I then went to the purveyor, and to the kitchen; but fearing, as the battle was raging fiercely, the number of wounded might exceed the means at their disposal, I remained about the hospitals. I did this in case my services might be required, as I was well aware of the importance of speedy relief to the sufferers.
Towards evening the wounded began to arrive, though not in great numbers. I left my Zouave there and returned to the camp, telling him if anything was required, to ride home at once and inform me, as the doctors would be so much engaged—and in particular Dr. Mouatt, who would most probably not be able to devote his time to the culinary department. As I rode towards Sebastopol, to have another look at the battle, I met only a few wounded. Upon inquiring of the orderlies in charge whether there were many more, they replied that they could not say, but they believed that there were a great number. I then returned to my tent, and a few minutes afterwards my naval friends arrived. The dinner was served up, and they told me that they had had a good view of the besieged city from the French lines. In the course of conversation, they informed me that Colonel (now General) Wyndham had invited them to dinner that day. I replied, “I am very anxious about him, as he led the storming party in the Redan, and I have heard the attack has been very severe, and many were killed and wounded on both sides.” I also heard that it had been retaken by the Russians, and feared he might have been taken prisoner, if not wounded or killed.
When dinner was over, I proposed to pass them through the lines and make inquiry about him. We proceeded to Cathcart’s Hill—it was then nearly dusk—I on horseback, they on foot. The camp around us was as still and deserted as in the morning; scarcely any one was to be seen till we reached the lines. Very few shots were heard, but every one was at his post. Upon reaching Cathcart’s Hill, I alighted to speak with his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, who had been in the trenches all day and had just returned. He was kind enough to give me the details of the attacks on both sides, and said that he was waiting for General Bentinck, who had not yet been seen, and that he hoped nothing had happened to him. I observed, “This is a most anxious hour for all who have friends engaged in so serious and dangerous an encounter.”
While conversing with the Duke, I missed my two companions. Thinking they knew the position of Colonel Wyndham’s quarters, I went there expecting to find them. My first and most anxious inquiry of the servant, who knew me well, was, “What news of the Colonel?”
“Oh, all right, Monsieur Soyer,” he replied with great satisfaction. “If you wish to see him, he is gone to Colonel Wood’s tent—you know where it is.”
“No I don’t.”
“Then I’ll show you—he will be glad to see you.”
“I will not trouble you, as I would not disturb him on such a day for the world. I am glad to hear he is safe; but have you seen two gentlemen?”
“No one excepting yourself, sir. You must come with me; my master is alone, waiting for the Colonel, and I’m sure they will both be happy to see you.”
Colonel Wyndham had just changed his clothes before going to the Colonel’s to dine. His servant showed them to me; they were covered with blood and dust. I followed him to Colonel Wood’s hut, and found Colonel Wyndham walking quickly to and fro in the hut, apparently much preoccupied and excited. His eyes emitted flashes of fire, his open countenance had assumed its usual majestic calm and dignity, his lips were parched, his proud brow betokened much restlessness, and though his forehead was covered with glory, you could perceive through the wreath of laurel which had only a few hours before been deposited there by Mars, a deep shadow of thoughtfulness and care. His physiognomy told a tale. Victory had of him made a great hero, without having had time to put her final seal to his martial and petulant ardour. Another battle was yet to be fought.