About sixteen days after leaving Plymouth, the vessel I sailed in reached Scutari, where we found one of the transports had arrived nearly a day before us; the other had not come in, but arrived in about twelve hours after us. Many regiments of infantry had a couple of months prior to our arrival landed at Malta, from whence they had sailed for Gallipoli, where they met the first instalment of our allies—the French and the Turks.
The change of climate had already sown the seeds of disease among the infantry, and many who arrived at Gallipoli from Malta got no farther and never came back. The number of our infantry landed at Gallipoli was considerable, consisting of the 93rd, 41st, 77th, 88th, 33rd, 28th, 44th, and 60th regiments, and a portion of the rifle brigade. In addition to the above, about 20,000 French and a large Turkish force had been encamped in the neighbourhood. The commander-in-chief, Lord Raglan, with a portion of his staff, arrived at Gallipoli early in May, and the Duke of Cambridge was only a few days behind him. General Sir George Brown and a numerous staff came out with the first expedition, and the French commander-in-chief, Marshal St. Arnaud, General Canrobert, Prince Napoleon, etc, also sailed, viâ Gallipoli, where they reviewed and manoeuvred the French troops prior to their moving to Scutari, where I first saw them, and it was interesting to witness the curiosity with which some of our men eyed the French infantry, particularly the Zouaves. At first sight the Zouave strikes you as being a native of India, being a deep copper colour, with a flowing beard and huge moustachios. Many suppose them to be Arabs, but the majority are of pure French descent, and I more than suspect that they dye their skin with some liquid to darken it, and give them a more picturesque appearance. Their uniform is loose and easy, forming a striking contrast to the buttoned-up straight-jacket style with which our soldiers are encased and encumbered. The height of these Zouaves runs from five feet four inches to five feet seven inches, and they are proportionately stout and well made, with wiry wearing limbs, and a quickness in their eye and every movement that many of our crack infantry regiments would do well to emulate. They wear a red cap and tassel, in addition to which they have several folds of cloth round their head, altogether forming a sort of turban. Their jackets are blue with scarlet facings; they have also a scarlet waistcoat and a sash to fold several times round the waist. They wear no stocks, and their necks are quite bare; their trousers are red and made very wide, reaching only as far as the knees, where they are met by a sort of yellow gaiter, reaching to the shoes. They regarded a party of ours with as much interest as some of our fellows did them, being particularly struck with the weight of our swords and the pure whiteness of our belts. One of our men remarked, while eyeing over a little consequential fellow (who seemed particularly busy, thrusting his hands into our sabretaches, ostensibly to examine them, but probably for plunder), that he was “so dried up and so hard-fleshed, that no ball could ever enter into his body, no shell could tear him to pieces, and the most experienced carver at a cannibal banquet would have great difficulty in cutting him up.” The worst part of these meetings with the French soldiers was, that, notwithstanding the difficulty each party experienced in making themselves understood, they generally managed to get drunk together, and it was certainly laughable to hear a group of a score or more, about equal numbers of French and English, Scotch and Irish, singing together, the former in different language, and the latter in different accents—a perfect medley and no mistake—with no more tune than a pig tied to a gate. Ours would be singing, or rather shouting, “God Save the Queen,” and “Red, White, and Blue,” while the French were screeching out the “Marseillaise.”
Numerous vessels, chiefly transports, were moored off Scutari when we arrived, all waiting to embark the forces for Varna, a stage nearer to the Crimea. Early in June the encampment at Scutari broke up and proceeded on board the transports, which formed a very considerable fleet. We sailed in the most beautiful weather up the Bosphorus and over the Black Sea, where a dense fog enveloped every vessel, and we had to proceed very cautiously until we sighted the Bay of Varna, where we arrived the day after our embarkation from Scutari.
The Light Division, Rifle Brigade, and several other infantry regiments were disembarked before the cavalry and artillery, during which we had a fine view of the town and neighbourhood, and the busy scene on the jetty, from the deck of our vessel. Cheer after cheer rent the air as each regiment recognised the number of the corps by the colours of their facings. Varna is surrounded by a high wall, behind which are a range of steep hills. These hills were studded here and there with groups of country people; and many of these also crowded on the beach to witness our landing and offer food for sale, principally fowls, which were good and very cheap. A good fowl could be had for eighteen-pence, and a turkey for half-a-crown.
As each regiment landed, they formed on the jetty, and marched off to the merry strains of their band on their way to camp, the men of other regiments cheering them as long as they remained in sight. The encampment was at Aladyn, about a mile and a half from Varna, on a wide, open plain, and only intended as a temporary resting-place before marching to Devna, twenty miles farther up the country.
When most of the infantry had been landed, and the jetty was clear, our disembarkation commenced, after which we marched to Aladyn, and were loudly cheered and played to our lines by the gallant Light Division, composed of the 19th, 77th, 23rd Fusiliers, 7th Fusiliers, 33rd (Duke of Wellington’s), and the 88th Connaught Rangers.
After remaining at Aladyn a few days, we struck our tents and marched out of the encampment for Devna, being accompanied by the Light Division, five guns, and a part of the 17th Lancers. Leaving the Light Division to encamp at a place called Kojuck, about ten miles from Varna, we continued our march through a most beautiful tract of country, but almost destitute of inhabitants, the wild flowers covering the face of the land as far as the eye could reach. Here and there were droves of sheep of a dark-brown colour, and no bigger than a thorough-bred French poodle. We also saw numerous herds of cattle—queer little creatures, about the size of a good Leicestershire ram—but we afterwards found them not bad eating, and not too dear. When the country people found they had nothing to fear, and that we paid them freely for everything they brought, they came into camp every morning, but were never accompanied by women.
We had left two troops of our regiment at Aladyn, but they afterwards came into head-quarters, having lost four men from disease through drinking the bad water, for the ale and porter we had heard so much about had not arrived, or, having arrived, was perhaps being consumed by the staff of the imbecile commissariat. The wine was sour, and gave us the diarrhoea; and the spirits, though cheap enough, were so fiery and villainous that a glass or two drove us headlong into trouble.