The Three Commanders

by William Henry Giles Kingston

He had just passed Lord Cardigan when a shell burst close to him, and his horse, wheeling suddenly, dashed back towards the advancing ranks. At the same moment, his sword falling from his hand, while his arm remained extended, a fearful shriek, unlike anything human, burst from him, and his horse passing between the 13th Light Dragoons, he at length fell to the ground a lifeless corpse. If, as it seems certain, his object had been to point out the direction the cavalry were to charge, Lord Cardigan took no notice of it, but continued on right down the valley towards the Russian guns and masses of Russian horsemen at its eastern end.

“Good heavens! they will be annihilated!” exclaimed Jack. “Where are they going?”

Well might he have said that, for in a short time from the heights on either side the Russians began to pour down showers of shot and shell and rifle balls upon the devoted band. Many were seen to drop; riderless horses came galloping back, some falling in their course, others uttering cries of agony from the wounds they had received. Here and there human forms could be distinguished, some lying in the quiet of death, others writhing on the ground or endeavouring to drag themselves back up the valley.

Now the guns in front sent forth their deadly missiles, filling the air with dense clouds of smoke, into which the cavalry charged with headlong speed.

While the Light Brigade was thus rushing on apparently to utter destruction, the heavy cavalry was advancing, following Lord Lucan.

“Can he be going to lead them to the destruction to which he has consigned the light cavalry?” exclaimed one of the naval officers.

“Thank Heaven, no,” observed Jack; “they have had a taste already of what they would have to go through. See, they’ve halted; though why he does not lead them up to attack the Russians on his right I cannot make out.”

The heavy cavalry had already lost several men under the withering fire to which they had been exposed during the few minutes their advance had lasted, and they were now compelled to remain inactive while the action was going forward, as their brethren of the light cavalry had been in the morning. It was pretty evident that Lord Lucan could not be aware of the enemy on his right, or he would at once have found ample work for his heavy horsemen. At this juncture a portion of the French cavalry, the famous regiment D’Allonville, was observed to be moving forward, sweeping round the western base of the Fedoukine Hills, up which they charged, rushing forward as fast as the uneven nature of the ground would allow them at the Russian infantry and artillery which had so long been posted there. As they approached, the artillery limbered up and galloped off to the eastward, while the infantry quickly retreated, though not till many of the gallant Frenchmen’s saddles had been emptied.

Several minutes of awful suspense had passed away since the last of the red line of light cavalry had been seen rushing into the cloud of smoke. The guns which had dealt death into their ranks had ceased to roar; but what had become of them or of the brave horsemen it was impossible to say. At length here and there a single horseman was seen moving slowly back, he or his charger sorely wounded. Now more and more appeared, several, alas! being seen to drop as they retired; the whole centre of the valley, as far as the eye could reach, being strewed with the bodies of men and horses. As the cloud of smoke cleared off, a dark mass only could be discerned in the distance, the glitter of sword-blades and the confused murmur of voices which came up the valley alone indicating that the fight was still raging, sounds ever and anon of musketry being added to it.

At length the numbers of those who were coming up the valley increased; among them appeared the tall form of their leader, he and his horse uninjured. Then came larger parties, followed again by single horsemen and men on foot, still exposed to the fire from the causeway. Presently a number of Cossacks came galloping after the fugitives, spearing some and taking others prisoners; but just then the Russian guns on the Causeway Ridge again opened, and the Cossacks were compelled to abandon the pursuit, many of those whom they had surrounded making their escape. The naval officers now rode back to the slope at the foot of the Chersonese, on which considerable groups had assembled, and towards which the gallant men who had come out from amid that valley of death were now collecting. The officers were speaking eagerly together; surgeons who had hurried down were attending to the wounded; several parties were on their way into the valley to endeavour to bring in those who were on the ground still, unable to move.