My squadron was nearly annihilated before we reached the Russian battery, every officer being either killed or wounded. Myself and horse had been knocked down once and my lance shot away. After our passing through and silencing the guns my first thought was to look for directions from an officer, and I rode to Lieut. E. L. Jarvis, still living I believe a retired Major, of the 13th Light Dragoons, as his uniform was so nearly like that of the 17th Lancers, that I first thought he belonged to my regiment. Lieut. Jarvis pointed to a cannon that was being taken off at a gallop towards our right rear, and said, “Let’s capture that gun.” We immediately charged upon it. Jarvis shot one of the horses in the head, bringing it to a stop. I cut down the gunners with my sword. We both dismounted and took out the dead horse, when more stragglers of the Brigade came to our assistance. Private John Smith, C Troop, 17th Lancers, now living in London, mounted one of the horses to the gun carriage and we started off the field with it when a large body of Cossacks charged upon us completely surrounding us. I fought my way through and was pursued down the valley by seven of them into a body of Russian Hussars re-forming. I had no alternative but to charge through their line, which I did, an officer striking my head with the sword, my lance hat saving my head except for a bad bruise. A brigade of Russian Hussars were retreating down the valley pursued by about forty of our men. I rode from the right flank to the left flank of the rear rank calling to the men to fall back. Private Clifford of my troop rode into the column and was cut to pieces before my eyes. The Hussars came about and we were then between two large bodies of cavalry, one marching up the valley, the other down, so that the few of our Brigade who were farthest beyond the Russian guns were now completely hemmed in by a great body of Russians. At this critical moment, when there was no officer to command us and we were apparently lost, I beg leave to introduce the words of a comrade still living describing my conduct.

J. W. Wightman, late 17th Lancers, in Nineteenth Century, May, 1892.—“We heard the familiar voice of Corporal Morley, of our regiment, a great, rough, bellowing man from Nottingham. He had lost his lance hat, and his long hair was flying out in the wind as he roared, ‘Coom ’ere! coom ’ere! Fall in, lads, fall in!’ Well, with shouts and oaths he had collected some twenty troopers of various regiments. We fell in with the handful this man of the hour had rallied to him, and there joined us also under his leadership Sergeant-Major Ranson and Private John Penn, of the 17th. Penn, a tough old warrior who had served with the 3rd Light in the Sikh war, had killed a Russian officer, dismounted, and with great deliberation accoutred himself with the belt and sword of the defunct, in which he made a great show. A body of Russians blocked our way. Morley, roaring Nottingham oaths by way of encouragement, led us straight at them, and we went through and out at the other side as if they had been made of tinsel paper. As we rode up the valley, pursued by some Hussars and Cossacks, my horse was wounded by a bullet in the shoulder, and I had hard work to push the poor beast along. Presently we were abreast of the Infantry who had blazed into our right as we went down; and we had to take their fire again, this time on our left. Their firing was very impartial; their own Hussars and Cossacks following close on us suffering from it as well as we. Not many of Corporal Morley’s party got back.”

After Wightman fell I kept a group together through the battery, again in position and then ordered them to separate for safety. Private James Cope died in India, and James McGregor, 4th Light Dragoons, since dead, reported to our regiment with me. We were the last to get back to the regiment.

The names of Cope and McGregor are appended to my first application, 17th October, 1856.

Second as to the battle of Inkerman:—

At the battle of Inkerman, November 5th, Cornet Cleveland was mortally wounded. He fell from his horse in front of me just as the regiment was ordered to retire. After we had retired some distance I rode to the commanding officer of the regiment and asked to be allowed to fall out to go back for Cornet Cleveland. He told me to go to the Sergeant-major and tell him to send two men to assist me. He told his brother James O’Hara and went himself. In the act of carrying Cornet Cleveland off the field, both James O’Hara and myself had our dress hats shot off our heads by a cannon ball. I annex a letter from Lord Tredegar, commanding officer, in support of this statement:—

Terdegar Park, Newport, England,
April 6th, 1889

Morley,

I remember quite well that on the field of Inkerman you asked permission to fall out to go and try and bring in Cornet Cleveland, who had been seriously wounded a short time previously. I gave you permission and you went with two other men, and brought Cornet Cleveland into camp. I also know that you displayed great gallantry in the Light Cavalry charge at Balaclava.

Yours sincerely,
TREDEGAR,
Late Captain 17th Lancers.

Bringing out of the thickest of the fire, Cornet Cleveland, mortally wounded.