, coeval with the latter, there sprang up during the war of the French Revolution other descriptions of force, which proved eminently useful each in its own department, and of the composition of which a few words will suffice to give an account. First, the artificers as they were called, that is to say, the body of men trained to the exercise of mechanical arts, such as carpentry, bricklaying, bridgemaking, and so forth, which in all ages seem to have attended on a British army in the field, became the royal sappers and miners, whose services, on many trying occasions, proved eminently useful, and who still do their duty cheerfully and satisfactorily in every quarter of the globe. During the late war, they were commanded under the officers of engineers, by a body of officers who took no higher rank than that of lieutenant, and consisted entirely of good men, to whom their merits had earned commissions. Their education, carried on at Woolwich and Chatham, trained them to act in the field as guides and directors to all working parties, whether the business in hand might be the construction of a bridge, the throwing up of field works, or the conduct of a siege. Whatever the engineer officers required the troops to do was explained to a party of sappers, who, taking each his separate charge, showed the soldiers of the line both the sort of work that was required of them, and the best and readiest method of performing it. The regiment of sappers was the growth of the latter years of the contest, after the British army had fairly thrown itself into the great arena of continental warfare, and proved so useful, that while men wondered how an army ever could have been accounted complete without this appendage, the idea of dispensing with it in any time to come, seems never to have arisen in the minds of the most economical.”[[404]]