[179]. Light Division orders by Lieut.-General Sir George Brown, dated 16th April, 1855, taken from Captain Owen’s report to Major-General Jones two days earlier.
[180]. Some young officers—sportive yet enterprising—hearing of the nearness of the Russians to our works, paid a visit to the lodgment, bringing with them loaded soda-water bottles prepared with fuzes. As occasion served they lighted these improviséd grenades, and threw them among the enemy’s riflemen in the pit. The effect was to increase the fire on the sappers and retard the work. In self-defence the sergeant was compelled to report the annoyance, and the General of the trenches gave orders that none should enter the pits except on duty.
A Polish refugee, belonging to a fusilier regiment, also came to the screen under the auspices of the young officers aforesaid. A hole was made for him to speak through, and addressing the Russians in their own language, his jargon was discourteously treated with laughter and a few angry shots. Renewing the interview the fusilier, after saying some extravagant things to induce the riflemen to desert, concluded by intimating “they were great fools to remain where they were.” Another volley was the result of this candid but indiscreet communication; and of course the Pole was forthwith expelled from the trench.
[181]. This suggests the mention of a brief conversation which occurred one day between Colonel Shadforth and lance-corporal Jenkins. “How is it,” asked the Colonel, “that so few sappers die?” “They hav’nt time,” replied the corporal; “there’s too much work for them to do in the trenches!” A stiff glass of grog from the officer’s canteen was the result of Jenkins’s rejoinder, which would have been strictly true, had the question been asked with respect to the primitive state of the sapper camp.
[182]. Sir John Burgoyne in letter to the ‘Times,’ May, 1855.
[183]. The means taken to preserve the engineer mules was referred to in the Second Report of Sir John McNeill and Colonel Tulloch to the War Minister, as an instance of what other troops might have done had they exercised common “promptitude or ingenuity.” It afterwards became a vexed question, and a Court of Enquiry, conducted by seven distinguished General Officers, sat for many weeks at Chelsea Hospital, to ascertain, among other matters, whether any blame was fairly attributable to the officers in chief command for neglecting the use of expedients to save the horses. The enquiry terminated fully exculpating the officers.
[184]. Gunner Burke, of the royal artillery, also assisted in repairing an embrasure under the heaviest fire in No. 14 battery of the right attack, and Lord Raglan rewarded him, like the sappers, with a present of two sovereigns.
[185]. Unexceptionable as a sapper and an Ajax in strength and stature, Smale was nevertheless a grumbler by nature. This trait in his character was well-known to both officers and non-commissioned officers; and as in this state he invariably worked the hardest, it became a habit with many to endeavour to provoke his indignation. One day Lieutenant Graves, who was afterwards killed at the siege, felt it no compromise of position—the intercourse between officers and subordinates in war being more easy and unrestrained than in peace—to question in a jesting manner the usefulness of the second company. This was a subject he knew would ruffle Smale’s plume. “Look here,” said he, addressing the growler, “I have heard you boasting of the sapper qualifications of the second company, but from what I have seen of the men belonging to it, I can’t say much in their favour.” “Eugh!” mumbled Smale, clutching his pick and shovel, “the second company took Bomarsund, and you couldn’t take Sebastopol without it.” So saying he walked into an embrasure, and with the coolest activity patched up its shattered cheeks. This was the way poor Smale dealt out repartee. His retorts were all harmless, but usefully demonstrative.
[186]. Borbidge was never sick during the siege. For eight or ten days he was at Sinope collecting timber for huts. With this exception he was never from the front. But few sappers were oftener on duty than he, for his good health and usefulness passed him into the trenches seldom less than six times a week. It is melancholy to add, that this fine soldier was drowned on the 6th December, 1856, at Rochester, when employed in the demolition of the old bridge. The wind was squally, and while crossing a plank in a heavy French great coat, a sudden gust carried him into the eddying river among the shore piles. He was an excellent swimmer, and as soon as he had got his head above water, called lustily for a rope; but, before it could be thrown to him, or boats could push to his assistance, he was borne away by the current and sank about sixty yards from the bridge.
[187]. ‘United Service Magazine,’ September 1856, p. 23.