It is not often that men who have but little hope of distinction before them, voluntarily undertake a supererogatory service, in venturing which is likely to subject them to the penalties of martial law. Such however was the case with private John Bowman of the first company who was of great height and strength, intrepid and useful. He had been sentry over the tools in the quarries; but when the signal for the advance was given he quitted his post without orders. In passing to the front he saw Captain Sedley of the engineers in the fifth parallel severely wounded. Tendering his assistance he placed his strong arm round the body of the captain and holding him up by the waist-belt supported him to the rear, where he left him in care of a few men who bore him to the camp. Impatient to share in the assault, he now ran through the trenches, and on his way to the Redan accoutred himself with the arms and appointments of a slain linesman. With all haste he joined Lieutenant Ranken and ascended the parapet, where, after firing for a time and throwing heavy stones with his strong arm at any Russians who dared to show themselves; he was killed. He fell on the crest of the work and then pitched headlong into the ditch followed by a mass of earth which crushed him beneath it.
That so few casualties occurred among the sappers of the storming party is attributable to the manner in which Lieutenant Ranken directed the placement of the ladders. More serious however were the casualties in the batteries and parallels. Those struck in the trenches were—
Lance-corporal John Fulton[[196]]—wounded severely in the left hand by the splinter of a shell, whilst in the fifth parallel.
Private William Brine—killed in front of the 21-gun battery. Was struck in both arms, and also disembowelled.
” Edward Lewis—right arm shot off—amputation was performed in the trenches, and repeated a few days after in the camp. Died 18th September.
” John Gregory—wounded dangerously in the back. Died 17th Sept.
” Jesse Head—wounded severely in the back.
The assault having failed, Captain Montagu, who was in command of the royal engineer department for the day, employed in the afternoon the sappers and working party at his disposal, in continuing the right advance sap in the direction of a rifle pit which this day’s operations had embraced in the British circumvallation. So wearied and stricken were the Russians by their exertions and losses that they permitted the approach to proceed unmolested.
In the night of the 8th no sappers were told off to the left attack, but thirty-six non-commissioned officers and men were distributed to the lines on the right. Three sappers in charge of one hundred men of the 42nd Highlanders were thrown into the right advanced sap and prolonged it by staking and filling one hundred gabions, in which they were only slightly interrupted by the enemy. The remainder of the brigades and working parties bustling among the parallels and batteries, repaired the embrasures, merlons, and platforms. Corporal John Ross was in charge of a party mending the embrasures of the quarry battery.
While these services were in progress fires broke out in several places in Sebastopol, and magazines blew up which cast at intervals over the doomed fortress a dismal glare of illumination, which was again deadened by clouds of thick smoke hanging heavily in the air. Conceiving that these were the throes of a general wreck, indications in fact of the desperation with which the enemy was resigning his stronghold, corporal John Ross who has more than once been noticed for his bravery at the siege, went forward to test the accuracy of his surmises and search for two missing sappers who had been left behind in the retreat. It was a beautiful night, mild and starlight. Four or five explosions had just taken place, which in the corporal’s view were ominous of the grave events transpiring in the fortress. As it was not usual to interfere with the sappers in the trenches go where they would, Ross had no trouble to pass the pickets and sentries in the fifth parallel, and a few more paces found him in the last approach. An artillery officer was there looking earnestly over the parapet, but the corporal moved silently along stepping over the bodies of the wounded, who in numbers had crawled into the trench after the failure. Inquiring hastily whether they had observed any Russian pickets lately, he was told they had been withdrawn early in the night. “Have you seen any wounded sapper lying outside?” he asked. “One straight to the front under the abattis,” was the reply of an infantry man who had witnessed his struggles. With this information Ross went on. It was about a quarter-past twelve o’clock when he issued from the outlet of the sap and directed his course to the Redan. The dead were strewn thickly on the open, and the wounded were writhing helplessly. When near the abattis another mine was sprung in the fortress. Ross stopped, for the coolest minds in extreme danger hesitate to make an useless venture. The bursting of magazines and the blowing up of forts and fortifications impressed him with the necessity of caution; and lying still in a momentary reverie, he was again shook into activity by falling stones from the explosions. On his hands and knees over torn ground, cannon balls, fragments of shells, and decomposing remains, he crept noiselessly on. Under the abattis he found his comrade private Carswell and a sergeant of the rifles. The meeting in such a spot was hurried, but as cordial as friendship and imminent hazard could make it. A few interrogatories and answers were interchanged which verified the report relative to the withdrawal of the Russian outposts. “That’s well,” said Ross, calmly. “I’m going into the Redan, and if all goes right I shall be back directly and have you taken to camp.” With them Ross left his flask of rum and water, and moved away. “Thanks—God speed you!” reached his ears in whispers as he glided ahead cheered by the hope that Providence, which had hitherto miraculously saved him from hurt or harm, would extend to him in this adventure the same gracious protection. As the distance between him and the fortress lessened his daring increased, and without a tremor to disturb the firmness of his purpose, he found himself at the brink of the ditch. For a short time he lay and listened. Russians might have been there plundering the dead and alarming the dying, but not a soul was astir. Hearing nothing but the groans of the wounded, he slid into the fossé, clambered up the escarp by the ramp made during the storming, and entered the jaws of a broken embrasure on the right of the salient of the Redan. The gun was there but no artillerymen. Yet he pressed his ear in the direction of the interior to discover, if possible, the footsteps of the gunners or the sound of voices. All was silent, and with a burglar’s creep, soft and wary but determined, he gained the neck of the aperture. At either side he looked, but nothing started up to show that the batteries were occupied. He looked ahead with straining eyes and onwards; still, nothing could he see but huge broken works, and streams of light shooting from burning buildings. All indeed was quiet save the crackling timbers in the distance, the booming of mines and the falling of houses. The Redan, that furnace of the siege, was indeed deserted and desolate! Being alone and unarmed Ross did not descend into the place to invite a conflict with concealed prowlers; and so after keeping watch for a few minutes in the withered embrasure, he quitted the opening while tongues of lurid flame jetting from clouds of heavy smoke, enabled him to pick his way from the battery without treading on wounded men struggling in dissolution. Charged with the possession of important intelligence he ran across the open, recovering himself with strange celerity as he dropped into shell holes or tripped against obstacles that encumbered the ground; and moving with almost winged haste to the engineer hut, he reported, about a quarter to one o’clock, the result of his self-imposed mission to Captain De Moleyns of the engineers.