[CHAPTER IV]
On the morning of, September 23 the allied armies left their position on the Alma, and after a march of about seven miles arrived at the Katcha, meeting with no opposition, and on the following day reached the Belbec, a small stream within a short distance of Sebastopol. From our pickets on the heights we could see the harbour and their line-of-battle ships at anchor.
Hitherto the intention of the allies had been to attack the forts on the north side, but the plans were suddenly altered, chiefly in consequence of the recommendation of Sir John Burgoyne. In a very able memorandum, written the day after the Alma, he pointed out in the first place, that the city of Sebastopol, with its docks, wharves, reserve armaments and stores—in fact, its chief resources—were on the south side of the harbour, and that the land defences there were imperfect and incomplete. In the second place, that the harbours of Kameisch and Balaclava would give the allied forces a safe base of operations, and free communication with the fleet, whereas on the north they had only the sea shore to rely on. Under these circumstances he recommended the abandonment of the north altogether, and establishing ourselves to the south of the city. The strategical advantages of this course were apparent, and the plan was adopted, and on September 25 the flank march began, the English army leading off, and proceeding for some miles in a south easterly direction through the woods. I remember when the Duke of Cambridge received the order to march south-east through the forest, he remarked that he had received many orders in his day, but that was the first time he had ever marched by compass.
It so happened that on the same morning Prince Menschikoff, ignorant of our sudden change of plan, was moving a considerable force inland from Sebastopol, in order to take the allies in flank, and as we emerged from the woods on the open ground at Mackenzie's farm, our advanced troops suddenly ran into the rear guard of the Russians. In fact, both the opposing armies were making a flank march at the same time, and the head of one came into collision with the tail of the other. Both sides were taken unawares, but some of our cavalry and Maude's troop of Horse Artillery at once pursued and captured a few prisoners and a considerable number of waggons, with ammunition, supplies, and baggage. This unexpected encounter must have rather mystified the enemy; but Lord Raglan, knowing that his forces were scattered for some miles on a long thin line, pushed on, and towards sunset the Light and First Divisions reached the bridge over the Chernaya on the road leading to Balaclava, and bivouacked for the night.[6]
The following morning the march was resumed across the plain for two or three miles to Balaclava, that small fishing village, with its land-locked harbour scarcely larger than a dock, which was destined to be the British base throughout the war. As the staff and leading troops approached the village, a deputation of the inhabitants came out bearing bread and salt as a token of submission. Almost at the same time a gun was suddenly fired from the ruins of the old castle on the heights, and a shell splashed into the marshes close by, followed by another. Lord Raglan, through an interpreter, asked the deputation the reason of this unexpected demonstration, as bread and salt and bursting shells seemed inconsistent with each other; but the only explanation they could give was that the small garrison had not been formally summoned to surrender. The troops of the Light Division at once swarmed up the heights, and half of C troop of Horse Artillery, under Brandling, came into action; the other half I took, by Lord Raglan's orders, up the steep hill overlooking the castle. Just as we got into action, the 'Agamemnon,' with Admiral Sir Edmund Lyons, arrived off the harbour, and the small garrison, finding themselves under a converging fire from three sides, hoisted a white handkerchief on a pole in token of surrender. Their armament consisted of four antiquated brass mortars. The commandant, an old Greek colonel, had been wounded in the foot, and was carried down to Balaclava, where he met the staff who had just ridden in. The commandant's wife, on seeing her husband's condition, rushed out of her house in a flood of tears, fell on his neck, and kissed him repeatedly. Lord Raglan, however, spoke kindly and reassured her. In the meantime some Russian ladies who had left Sebastopol and taken refuge in Balaclava, terrified by our sudden arrival, crossed the harbour in a small boat in the vain hope of escape. Accompanied by another officer I followed them across, and we tried to reassure them. Knowing nothing of their language this was a difficulty. We tried 'Buono, Russ buono,' but it was not sufficient. Fortunately, at length we found one who spoke a little French, and then they became comforted and returned with us to the village, and were taken care of. Such was the capture of Balaclava.
Many years after, in 1872, on re-visiting the Crimea with the late Colonel Charles Gordon of Khartoum, we found that the old commandant (Colonel Mammoo) was still alive, being over eighty, and we called on him. He was much pleased to see us and to talk over old days, and said that he should never forget the kindness he had received from the English when a prisoner of war. The officers and men of the navy in the man-of-war which took him to Constantinople treated him, he said, like a prince.
In the meantime the condition of Marshal Saint-Arnaud had become critical, and on September 25 he resigned the command of the French army, and was succeeded by General Canrobert, who was then forty-five years of age. Saint-Arnaud embarked at Balaclava on board the 'Berthollet,' and was visited by Lord Raglan and Sir Edmund Lyons. He was then almost at the point of death, and his last words to Lord Raglan were: 'Je vous suivrai toujours par la pensée.'[7] He died on board on September 29.
At the end of September the allied armies took up their position on the plateau in front of Sebastopol, the French on the left with their base at Kameisch; Lord Raglan establishing his head quarters at a farm house.
