Brave British soldiers and the Victoria Cross / a general account of the regiments and men of the British Army, and stories of the brave deeds which won the prize "for valour"

by Unknown

Commander George Fiott Day, R.N., reconnoitering within the Enemy’s Lines at Genitchi.

Captain Day was not ignorant of the danger of attempting this reconnoissance. About a month before, Captain L’Allemand, of the French steam-vessel Mouette, had done so, and failed. He not only lost his own life, but several of the sailors who accompanied him were killed. Captain Day had the sagacity to perceive that this disaster was the result of the Frenchman’s imprudence. He had taken with him some twenty of his men—a force too small to offer any effectual resistance in the event of discovery, and too numerous to be able to escape detection. It occurred to him that one man might succeed where twenty had failed; but where was that man to be found? No one could hope to succeed, unless he had the step of an Indian and the eye of a hawk. In his earlier days, Captain Day had learned to stalk the red-deer on the mountains of the North, and the acuteness of vision and stealthiness of tread he had thus acquired were now employed for the benefit of his country. It is not to be supposed that self is altogether forgotten in the hour of heroic self-devotion; promotion, the world’s applause, and Westminster Abbey are dimly present to the mind of the most unselfish of men when undertaking some daring enterprise. To secure the applause of his admiral and a step in the service may have weighed a little with Captain Day; but we are sure that the danger itself had a certain irresistible attraction to his mind. He waited anxiously for a night suitable for the attempt, and on the 19th of September he was enabled to take the bearings of the Russian gunboats from the mast-head of his ship; he was enabled at the same time to mark the exact position of the guard-houses on the spit. He then resolved to land as soon as it was dark, and to try to make his way across without being observed. Accordingly, as soon as evening set in, he put a couple of sailors in his smallest boat, and, taking a small pocket-compass, some matches, his double glasses, and revolver, he at once landed. He took the precaution to put his commission in his pocket, so that his rank might be recognised if he were taken prisoner. He landed on the beach abreast his own ship, and told the sailors to remain in the boat at a sufficient distance from land to be beyond the reach of the enemy’s fire, in the event of a surprise; they were to remain there and not to make any noise, whatever might happen, unless he hailed them to pull in.

It would be impossible to relate all the adventures of that night; suffice it to say that our hero did make his way across, after a long and wearisome journey, without being detected. He passed through many of the enemy’s pickets, which, as he had anticipated, were few, and widely scattered. He was thus enabled to have a good view of the Russian gunboats, which he found were moored close to the shore, and likely to remain in that position. The idea occurred to him that they could easily be surprised, as they were very slightly armed, and no attack was expected by the enemy. Nothing, however, could be done without the sanction of Captain Osborne, and our hero had reluctantly to retrace his steps. He reached the beach about two o’clock in the morning, after tramping about among bogs and morasses for more than seven hours, and found his boat all safe. He was in constant danger of detection, in consequence of the numerous water-fowl with which the lagoons abounded being disturbed by his approach, and thus putting the sentries on the alert; but his old deer-stalking habits stood him in good stead: he was not discovered.

On the following day Captain Osborne arrived, and Commander Day communicated to him all that he had witnessed during the previous night. It was fortunate that in Osborne he had a leader quite as bold and daring as himself, who entered warmly into his plans, and admitted that the attempt might be crowned with success. He received from him the promise that, if an expedition were sent, he should take part in it—an assurance which afforded him much satisfaction. On the following day Captain Osborne was obliged to leave, and Commander Day, on cruising along the coast, observed that the enemy appeared to be as numerous as ever. It occurred to him, as he anchored for the night off his old anchorage, that it would never do to allow the expedition to be undertaken with so many of the enemy scattered about, as it would only end in disaster and the capture or slaughter of all who took part in it. To prevent such a calamity, he resolved to make another reconnoissance. After the statement he had given to Osborne about the number of the enemy, he felt that a great responsibility rested upon himself, and that it was far better to expose his own life to danger a second time than involuntarily to cause the loss of many valuable lives. None but a gallant and good man would have reasoned thus, or incurred so great a danger. He determined, therefore, to land at once, in order to ascertain the real strength of the enemy, and thus be enabled to report to Captain Osborne whether it would be advisable to undertake the expedition. He felt it to be his duty to do this, as he had led him to believe that the enemy’s forces were far less numerous than they now appeared to be.

Accordingly, employing the same tactics as before, he landed at sunset. The night was bitterly cold, and so intensely dark that he had to grope his way at every step. He soon discovered that he was off the right track, and more deeply involved among the Russian sentries than was at all pleasant or desirable; but he never for a moment lost his presence of mind, and it was to this cause that he owed his safety. He crept along with all the stealthiness of a Red Indian, stopping every moment, and feeling his way at every step. He soon saw enough to satisfy him that the enemy’s forces were far too numerous to admit of the possibility of their being captured or surprised. There was no help for it; the expedition must be abandoned, and he must try to reach his vessel in safety. This was no easy undertaking; if it was difficult to advance, it was still more difficult to retreat. The place was full of quagmires and pits, into which he repeatedly fell, and, to add to other delightful sensations, more than one ball came whizzing past his ears in such close proximity as to be far from pleasant. It was his impression at the moment that the sentries had discovered him and were firing at him; but he was satisfied afterwards that this was not the case. They were only firing in accordance with their usual custom, to show that they were on the alert, and thus avert the attack they dreaded.

After nine hours’ wandering he reached the beach, and the sight of the blue waves must have been as grateful to him as the first glimpse of the ocean to the Ten Thousand Greeks in their retreat. But his dangers were not yet at an end: he looked everywhere for his boat, but it could not be seen; he waded up to the waist in the water, and, putting his mouth close to its surface, so as to veil the sound, he shouted to them to come in. There was no answer. In his desperation he drew his pistol from his belt, and, placing it close to the water, fired. It did not strike him at first that this act was more likely to attract the attention of the enemy than that of the men in the boat; but as soon as he heard the report of the pistol he was alive to the extent of the danger which he had incurred through his imprudence. His safety lay in the proximity of his own vessel, which was so close to the beach that the Cossacks could not approach the shore without being under range of her guns. It was a fearful position to be placed in. He was shivering with cold, his feet were benumbed, and his clothes saturated with wet. Overpowered with fatigue and half-dead with exposure, he threw himself down on the beach and prayed earnestly for the dawn. It was one of those hours which may concentrate in themselves more than the agony of a whole lifetime. Such hours are never forgotten in after-life, and are often the starting-point of a new existence. But we need not dwell upon those weary hours that preceded the dawn. A little before daylight, Mr. W. H. Parker, an officer of Commander Day’s vessel, pulled in along shore to see if he could see anything of one who, it was feared, was either dead or in the hands of the enemy. He found him prostrate on the beach, and nearly frozen to death. But such men have a wonderful tenacity of life. He soon recovered sufficiently to inquire why his men had not pulled in when he hailed them. It appeared that they had heard the report and seen the flash of his pistol, but thought it might have been some of the sentries near the beach. They imagined that they heard him approach the shore, but thought that they were carrying out his instructions in not approaching nearer to the land, as he had told them that in the event of his being chased he would swim out to the boat. They listened and watched, but as they heard nothing more they imagined that he had not come down. The following morning he was too ill to move. A less powerful frame would have succumbed under the physical suffering of that night. Captain Osborne, who had returned, visited him the same day on board his ship, and persuaded Captain Day to address to him that despatch which elicited a letter of approval from the Admiralty and earned for him the Victoria Cross.

Captain Day was, undoubtedly, the only man in England who felt any surprise when his sovereign conferred on him this proof of her favour. It has been cynically remarked that no man is a hero in the eyes of his valet. It is certain that no true hero is ever esteemed to be so by himself. There is a glorious absence of all self-consciousness in true genius and heroism. The man whom the whole world admires is often the least conscious of his own merits.