Crossing Lord A. Russell’s Rifle’s quarters, I soon arrived in the Third Division. General Adams’s villarette had been turned into a farmhouse; sheep and other cattle grazed in the ravine.
From this spot I visited the General Hospital located in this division; which I found in a similar state as the Sanatorium. Not a sign of life was perceptible in this mournful spot, where so lately I had witnessed so many painful scenes. From here I journeyed to the Brigade of Guards, the theatre of my semi-martial début, having previously inspected the intermediate camp. All was as silent as the grave. A line of obstruction lay on the ground where once the busy railway passed. The Rokeby Castle and its vicinity had the appearance of a travelling caravan of gipsies reposing; children in rags escaped from the group to solicit alms; a few halfpence contented them. In the camp, the kitchen and a number of huts had been burnt down; the mess-room of Colonel Foley was still ornamented with the rustic chandelier which had been bequeathed to me by the gallant colonel before his leaving. Colonels Walker, De Bathe, and the late Colonel Drummond’s habitations were selected as a home by the wandering tribe of gipsies.
General Craufurd’s head-quarters were uninhabited; a few loose horses were grazing near, on the celebrated cricket-ground. The close of my visit was to the English and French head-quarters; in the former I was informed the proprietor had reinstated himself on his domains. The turmoil and traffic of war had here given place to the quietude and repose of peace. The post-office, telegraph, and printing machines had ceased their movements; the vineyards alone appeared refreshing to the eye. Dr. Hall’s snuff-box hut was left open, and partly unroofed; General Wyndham’s quarters were quite deserted. The rope curtains taken from the Redan, and laid on the ground before the hut door, was all that remained which I could recognise, as they had upon my demand, been presented to me by the general’s aide-de-camp, whose name, to my regret, has escaped my memory.
The French head-quarters presented a similar aspect, but was more animated by crowds of adventurers.
Having on my way home taken a glimpse at the ruins of the Seacole Tavern, Land Transport Corps, Army Works Corps, and hospital, I arrived at Bleak House (the head-quarters of Mr. Doyne the engineer), which was drearier than ever, and, like a lost balloon in mid air, entirely deserted; all that remained was the almost indescribable view which, at one glance, stamped the scene as something more than beautiful. From the rock where I stood I could pass in review the remainder of the camp, as yet unexplored by me. On my left once lay Colonel Wood’s park of artillery, and towards it were a few mules clambering, led by Tartars. At the foot of the hill were Captain Gordon’s late quarters; further on, on the next mound, were the head-quarters of the Land Transport Corps, in the occupation of Colonel M’Murdo and Captain Evans; but the most striking object in view was the combined Railway Station and Engine House, once the focus of noise, but now the abode of repose. In abandoning this rural spot, and running my eye a few hundred yards below me, lay a most charmingly built villarette, most suitably called Prospect House, which was the private residence of Mr. Doyne. Science had here conquered what was wanting in material; the goddess Flora had, like the owner, abandoned this pretty landscape; the dry soil and the sun’s rays had “dishabilled” each root from its flower. The cavalry camp and its numerous rows of stables were the last I visited. Dusk gently stole over the horizon when I re-entered the Col of Balaklava. The stars were brightly shining; it was nine o’clock; every bell in the harbour was tolling. Before retiring to rest no less than thirty-seven cemeteries did I count on my daily tablet, which I had passed during my solitary wandering.
The night before the surrender of Balaklava, a large fire broke out in the village of Kadikoi, which, had the wind been high, would have destroyed more than a thousand huts. As usual, the miscreant who had done the mischief escaped detection. General Sir W. Codrington was much vexed at this, as some huts had been sold to the Russian officers. I was, in consequence, deputed by Mr. Bennett, of the Army Works Corps, who was just leaving in another vessel, (at that time I was on board the Argo, and ready to sail the following day) to accompany the Russian officer to Sir W. Codrington, to inform him of the fact that the money had been received, and to request that it might be returned. Sir William, though overwhelmed with business, it being the eve of his departure, kindly attended to the Russian officer’s request; and the next morning, as I was going on board the Argo, I had the pleasure of meeting the Commander-in-chief on his way to the spot where the fire had taken place, in order to assure himself that the huts burnt were those which had been paid for. I had a short walk and conversation with Sir William upon various subjects, and took the opportunity of thanking him for the following letter, with which he had kindly favoured me, containing his opinion of my culinary services during the war:—
Balaklava, July 9th, 1856.
I believe Monsieur Soyer to have given great assistance in showing the soldier how to get the best meal from the food that is given to him; and I have no doubt Monsieur Soyer’s stoves accomplish this purpose in a standing camp or barracks with but little expenditure of fuel. It gives me great pleasure to say that Monsieur Soyer has always been ready to advise and personally superintend the carrying out improvements in the system of cooking: his knowledge and attention have therefore been of service to the army in the Crimea.
W. Codrington, General.
We then parted, the general going to Kadikoi; and I, to select my berth, and see Miss Nightingale’s carriage shipped.