About this time we were pleased to hear the news that the 4th Light Dragoons had arrived to join our brigade, henceforth being our brethren in arms; they were encamped with the 6th by the sea-shore, but both regiments lost several men from cholera, and each (especially the gallant 4th) were destined to lose the greater part of their men by the sword, as will afterwards be related. Many of the best, the bravest, and the most light-hearted of my own regiment died of the fearful pestilence at Devna.
At the latter end of August we got the welcome order to march from Devna and Monastir to Varna, with an assurance that we should soon be embarked for the Crimea, and at least be allowed to fight for our lives with a more chivalrous, if not a less relentless, enemy than the cholera. The 5th “Green Horse” lost so many men, that the remainder were for a time (until augmented by drafts from home) attached to the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
That now the English bottoms have waft o’er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide.
Shakespeare.
After our arrival at Varna we had to wait a few days for the order of embarkation, and finally sailed in company with the 17th Lancers in the Himalaya, Lord Cardigan and his staff being aboard the same vessel; the 11th Hussars, 4th and 13th Light Dragoons being embarked aboard other transports, as also the heavy cavalry at the same time. Never was an army embarked for almost immediate active service under less favourable circumstances. Our ranks were decimated by disease, and the authorities apparently regardless of our health, food, clothing, and comfort, so necessary to render an army contented and vigorous in the face of the enemy. Still our men kept up their spirits, and only one desire pervaded the whole of the cavalry with whom I came in contact, and this was to “meet the Roosians and have done with it.” Not a man knew where it was intended to land the army, but it was generally understood that fighting would begin in earnest directly we came in sight of the enemy on the shores of the Crimea. I noticed the gallant 42nd Highlanders aboard the Emeu, and the Scots Fusiliers aboard the Kangaroo, and no men could be in better spirits.
The 4th Light Dragoons embarked in the Simla, and the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards, with the remnant of the 5th, were conveyed to the scene of action in the Trent. The men were all in capital spirits, and their after-service proved that they meant business, as also did the 13th Light Dragoons (who sailed in the Jason, if I remember right); and the 17th Lancers, with the old 8th King’s Royal Irish and 11th Hussars, proved what British cavalry can do, even under the most distressing circumstances, as shown by their wild death-ride through the vale of Balaklava, where the imbecility of their leaders nearly caused what few of them that the cholera had left, to be annihilated by charging unsupported an army in position. The transports and other vessels necessary to remove the Allied array numbered over 700, which, with the fleet, formed a magnificent sight when fairly out of the bay of Varna. Captain Longmore of ours, who accompanied Lord Cardigan in his reconnoitring expedition along the Danube, died of cholera aboard the Himalaya before we sailed, and his body was taken ashore and buried. Not a better officer ever commanded a troop; he was a strict disciplinarian, but not a petty tyrant, and there was not a man in the regiment but who mourned his loss as children would a father. Several more officers and men died before sailing and on the passage, and their bodies were thrown overboard. I saw about fifty Zouaves drowned between the transport on board which they were to embark and the shore: they were all in complete marching order, and thus were prevented from swimming. The boat came in contact with a foreign vessel containing stores, and the former was sunk in less than a minute, the Zouaves disappearing with the most frightful yells; and they never rose again, a few—very few—only being saved.
Lord Raglan, the Commander-in-Chief, and staff embarked on board the Caradoc; and some idea may be formed of the expedition when I say that it would have formed a line upwards of ten miles in length. We sailed in the direction of Eupatoria, and when some distance from the place, but within range of the guns of the fleet, the Caradoc sailed towards the town with the white flag of truce, and it was generally understood we were to land there at once. But for some reason the idea was abandoned, and orders were given to sail farther down shore, for about ten miles, until we came to a low sandy beach on the 14th of September. All eyes were now directed to the beach—the first glimpse we had ever had of the Russian soil—and we fully expected to see it bristling with cannon; but all was peaceful and silent; not an armed man was visible as our officers eagerly scanned the shore with the aid of their glasses. Plenty of corn and cattle, and the Tartar farmers were all busy with their harvest. After some hours’ delay, caused by having to wait until the whole of the transports—some of whom were slower sailers than others—had come up, the expedition came to anchor from two to three miles from the beach. The French, who anchored some vessels on our right, were the first to lower a boat, with about a score of men in it; they quickly ran on shore, and jumped out, some of them up to the middle in water. A flag-staff was handed out, carried quickly ashore, and in a few seconds they had planted it on Russian territory, with the tricolour streaming from its summit. Shakos were thrown up, and Vive l’Empereur! made the welkin ring. All this time the French were busily engaged lowering boats and running their men ashore. The French numbered about 25,000, and the English of all arms about 27,000. The French landed very quickly, and the moment they reached the shore they ran about like antelopes until they were assembled and formed into skirmishing parties, for fear of the enemy being in ambush; but none appeared, save a small knot of Cossacks on a high, rocky hill about a mile off. These Cossacks formed the escort of an officer who had evidently been sent from Sebastopol to ascertain the strength of our force, which they did not think it prudent to oppose on landing. A shell or round shot from the fleet, or a rifle ball or two from the deck of a man-of-war, would have scattered the party; but our officers, ever busy with their glasses, were anxious to gratify their curiosity. Sir George Brown and General Airey were amongst the first of our officers to land, and with a picket of riflemen some distance in their rear, they pushed on to reconnoitre for camping-ground. The generals were on foot, and never dreamt of the enemy being so near as they ascended the hill, behind whose crest the Cossacks were lying in ambush, having seen them some distance from and isolated from their escort of riflemen. The whole affair was seen from the decks of many of the vessels, that of the Himalaya being crowded with officers and men of the 8th Hussars and 17th Lancers. The officer in command of the Cossacks dismounted, and his men followed his example. Walking and crouching behind their horses, they approached the two generals, who, the instant they saw the danger, turned and ran down the hill, the Cossacks throwing themselves into their saddles, and flourishing their long lances, preparing to pursue. Their career was, however, cut short, as the riflemen suddenly rose up and fired upon them; but the distance was too far, or the aim too bad to be effective, for no saddles were emptied, and the party rapidly disappeared behind the hill amidst a cloud of dust. We afterwards heard that one of the peasants had been wounded by the fire of the rifles while at work with his team on an adjacent farm.