At the end of February, 1856, the diplomatists at Paris agreed upon an armistice during the discussion of a treaty of peace. The immediate effect was observable in the Crimea, as soon as the several commanders had received information. On the morning of the 1st March, a white flag was hoisted on the Tchernaya bridge, and near it assembled the Russian commander, a staff of officers, and a troop of Cossacks. The English commander with his staff, accompanied by others from the French and Sardinians, descended across the valley to the bridge where they met the Russians with whom they discussed the details of an armistice. The cessation of hostilities was to last one month, during the consideration of the treaty. Through the aid of their interpreters they decided that the Tchernaya river was to be the boundary between the opposing armies. The quietest month spent by the allied armies in the Crimea was the month of March, 1856. Hostilities were entirely stopped, and yet none could say whether they might not commence again with all their horrors. The diplomatists at Paris had one month to decide the question of peace or war.
The commanders, while maintaining their boundary arrangement, did not prohibit friendly meetings of the opposing armies on their respective banks of the boundary line, where the officers and soldiers frequently assembled to look at each other in peace and try to converse in a friendly manner across the stream, when the exchange of coins and other small articles or mementoes took place, and an interchange of civilities such as "bono Johnny," "bono Francais," "bono Roos," besides other complimentary expressions. This intercourse was kept up during the month of the armistice. For the rest, the operations of the month differed little from those of the camp at Aldershot, all the divisions being exercised and reviewed in the open spots all round the camp. Sometimes the Russians held their reviews on the same day that we did, with the glittering bayonets of each full in view of the other, and both alike safe in the conviction that no unfriendly shot would disturb the pageant.
On the 23rd of this month, festivities in the French camp celebrated the birth of an heir to the French imperial throne; bonfires were kindled, guns fired, reviews held, horse-racing on the banks of the Tchernaya, healths drank by the French and their allies, even the Russians participated in the rejoicings, for they lighted fires all along their lines.
April brought with it the treaty of peace. Before the hour had arrived when the armistice would have expired, news was received that the treaty had been signed at Paris. When peace was proclaimed, an interchange of invitations took place between the Russian army and the allies. The Russian soldiers came over to our camp, in small parties at a time, and we did the same to their camp, each party in charge of a non-commissioned officer. I and twelve privates visited the Russian camp and their bazaar, which we found much the same as our own. All sorts of English goods were sold there, even "Bass's bottled ale," and "Guiness's porter," at a dollar a bottle. Their bread was as black as your boot; the coffee-houses were crowded with English, French and Russian soldiers, drinking, singing, and dancing; and the interchange of any amount of "bono Johnnys," "bono Roos," and "bono Francais," trying to make each other believe that they were great friends.
On the 17th April, the British and French troops had a grand review on the heights near St. George's Monastery (at which General Luders, the Russian commander, with his brilliant staff, was present). They were formed up in line of continuous quarter distance columns of battalions, when the commanders of the different armies with their gorgeous retinue of staff and cavalry officers rode along the line, with the bands of each regiment playing in succession; after which they marched past the grand assemblage of commanders and staff, in quick time, each regiment marching past in grand division style, with its band playing in front. General Luders returned deeply impressed with the appearance of the allied armies, and expressed himself much gratified at the attention shown him by the allied forces. Duties of a more serious character, however, now demanded the attention of the Generals. Large armies were to be removed from the Crimea, and vast stores of provisions and ammunition; besides all the round shot the Russians had fired at us during the siege, which we had gathered and carried on our back to the railway depôt for shipment to England with all the commissariat stores brought down from each divisional depôt at the front where they had been collected in such immense quantities. Day after day, during the summer months, did the various regiments leave the Crimea, some for Malta, others for the Ionian Islands, the West Indies, or Canada, but the greater part for England. All the camp equipage and stores for each regiment had to be brought into transport order, and everything brought to Balaklava for shipment.
About the 10th of May the 17th Regiment marched from their old camp on Cathcart's Hill, and embarked at Balaklava at two o'clock in the afternoon, on board the steam transport "Sir Robert Low." At 3 p.m. we moved slowly out between the rocks which overhang the narrow entrance to the harbour. We were all on deck with tears in our eyes, taking a last sad look towards "Cathcart's Hill" where we had left so many noble comrades behind in that cold desolate plateau, so far away from friends and relatives; these thoughts filled us with sadness. As our ship glided through the beautiful calm, blue waters of the Euxine, the land faded from our view. We then turned our thoughts homewards after giving thanks to God for the great mercy he had shown in bringing us safely through all the death struggles and hardships which our brave troops had suffered; and now that we were returning alive we had every reason to be thankful.
The weather being fine, we made the passage across the Black Sea in 48 hours. The second day at two p.m., we passed the old fortress of Riva which commands the entrance to the Bosphorus, passing Constantinople at 3 o'clock, taking a last look at that strange old city, with its picturesque sights, the tall minarets and the blue waters of the Bosphorus catching the golden light as the sun dipped behind the distant hills. We rounded Seraglio point and steamed down the Marmora, passing the Seven Towers on our right, and slowly the beautiful city faded from our view forever. We had a smooth passage across the Sea of Marmora. Next morning at ten o'clock we passed Gallipoli. On the 14th May, at 9 o'clock in the evening, as our ship was running at the rate of ten knots an hour, an alarm of fire came from the cook's galley. The troops were immediately formed up along the decks, and the pumps manned. After a quarter of an hour's hard work we mastered the fire, and put it out, but not before it had burned a large hole in the ship's deck, and destroyed the galley. We had in truth a narrow escape, the fire nearly getting the better of us. On the morning of the 17th May we arrived at Malta, where we received orders to proceed to Quebec. The Regiment being over the strength of non-commissioned officers, those who had families at home got the preference of remaining behind, and joining the reserve battalion at Malta. I was one of the latter; after bidding good-bye to the old regiment, with tears in my eyes, I disembarked with twelve others and joined the reserve battalion. The regiment proceeding to Canada next morning at 8 o'clock, we after landing, were quartered in Strada Reale Barracks.
The garrison was at this time filled with the soldiers of more than one nation, and the medley of tongues was rather bewildering to the ears, as was the diversity of costume to the eyes. There were the Italian and German Legions promenading the streets in their gay uniforms, Malta fencibles, English artillery and infantry. The large number of soldiers in such a small place made it a perfect military hot-house.
The Strada Reale, with its lazy moving crowds and singular architecture, was soon entered. Lights were beginning to brighten the shop-windows and streets; occasionally sparkling from the numerous bay-windows above; but though the night was approaching, the air, deeply impregnated with the fumes of tobacco and odour of garlic, was close and suffocating, more especially from the intense heat exhaled from the arid rock, which had all day blazed under a fierce sun. The barracks were so crowded, and the weather so hot, that the doctor ordered the 17th under canvas at St. Frances' Camp. An order detailed your humble servant, Corporal Faughnan, to proceed on June 6th, by one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamers, to Alexandria, there to take over some marine invalids according to written instructions, and take charge of them to Malta.
June 6th. At nine o'clock, a.m., I embarked on board the steamer for Alexandria. As we passed out of the harbour at 9.30, the sky was blue and pleasant, the air balmy and clear. The Island, like a blue cloud in the distance, faded away, and again the trackless waste of waters stretched like a boundless expanse around us.