Presently the reconnoitring cavalry came in sight of the defeated Russian army, which had evidently encamped for the night on a river which the English afterwards found was named the Katcha. It was clear that the alarm had been given, for on the north side of the river cavalry and artillery could be seen trotting rapidly away, while strings of infantry and baggage all mixed up together streamed along after them. The troops still on the British side of the river were straining every effort to get across, for it was plain they imagined the handful of Lancers they saw was but the advanced guard of the British army.
On the little bridge a terrible jam had taken place. Men, horses, wagons were all mixed up in an inextricable mass, and it was clear to Jack that the army beneath him was only a panic-stricken mob. Men could be seen using whips, officers the flats of their swords, while a confused murmur of voices ascended to the hills. Hundreds of Russians, throwing away the heaviest part of their kit, could be seen dashing into the river and wading across, joining their countrymen on the other side in their mad rush for Sebastopol. The Alma had been a terrible lesson!
Captain Norreys with one or two other officers dismounted and surveyed the scene through their glasses.
Jack was holding their horses.
His captain looked long and earnestly at the scene below him, then said in regretful tones, ‘What a mistake we’re making, lying inactive on the Alma with a beaten foe but a few miles from us! With a dozen squadrons and a horse-battery I’d engage that not one of those Russians ever entered Sebastopol.’
The reconnoitring party ate the rations they had with them, and, having seen the last of the Russians cross the bridge, returned to their camp. They found every one available busy tending the wounded and burying the dead—English, French, and Russian—and a melancholy task it was. In the battle fell 5709 Russians, 2002 British, and 560 French. As Jack rode over the battlefield he closed his eyes to shut out the terrible sights.
The sailors from the vessels were invaluable, and handled the wounded with all the gentleness of women. Many of the poor fellows had to be carried fully four miles to the shore; but despite that more than a thousand were got aboard.
In regimental orders that day there were several surprises for Jack. He found he was promoted corporal ‘for distinguished service rendered at the skirmish on the Bulganak,’ and Sergeant Linham was to be ‘acting trumpet-major,’ while Trumpet-major Joyce was named as orderly to Lord Raglan.
This was very pleasant news to Jack, and that day he took an opportunity of sending home a few lines; telling his mother of the battle and assuring her of his safety, informing her of his promotion but making no mention of the gallant deed by which he had earned it. ‘It’s the first step on the ladder,’ said Jack to himself that night as he surveyed his corporal’s stripes. ‘If ever I live to get home I hope to add a third stripe to these two.’