The evening we spent on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers will not be soon forgotten. After a short nautical and nocturnal trip upon the water, we arrived safely in our old London. On our way to the Baraguay d’Hilliers, Mr. Bracebridge informed me that Miss Nightingale was pronounced out of danger, and that the news had been telegraphed to London. The medical men were of opinion that she should return to Scutari, and after a few days’ rest proceed to England. Although out of danger, she would not be able to quit Balaklava for eight or ten days. The next morning, at seven o’clock, I was at the Sanatorium kitchen, which was finished. I set my soldier-cooks to work, and all went on admirably. It was then ten o’clock, so I called upon Dr. Hadley (the chief doctor at the Sanatorium, who had succeeded Dr. Henderson, and to both of these gentlemen I must return my sincere thanks for their assistance and kindness), and requested him to come and taste some extra diets and soups I had prepared for the convalescents. Recollecting that I had not called upon Lord Raglan’s chef de cuisine, I mentioned the circumstance to Dr. Hadley, stating how much I wished to do so, but that I had no horse. Dr. Hadley very kindly offered me his pony, a fine grey, smartly caparisoned, which I at once accepted. When I had mounted, Dr. Hadley said—“Soyer, if you fall off, mind and get up again; for,” said he, “joking apart, though the pony is very quiet, recollect the road to Balaklava is a queer one, therefore take care of yourself. We should not mind so much if we had done with, you; but as we really require your services, for our own sakes take care of yourself.”
“I will do so,” said I, laughing, “were it only for the sake of your pony, which might get loose if I were to fall off, and you might not recover him again.”
“Never mind the pony,” said he: “you may lose him; but, whatever you do, don’t lose the saddle. We had better have a bit of supper on your return this evening, off that Yorkshire ham—you can cook it on your bivouac stove.”
“So we will, Doctor. I shall be back at six.”
“Don’t stay in the camp after dark; I can assure you it is a very dangerous place. Robberies and murders are of frequent occurrence, though we hear but little about them. We have no police, and no newspapers are published here, so we know nothing but what passes in our own circle.”
“You are perfectly right, Doctor; though I am not afraid, as I never travel without a revolver; yet it is best to be upon the safe side.”
Having fixed upon six o’clock for my return, and seven for supper, I started. There were about twenty convalescents outside the wards, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays. They were all in high glee at hearing our dialogue, which seemed to revive them from a state of lethargy to the consciousness of life.
The ride from the top of the Genoese heights to Balaklava harbour, by a new road, through mud, over rocks, rivulets, &c., and mounted upon a strange nag, was anything but pleasant to my feelings as a horseman. At all events, after numerous slippery evolutions on the part of my new charger, I found myself safe at the bottom of the ravine; but here another difficulty presented itself. The quay of the harbour was encumbered with French and Sardinian waggons, mules, and horses. The French, who had a wine depôt there for the troops, were strongly fortified with about a hundred pipes of wine, instead of gabions. So crowded was the road from the immense traffic and the unloading of shipping stores, that it took me nearly half-an-hour to ride a few hundred yards. This brought me as far as the Commissariat, where I had to call upon Commissary Filder. I found that he had just returned from head-quarters. We had about ten minutes’ conversation upon business. I related the result of my visit to the various provision stores—made remarks upon the same, and particularly upon the dry vegetables at that time issued to the troops. He then referred me to Under-Commissary Adams, to whom I promised a scale for a fresh composition of dry vegetables in cake, more suitable for the troops, in lieu of the finer and more expensive quality then issued in boxes. They were composed of one vegetable only, and were much too highly dried, having thus lost their aroma as well as their nutritious qualities. I therefore proposed that the firm of Messrs. Chollet, in Paris, should prepare a sample of cakes of dried vegetables, to be called coarse julienne, for the army. Each hundredweight of fresh vegetables was to consist of the following proportions:—
Twenty pounds of carrots, twenty pounds of turnips, ten of parsnips, fifteen of onions, twenty of cabbage, five of celery, and ten of leeks; with one pound of aromatic seasoning, composed of four ounces of thyme, four of winter savory, two of bayleaf, four of pepper, and an ounce of cloves; the whole to be pulverized and mixed with the vegetables.
Each cake was to serve for one hundred men, and to be marked in compartments of ten rations each, like chocolate cakes, instead of being marked upon the wrapper, which is always torn off when the vegetables are issued, and the soldiers cannot tell about quantity. This plan will obviate that evil; for I had seen in camp piles of this excellent vegetable rising pyramidically from the soldiers’ canteen pan while cooking, in consequence of their having put in the best part of three days’ rations instead of one. The dry rations are issued for three days at a time.