The first villa they came to was the residence of a country surgeon. It had been ruthlessly destroyed by the Cossacks. A veranda, laden with clematis, roses, and honeysuckle, was filled with broken chairs and tables. All the glass of the windows was smashed. There lay on the grass outside the hall-door two side-saddles, a parasol, and a big whip. The wine-casks were broken and spilt; the barley and corn of the granary were tossed about; broken china and glass were scattered over the floors; and amid all the desolation and ruin of the place a cat sat blandly on the threshold, winking her eyes in the sunshine at the new-comers. The scene within was awful. The beds had been ripped open, and the feathers littered the rooms a foot deep; chairs, sofas, bookcases, pictures, images of saints, needlework, bottles, physic-jars, all smashed or torn, lay in heaps in every room. Even the walls and doors were hacked with swords. It was as if the very genius of destruction had been at work and had revelled in mischief. Every other house and villa that they passed was a similar scene to this. Grand pianos and handsome pieces of furniture covered with silk and velvet, rent to pieces with brutal violence, were found in the larger houses.
The houses consist of one story only, size being gained by lateral extension. Each house has a large patch of vineyard round it. A porch covered with vines protects the entrance. They learnt from a deserter that the natives were hiding because they expected to be shot; also, that the Russians in their retreat had been seized with panic in the night, and had rushed off pell-mell; indeed, the state of the roads favoured this, for they were littered with linstocks, cartridges, and caps all the way. Our soldiers now fared on the richest of grapes and the choicest pears, but they were not allowed to waste or plunder.
September 25.—On the march to Balaklava they got near the enemy. They proved to be the baggage-guard of a large detachment. A few rounds, a cavalry charge, the Rifles in skirmishing order, and they broke, leaving baggage of every description strewed over the ground for two miles.
This was fair and lawful plunder, and the troops were halted and allowed to take what they liked and what they could carry. The officers presided over it to see that there was no quarrelling. Immense quantities of wearing apparel, dressing-cases, valuable ornaments, and jewellery were found in the carts.
A Russian artillery officer, found in one of the carriages, was in a very jovial mood, beside an empty champagne bottle. Fine winter cloaks, lined with fur, were found in abundance. This plunder put our soldiers in great good-humour, and they marched on the whole day in excellent spirits.
As the baggage was some miles behind, Lord Raglan had to put up in a miserable little lodge, while his staff slept on the ground in a ditch outside.
Not the smallest attempt was made by the enemy to annoy the English during this march to Balaklava; but we could have been greatly harassed by the smallest activity on their part. The march lay through woods, along bad and often precipitous roads, and a few trees felled at intervals could have stopped our army for hours. We had, it seems, taken the Russians by surprise, and they showed themselves quite destitute of resources.
“Balaklava, September 24.—I never was more astonished in my life,” writes Sir W. Russell, “than when I halted on the top of one of the numerous hills of which this part of the Crimea is composed, and looking far down, saw under my feet a little pond, closely shut in by the sides of high, rocky mountains. On this pond floated six or seven English ships, for which exit seemed quite hopeless. The bay is like a highland tarn. It is long ere the eye admits that it is some half-mile in length from the sea, and varies from 250 to 120 yards in breadth. The shores are so steep and precipitous that they shut out the expanse of the harbour, and make it appear much smaller than it really is.
“Towards the sea the cliffs close up and completely overlap the narrow channel which leads to the haven, so that it is quite invisible.
“On the south-east of the poor village which straggles between the base of the rocky hills and the margin of the sea there are extensive ruins of a Genoese fort, built some 200 feet above the level of the sea, all crumbling in decay—bastion and tower and wall. A narrow defile leads to the town. A few resolute men posted here might have given great trouble to a large army.”