View source for Brett Volume 5: Chapter LIV - Hastings 1855

==Volume 5 - Chapter LIV - Hastings 1855==
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“And with the Thistle and the Rose and Lilies of fair France,
Their Shamrock green, old Erin’s sons, will boldly still advance;
They’ll give their war-cry as of old, when charging on the foe,
And ‘Faugh à Ballagh’, ring the knell of many a Russian foe.

“Peace to the slain! the crimson sod must yield their last repose,
No gentle mourner there may bend each dying eye to close!,
And yet an envied fate is there – a glorious rest they found –
For still the soldier’s sepulchre should be the battle ground.”













Lieutenant Harkness on the assault on the Redan and fall of Sebastopol.	
Mrs Harkness, of the Ivy House, Ore, received another letter from her son as follows:- “Camp near Sebastopol, 10th of September, 1855.”  “Sebastopol has fallen at last! Thank God, I am safe. On the afternoon of the 7th,  we received the order suddenly to get breakfast at 6 the next morning, and to parade at 7, with 2 days provisions ready cooked and, and 80 rounds of ammunition. We had been rather expecting this from certain well-known indications, such as sending away all the sick to Balaclava, to clear out the hospitals, and to our own batteries keeping up a terrific bombardment for two days. This portentous order, however, did not prevent R.... and myself keeping an engagement to dine of roast goose with L.... of the 4th, that evening. On the morning of the 8th we were up at six, and after breakfasting leisurely, fell in with our Haversacks of grub on, but no great coats. We then moved off to the place of assembly at the head of one of its ravines, where the troops of the Light and Second Divisions formed up. This kept us for an hour or more enveloped in clouds of dust and a high wind. General Codrington commanded the whole. Col. Windham was to lead the storming party of our division, composed of the 41st, 62nd, 55th and 30th Regiments. Col. Warren the reserves of the 95th, 47th and 49th Regiments. I forget the leaders of the Light division party. We moved down and occupied the most advanced trenches as near to the Redan as possible. The batteries, meanwhile kept up a most destructive fire on the enemy’s works. A more terrific and crushing fire I never saw during the whole of the siege. The enemy could hardly answer a single gun. Soon after 12 the French buglers sounded the advance, and suddenly there issued from their trenches men in thousands. The distance was so short from them to the Malakoff, that they were in the ditch and swarming up the parapet in one minute, the enemy having scarcely time to fire a shot from their guns. In twenty minutes the French were well established in the Malakoff, and the tri-colour waving over it; but the contest at Ouvrage’s Blancs and Little Redan, was more protracted, and they lost heavily there. About half-past twelve a white flag hoisted on the Mamelon, gave notice to the English to attack the Great Redan. Away went the stormers of the Light Division, closely followed by those of the Second. The enemy, of course, were well prepared for us, and had been firing grape at our trench from the beginning of the French attack. My company was the third from the front; and when it came to my turn I jumped up and over the parapet, and calling to my men to follow me close, and keep together, we rushed across the open ground. The distance from our trench to the Redan ditch – as since ascertained – was over 200 paces. The heavy fire of grape and musketry from the flanking batteries swept this space from both sides in a fearful storm, and our men fell rapidly from it. It was about ten feet deep and twenty or thirty feet across. I reached the ditch unhurt and slid down into it. The men here got mixed.. all regiments together. We crowded up the scaling ladders, which was very difficult to do, as many wounded were trying to come down by them. Once on the top slope, it was possible to stand without the ladders. All this time a fierce hand-to-hand fight was going on within. The parapet was very high inside, which made it extremely difficult for the men to get down, so that no sufficient body could be formed at once for a charge. The Russians had brought up a large force which occupied the interior defences and traverses, and kept up a murderous fire, which shot down our poor fellows as fast as they could get in. Those on the parapet kept up the heaviest possible fire on the Russians, but suffered terribly from the concentrated aim directed upon them in return. General Windham was most conspicuous, giving directions everywhere in the midst of the fire. Of ours, J. Hume, Roxby, Johson(sic), and myself were on the parapet near together. We held our position for nearly two hours, unable to advance against the crushing fire of the enemy, who not only occupied an extended and flanking position, but actually outnumbered us. Still we were unwilling to give up what we had gained. At length, the order to retire was given, and now came the most dreadful part of the business; for a retreat is always worse than an advance. Everyone was in such a hurry to get down the ladders, and we were so closely packed together, that the whole mass of men on the steep parapet overbalanced, and they fell together in the ditch, head-foremost. I shall never forget that horrible moment. Several hundred men fell headlong together, all with bayonets fixed or with drawn swords. Numbers must have been run through by falling on the bayonets and have had their limbs broke by the weight falling on them. It is miraculous to me how I escaped so well. I was at the top of the ladder, when I fell with the rest, so that I was not so much underneath the others. I turned aside several bayonets with my hands which nearly ran into me, my sword was wrenched out of my hand and I lost it. It was every one for himself at that moment. As we scrambled up the counterscarp, the Russians, who had charged back into the Redan, on the signs of our retiring, mounted the parapet and threw at us in the ditch, stones, grape-shot, muskets with fixed bayonets, live shells, and actually hatches(sic) and axes. We returned to our trenches through a fire of grape and musketry, which was now, if anything heavier than before, and the ground was thickly strewn with our killed and wounded. By God’s mercy I again crossed in safety. The only hurts I received are of a trifling nature – one on the left wrist, not deep, but a large piece of skin broken off by a bayonet in the fall; slighter grazes on my legs, and considerable stiffness of the whole body. A stone thrown by a Russian hit me on the head, but did not hurt much. The French continued to hold the Malakoff works, though heavy musketry was kept up there till dark. We got our regiment together as much as possible after reaching the trenches, but could only find four officers and about half the men. Poor Col. Cuddy was killed with a musket-ball passing through his neck and dividing his spine. Major Cure had his arm broken by a bullet, also J. Hume. R. Hume was rather severely peppered on one side with stones and gravel knocked up by a round shot. Richards has a severe contusion of the ankle from grape shot, Johnson a bayonet wound in the leg and bullet graze on the head; and Roseby contused by the fall. Out of ten officers of ours only two – Elton and Burke – escaped untouched. General Warren and his aide-de-camp , Morgan (both of ours) were hurt – the first with a wound on the back of the neck, and Morgan with his arm broken by a musket dashed against it by a round shot. Our regiment lost out of 420 men in action not fewer than 180 in killed and wounded; so you see it has been a very severely contested affair. Before dusk the Highland Division arrived from Tchernaya and relieved us in the trenches, upon which we returned to camp. During the night only a few guns were heard, but some tremendous explosions which shook the very earth; and I was awoke before daylight by a staff officer calling out to the adjutant that the Russians had blown up their works, that they were evacuating the place, and that the Brigade was to turn out immediately and march down. I was unable, from my hurts, to go, much to my disgust; so the regiment went off with the only three effective officers left. The Russians were off over the floating bridge, to the north side, having fired the town at all points and blown up their magazines. They found it impossible to maintain any longer the place which they had so stoutly defended for more than a year. You may imagine how delighted we were at this. All yesterday there was a series of explosions as the fire reached the magazines of the different forts. Fort Paul, a very handsome edifice, with three tiers of guns bearing on the harbour, blew up about 3 p.m., with a tremendous crash and is now a heap of rubbish. Those who were on guard in our trenches the night before, say, it was a splendid sight to see all the explosions and the fire breaking out. I was well enough yesterday evening to go up the hill to see the burning town. They sank all the remaining ships at the same time; of the boasted Sinope fleet not one remains. But they have got two or three steamers on the north side, and if they do not sink them also. I hope we shall do it for them. Today I rode down into the far-famed stronghold of Sebastopol. The French are allowed to go in and plunder as much as they like, but not so the English. Officers are stopped if not on duty; but I managed to get in and take a look at it. In my next letter I will tell you about the inside of the town. I was very much vexed to lose the sword my grandfather gave me, but it could not be helped. Once out of my hand in such a fearful meleé, it would have been certain death to stop and look for it. I picked up someone else’s sword directly after, which fits into my scabbard, so I am all right again. It seems so odd and quiet in camp now. This is the first day for exactly 261 days, that I have not heard a cannon shot. What a delightful change! We bury poor Cuddy to-day. The other wounded officers are doing well.”  “J. G. Harkness”

The Retreat of the Russians from Sebastopol

From the “Hastings and St. Leonards Penny Press”












Impromtu(sic) Lines by W. T. Weller
The following lines by W. T. Wellr(sic) were written on the Hastings cliff while the cannons were being fired to celebrate the successful assault on Sebastopol. [An apology is here offered for the liberty which has been taken to revise the same.]

			“Sebastopol is taken. Cheer, boys, Cheer!
			 Would that the Russian Czar had lived to hear
			 The welcome tidings, and remained to know
			 His own ambitious schemes had caused the blow!
			 Then when his giant fortresses had crumbled
			 Would not that his hauty pride had humbled?
			 But now, as Nicholas is dead and gone,
			 It useless seems to speculate upon
			 What, after this his feelings might have been;
			 Enough, that his successor will have seen
			 That serfdom, even at its very best,
			 Must strike its flag to soldiers of the west.
			 Still linked with Inkermann’s and Alma’s name,
			 And Balaklava’s is Britannia’s fame;
			 And now those words ‘Sebastopol is taken’,
			 The Muscovite’s security has shaken.
			 Exult we then, although with chastened pride, 			 
			 That victory has come to England’s side.
			 The ‘God of Battles’ has once more decreed
			 That in fair fight Britannia takes the lead.
			 The question is, will Russia sue for peace?
			 Or will defeat her recklessness increase?
			 If obstinate, more gallant men must die – 
			 More widows mourn – more guileless orphans cry.
			 One thing, however, seemingly is certain – 
			 The latest victory removes the curtain
			 Of Russia’s prestige, for she’s made to yield
			 To us and our allies by sea and field.
			 ‘Twill, peradventure, cause, at any rate,
			 Two Continental pow’rs to hesitate – 
			 Id est, the Austrian and Prussian States –
			 Before becoming Russia’s fighting mates.
			 In that alone a moral view is gained,
			 Which scarce could be while Russia’s flag remained
			 To still be flaunting its defiant roll
			 On frowning bastions of Sebastopol.
			 In every sense it needs must be believed
			 A glorious victory has been achieved – 
			 A victory complete – the fact is clear;
			 Sebastopol is taken! Cheer, boys, cheer!”

“Sebastopol – What Next?”
Under this heading, the Hastings and St. Leonards News of Oct 5th, had a sensibly written article in which it said:- “Suppose the English nation had listened to Mr. Gladstone, when three months ago, he counselled peace, on the plea that Russia’s humiliation was deep enough for the purpose contemplated, and that we had got everything by the war that we had a right to look for? Suppose we had then recalled our baffled armies from the still unconquered forts of Sebastopol and had allowed the mighty fleet of Russia to rest on the Euxine instead of under it, what would the world have said? what would the ‘neutrals’ have thought and what would have been the tenor of their speech? They would have said that we had shown by our expenditure of blood and bullion that we had set our heart on the capture of a place from which we retired only because we could not take it. They would have taunted us with having made a virtue of necessity, and of giving up the war on a plea of satisfied justice when in our hearts we knew that our spirit had deserted us, and that the strongest people in the world had turned recreant to their honour and their hopes. All men but ourselves would have said that Russia had beaten us; that we had made her Crimean stronghold the focus of our concentrated energy, as she had of her diffusive power, and that her might had overmatched our own. Thank God! the counsel was not taken. We were not doomed to the bitterness of seeing those rivers of blood shed utterly without any proportionate result. It would have been madness – nay even cruelty – to have turned nervelessly aside from the agony of the struggle when that agony was well nigh exchanged for conquest, - to have relinquished the full consummation of a long effort when that effort was on the verge of complete success! If the war ought to have been begun, it ought to be prosecuted steadfastly and at all risks with a higer(sic) purpose than just to show our teeth and run away, with an enemy remaining in the field to despise us for our cowardice and to profit by our imbecility. It is sad to think of war at all, but it is sadder to think of war begun with high resolve and noble aim, suddenly and weakly closed just as the crowning moment of victory was at hand. Sebastopol has fallen, and if terms be offered now, the world will at least admit that Russia must treat as the losing party. The prestige of the West is maintained – Russian hopes of pouncing upon Constantinople are postponed for a long time to come, and one step is gained towards a safer issue than the Peace Party could have ensured three months ago.”
More Letters.
Coeval with the above editorial, came another letter from the seat of war, written by John Whyborn, adding further items to those contained in Lieut Harkness’s interesting epistle previously received, and showing the part taken by the Naval Brigade. Under date of September 13th, the writer said – “Dear father and mother, - Glorious News! By the blessing of God I am now enabled to send you a few lines to let you know that Sebastopol is in the hands of the Allies. We captured it on the 8th and 9th of the month, and there is none of the Hastings chaps hurt. I must tell you that George Mantell goes on board tomorrow with all the Leander’s men, and we shall go on Monday next, so that I live in hopes of being home at Christmas. We opened a heavy cannonade on the 6th, and no one in our battery was hurt. On the 8th it was my turn again, and we commenced at 6 o’clock. At 12 the French attacked the Malakoff tower and caught the Russians by surprise, and so got in the tower, before the Russians were aware of it. As soon as the French flag flew on the tower, we attacked the Redan, and then they were just ready for us, and our poor soldiers got terribly cut up. We saw them falling six or seven at a time. The reason that we lost so many men was because the Russians were about six to one of ours they having all left the tower and retreated to the Redan. Our men were beaten back, and the Russians mounted the parapet to fire at them, but we mowed them down with our shot and shell. The next morning we were going to make another attack when they blew up their magazines; and when we got into the town we found they had evacuated it and gone to the north side after setting it on fire at several places. They had their batteries undermined and full of powder, whilst there was loose powder all over the place. On Sunday there were no fewer than thirty explosions, and they have continued more or less ever since. The night before last, our relief men went into the town close to the water’s edge, and began to build a battery of three guns to fire over to their steamers on the north side; for, they sank all their shipping except six steamers. In the morning as soon as they could see our battery, they set fire to and blew up four of those vessels, and so they have only two small ones left.”  “John Whyborn”

Of a still later date – namely Sept. 17th, another of Lieut Harkness’s interesting letters to his mother was written, and from which the following extracts are taken:- “I have been four or five times into the town. Out last furious bombardment seems to have reduced the enemy’s works to such a state as to be no longer tenable. It was with very great interest I examined the interior of the Redan and Malakoff works which have so long withstood us. We were all very much surprised at the tenacity with which they held on so long amidst such a mass of ruins. The labour it cost them must have been immense, to say nothing of their daily loss. Their bomb-proofs and magazines are splendidly constructed and of prodigious strength. The barracks are the finest I ever saw; the front towards  the harbour is very handsome and all of white stone, but they are completely riddled by our shot and shell. The Russians left all their knapsacks behind them in their flight. In a fine bakery in the barracks we found heaps of fresh brown bread and dough ready mixed for baking. In the stores are soldiers clothing, helmets, oil-cake (which they eat), butter, corn, &c. The dry docks are also very fine, and a steamer is burnt in one of them. Fort Paul is blown up and is only a loose heap of rubbish in the water. The English have the Karabelnaia part of the town, where the docks and the stores are, and the French the large part of the left. The main street appears to have been fine, of which the fronts of some handsome buildings are standing. But there is not a window and scarcely a roof in the whole town, everything being burnt or otherwise destroyed. Barricades are thrown across the streets, and mounted with guns. There are hundreds of new guns in the arsenal. French bands play in the town every evening; I heard one commenced to play ‘God save the Queen’. The 3rd Buffs are as yet the only English regiment quartered in the town. We are sometimes on fatigue down there, clearing out stores, &c. Last Wednesday I had a horrible job. From ten till sunset I was engaged in burying dead Russians. They were found dead of their wounds by hundreds in the large magazines used as hospitals. Some must have been dead for weeks, and were in a most horrible state. My party of 50 men unloaded four carts, and buried in two large holes 284 bodies. Some of my men were sick and kept applying to my brandy flask. We seemed to have as bad a job as had the buriers in the Plague of London. Two sailors came to me yesterday, and announced themselves as Reeves and Philpott, Hastings men; the former a son of Reeves, the broker; they belong to the Queen and London men-of-war, and have been working the siege batteries. They were well, and came to ask me if I had anything to send home, as they were going back in their ships immediately. I was glad of the opportunity and have sent you by Reeves, two Russian muskets complete with bayonet and rammers done up in one canvas; also a Russian helmet complete. He promised to carry them to the Ivy House, himself. I hope they will meet you safely.”  J. G. Harkness
Loss of Russian Seamen.
Le Nord, a Russian journal, said, out of 10,000 seamen who had undertaken the heroic defence of Sebastopol,, not more than a fourth part survived.
A Four-footed Hero
The Trieste Journal contained the following paragraph:- “Great sensation was created in the camp of the allies by the courageous conduct of a large dog belonging to Col. Metmam, of the 73rd Regt of French Infantry. On the 16th of August during the battle of the Tchernaya, the animal broke his chain and dashed into the fury of the affray, fighting in the ranks of the soldiers. He saved the life of a sergeant and a private of the regiment, and made three Russian prisoners. A ball grased(sic) his fore paw, but the smarting wound only made him more infuriated. He singled out a Russian officer and attacked him with ferocity, threw him down and dragged him as a prisoner to the French lines. A surgeon dressed his wound, and the four-footed hero is going on well. He will probably be decorated with a medal as a reward for his bravery” – [and sagacity.]
The Naval Brigade
The Naval Brigade landed on the 25th of October, 1854, and were at once set to the very onerous duty of dragging up the heavy siege guns to the batteries or to the parks of artillery in front. They carried up their own ammunition, provided themselves all through the winter with food, were their own commissariat, mounted their guns, repaired their own damaged embrasures, and were 24 hours on and 24 hours off duty, when the batteries were in play. During the siege the Naval Brigade served for 33 days of heavy bombardment and cannonade. Out of 1,400 men 31 died from sickness, 61 were killed, 21 mortally wounded, and 331 were more or less severely wounded. Total dead and wounded 447. The Hastings men were more fortunate than the average, and from the accounts received appeared to bear the strain better. 

“The Soldier of Sebastopol”
By William Holloway, Rye. Published in the South-Eastern Advertiser, Oct 12th, 1855.

“I climbed the rocky Alma’s height,
And I was present at the fight;
I saw the Guardmen charge the foe,
Saw streams of courage also flow;
Heard Royal Cambridge cheer his men,
Then saw them charge the foe again;
Beheld the routed Russians fly,
And heard the shouts of victory.

Chorus
They fought like heroes, great and small,
But I have seen what crowns it all,
The taking of Sebastopol.
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.

“I witnessed Balaklava’s fray,
(A ne’er to be forgotten day),
Where Scotchmen nobly led the van,
And then came dashing Cardigan,
Resolved to die ere he would run,
Charged to the muzzle of the gun
While Russian foemen could but gaze,
On chivalry of ancient days.

They fought like heroes great and small,
But I have seen what crowns it all,
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.

“Dark hung the heavy mists at night,
Enshrouding e’en the morning light,
When hark! the Russian cannons booming!
See muskets flashing through the glooming!
This is the fight of Inkermann,
Fought hand to hand and man to man.
Though chieftains mingled in the fray,
The soldiers won the palm that day.

They fought like heroes, great and small,
But I have seen what crowns it all,
The taking of Sebastopol.
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.

“I saw the fight at Tracktir Bridge,
The Russians pouring down the ridge,
And also o’er Tchernaya’s plain,
Whence many ne’er got back again;
Whilst to that fight Sardinia came,
Her young sword flashed and won a name,
And France came, too, inured to war,
And slew the soldiers of the Czar.

They fought like heroes, great and small,
But I have seen what crowns it all,
The taking of Sebastopol.
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.

“I saw the great Pellissier –
The marshal whom the French obey –
And Bosquet, too, a mighty name,
Borne on the role of deathless fame
Before whose firm, resistless power
Fell Malakoff’s proud threatening tower
And when I saw that fortress fall,
Then fell the doom’d Sebastopol.

They fought like heroes, great and small,
But I have seen what crowns it all,
The taking of Sebastopol.
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.

“Now that Sebastopol is won,
This soldier’s song is well nigh done;
But still I pause to shed a tear
O’er many a lifeless warrior bier;
Nor doth my sorrow cease to flow
E’en over that of St. Arnaud;
While heaves the heart of bitter sighs
Where the devoted Raglan dies.
For they were valiant warriors all
Though seeing not the greatest fall
When taken was Sebastopol.
For I was there; yes, I was there,
At taking of Sebastopol.”












The next letter from the Crimea – that by Alfred Bryant – while it supplies additional interesting items concerning Sebastopol, verifies all that Lieut. Harkness had previously said about the ruined town and the effect of the bombardment. In his letter, which was commenced on the 2nd of October and not finished till the 13th, he says – “Dear Brother and Sister. – I have managed to snatch a few moments to write to you; for we are very busy to prevent a repetition of last winter’s misery and disaster. We are employed from morning till night, not in the heart-breaking work of the trenches, but in building huts, making roads, &c., which is easy compared with the other. I have seen the account in the papers of the fall of Sebastopol and of the rejoicing in England on the receipt of the  news. I also saw Prince Gortschakoff’s account in which he states that he left 100 killed behind; but what he called 100 we should call between 2,000 and 3,000. I went down into the town the day after I sent you the last letter. It was horrifying to see the mutilated masses of what had once been men; they lay in heaps and rows all about the place – some in out of the way corners, where the poor wounded fellows had crawled to and died. Many of them were in an advanced state of decomposition, from which the stench was overpowering. Scarcely a house but had felt the effects of our shots pretty severely. The Russians, too, had destroyed almost everything they could before they left the town. The number of guns and the quantity of shot is enormous. The masts of the sunken ships are seen above the water in the harbour, where I have had a good swim. Several infernal machines have been picked up. Powder, both loose and in bags, lies scattered about everywhere, and many places are supposed to be mined; in fact the town is mined in all directions. I have made a collection of the different kinds of Russian bullets for you; also of the different sorts of coins current among us. These are Turkish, Russian, Sardinian, Greek, Austrian, and several others. I have also a Russian book and a couple of pictures, and I hope to be spared to bring them home. This sheet of paper and the order I got out of Fort Nicholas, in Sebastopol.
I received my medal on the 6th. I have got a few pounds in the Regimental Savings Bank. E... will not have it, as she says she can earn enough herself, and is sure I must want it here; but I think it will be of more use in England, and I can do well enough without it. I don’t know if I told you, but before I left England she gave me a gold ring. I always wore it till one night in the trenches, a shot pitched close to me, driving the stones in all directions, one of which hit the ring, broke it in two, and imbedded it in the flesh; and, but for the ring, my finger would have been broken. I sent one piece to her, and the other I have. It is expected that we shall have a brush shortly on the Tchernaya. Our ships are all gone with troops on board, but their destination is not known. The unfortunate Russian fleet is totally destroyed. It is very dangerous work in any part of the town. A few days ago a mine was sprung under a working party, and upwards of 40 men were killed and wounded, six of them being our own. A woman also who had gone down to see the town was wounded in the face and blown into the harbour. There is little firing and no real fighting at present. I received your newspaper on the 8th, which was a treat; many thanks for it. I forgot to tell you that I have kept a bit of a journal for you of what has been going on since I first landed. I am employing any spare time in writing it out afresh in a Russian book which I got in Sebastopol; it will be a curiosity. The rainy weather will soon come on, but there will be none of the severe trench duty to be done. Fuel I can get in abundance from the town; the ruins are also furnishing materials for the hut. Hoping I may have a letter from you ere long, I remain your affectionate brother, Alfred Bryant.”

Another Letter.
The following interesting letter is to his father, at Hastings, from G. Quaife, purser on board H.M.S. Queen of the South, and dated at sea Nov. 23rd, 1855. – “My dear Father. You no doubt will be surprised to hear that, if all is well, I shall be at Southampton a few days after you receive this letter, we having been sent home with invalids, &c. I have seen a great deal since I have been out, as I made up my mind to do from the commencement. On Monday evening, Oct. 29th we entered in Kazatch Bay. As it was nearly dark I could not distinguish what sort of a place we were in, but ascertained that we were about six miles from Sebastopol. On looking in that direction I saw the flash of a cannon on the north side, and shortly after heard the report. I experienced a strange mixture of feelings at being so near to a place which has caused so much excitement during the last year. We soon after heard a puffing noise and saw a number of lights approaching us, which turned out to be a part of the fleet returning from Kinburn. In the morning I was up early to have a look about. I found we were in a bay, with the land low, but rising in the distance to mountains of great height. The French have the harbour at Kazatch, and we have a small bay outside, near Kamesk, which nearly joins. To the left we could see the forts of Sebastopol quite plain. They fired very heavily at times, and at night the shells bursting in the air looked very grand. The day following being very fine, our chief officer made up his mind to have a sail-round to the mouth of the harbour. I having gained permission to go, took my seat with two ship’s officers and one of the army, but as the breeze died away we were not able to go so far as we wished. We saw the forts and their firing, but there was no danger, as they take no notice of small boats. There appears still to exist a great want of management at Balaklava. We were ordered at Kamesk to go into the harbour. On arriving outside they were a long tome before they answered our signal, and when they did we could not make it out, so kept ours up with hope of that they would do the same while we went in closer. But they soon hauled theirs down and would not send it up again. We remained outside for the remainder of the day, and then went back to Kamesk. On the captain reporting himself to the authorities next day, they only said “We thought you would not be able to get in”. About a week later, we managed to get to Balaklava harbour which is completely hemmed in by almost perpendicular mountains, and it surprises me how it was ever discovered, as there is nothing to mark the entrance but the remains of an old Genoese castle, and can only be seen by getting close to it. The town is in a very dilapidated state. What houses there are are straggling up the side of a mountain at any convenient spot on which a hut can be placed. A few days after we got in, I and an army surgeon who went out with us, walked over to Sebastopol, having called on our way at Head Quarters for a pass. We met General Simpson, who answered our salutation. After a fatiguing walk we found ourselves in the midst of what the Russians called the ‘Blood-stained ruins’. They are such, in every sense, for there is scarcely any house with a roof, and those which have, are riddled with shot. The French and English are pulling to pieces what are left, so as to get at the timber wherewith to make huts. I went to the Redan and several other places on the English side; and, with a little scheming, managed to get into the French side also. But there were some parts they would not let us go into, as the Russians would see us, which would draw their fire. Even as it was, their firing was unpleasantly near. I was not sorry when we were walking out of the town and up the ravine which was strewed with shot and shell on all sides. On the heights above were enormous trenches, which ran down and across the Worinsoff road, up which we were going. Anyone to have an idea of what the conflict must have been in taking the town, should see the traces of the awful work. The town must have been a very splendid one, and enough still remains to convey that idea. The immense buildings and massive structures which were of white stone, all go to prove that it was of no ordinary size and splendour. On my return to ship I found myself completely knocked up. I could not have walked less than 25 miles, and I had scarcely recovered  from an attack of dysentery; but after a few days rest, I felt no further inconvenience. My next trip on shore was to a gentleman to whom I had an introduction, and whom I found in a nice wooden hut at Balaklava. He was seated in a wine-cask, cut down and padded, which made a capital easy chair. He was in front of something like an ironing-stove. On the sides were suspended numerous relics of the war – swords, helmets &c. We planned an excursion for the following Tuesday. I was up at seven to breakfast with him, and at eight the horses were brought to the door. That of my friend (as I shall now style him) was a nice little Arab colt, and mine a rough Russian, but a very good one to go. We rode through numerous camps. The Sardinians I much admired for their soldierly appearance. We crossed the country to the rise of the Belbec. The scenery surpassed anything I had ever before beheld. We rode along by the side of a mountain on a new road that the French had just made. Below us was a valley of immense depth, and in front were the well-known Mackenzie heights. Bluff rocks were towering up on all sides; and, unlike the parts we had passed, the sides of the mountain were covered with stunted oak and low brushwood. All added to the scenery, and it requires a better head and pen than mine to give you a true idea of it. We went on until we were stopped by a French picket, we having got out to the advanced post. So, retracing our path, we took the Worinsoff road, and went on to the valley of Bida and the town of that name. That is one of the towns to which the inhabitants returned. It is only a miserable village of scattered huts, inhabited by Tartars. The road was a very good one, and was made by a Prince of its name. A Jew died somewhere near, who was worth an immense sum of money, and as he had no friends the Prince took his money and made the road with some of it. The scenery was still very beautiful. The mountain that we made for was of immense height, and this road wound round on one side. Stones were put to protect travellers from falling some hundred feet into a valley. On the other side, large pieces of rock overhung as if they would fall upon you. We passed a beautiful shooting-box belonging to one of the princes, in the midst of a wood, but now converted into a commissariat depôt. We put our horses in the town; and, after a great many signs, made the people understand that we wanted the horses to have something to eat. We then walked some distance to what was only a rivulet, but which in winter was a scene of great cataracts, as the pieces of rock themselves indicated. Taking our seat on one of them, we opened our sandwiches and flasks, and after our hard ride took a welcome refreshment. We got home about 5 p.m., after a ride of about 40 miles. So you may imagine how I felt, as I had not crossed a horse for a long time. However, my friend planned a second day’s ride, when we went to a review of the Artillery on the plain where the battle of Balaklava was fought, and a grand sight it was. I saw General Codrington; also Russell, the Times correspondent. We then passed on to the Tchernaya, when my horse, which had been very fidgetty, bolted with me. There was a hill before us, so I let him have his own way, and before he got to the top he slackened speed, and I then pulled him up. I rejoined my friend, and we then went down to the Tchernaya bridge, where the battle was fought. We tried to cross it, but the French would not let us. We kept along by the side of the river a great distance. Beneath us was the valley of Inkermann, and above us were the Mackenzie heights, with numerous trenches and batteries. With a glass we could see the Russians, and whilst we were looking at them we saw them telegraphing. We got off our horses and led them up a steep hill, on the summit of which was a French battery, and further on there was another, still larger, at which the Russians were firing very fast. We passed that, and rode on to one – an old one that had been abandoned. In it was a large gun that had burst, one part of it lying some distance off. It was of such thickness that you could not thought possible to have burst. We went on to the summit, and in a few minutes I saw a shell come over and drop disagreeably close to us, and then explode, throwing up dust and earth. My friend remarked that seeing us on horseback, the Russians took us for officers. We thought it the better plan to retire as soon as possible, for shortly after, other shots came over. We next rode to one of the commissariat depôts to which my friend belonged, and in going along we passed through the French magazine. After refreshing ourselves and horses and getting mounted, we heard an awful explosion and saw a fearfully grand sight. The fire and smoke were enormous, cannon balls were being hurled in all directions, and shells were snapping and cracking in the air. Our horses were greatly frightened, and the workmen ran and put their heads in a stack of wood, just by. After the smoke had cleared a little, my friend said ‘Here’s off from the spot, and you must stick to me as close as you can!’ at the same time informing me that it was the French magazine which we had recently passed. I could not keep up with him, and soon found myself in the midst of a number of French officers, scampering along as fast as we could go. I overtook my friend, and we halted on the brow of the hill, beneath which was the spot where the explosion took place. The powder was still exploding, and a soldier advised us not to go any further, as it was not possible to tell if other explosions would not occur. There were officers from both armies all around us, and there were pieces of shell that had just burst. Then as we rode home, people were pouring out of Balaklava, and every available height was covered. Windows had been broken in the town, at a distance of about six miles, and even our ship at sea was violently shaken by the explosion. Next day, I rode over to look at the place, and found it an awful sight. Large guns were blown about, and dead bodies were being dug out of the ruins. The French had their hospital close by. The huts were blown over and the beds were all out in the open air; whilst the tents were torn into ribbons. I will not take up more time and space by detailing the horrors of the event, but am very thankful that I escaped, especially as I was so close at the time – not more than three quarters of a mile off. I suppose you have heard of it by the papers.”. Nov. 23rd. We have just arrived  at Malta.” “J. Quaife.”

“On the War”
(By “Anon” and published in the Hastings News of Sept. 28, 1855)

“Tis the voice of our country, from centre to shore;
It calls on each Briton to slumber no more;
It bids us arise ere our birthrights be gone,
And rally like men round the altar and throne.

“The God of that altar, through tumult and war,
E’er beamed upon England His bright morning star;
And poured on our fathers His blessing divine;
And ne’er should His children prove false to his shrine.

“Round thrones of our monarchs for ages have stood
Saints, heroes and sages, the great and the good;
No foe from without dared the ramparts to win,
Nor must it be cankered by foes from within.

“Too long, oh, too long, has a faction held sway,
That piecemeal would dribble Old England away;
And take from the Sov’reign and people their own
And cover with insult the altar and throne.

“It shall not avail them; the voice has gone forth;
It rings through the empire – East, West, South and North;
For Britain aroused and indignant at length,
Now bears, like a giant, the arm of her strength.

“We stand for Old England – her rights and her laws;
‘Tis the cause of our country – God prosper that cause!
Unimpaired to our children, those rights shall descend,
So let us preserve them, or die to defend!”















Our Local Heroes.
The exact number of Hastings men who served their country in the protracted war against Russia has not been ascertained, and probably was never known, but from the twenty persons whose names form the following list nearly forty letters appear in these pages. 
J. Quaife was purser on board H.M.S. Queen.
James T. Hart was on board of the Britannia, Admiral Dundas’s flag ship.
A young midshipman, when writing home, withheld his name from publication.
Lieut. J. G. Harkness was with the 55th Regiment.
Viscount Chewton was brutally attacked at the Alma and died of his wounds.
George Oliver, of H.M.S. Queen, was a son of John Oliver, a boatman.
Thomas Brazier, of the 4th Regt. was of a well-known Hastings family.
[[John Whyborn (1862-)|John Whyborn]], of H.M.S. Rodney, was also of a Hastings family.
William Jas. Edwards, an artilleryman, was the son of a baker.
Edward Walter was also of H.M.S. Queen.
Barnett Huggett, shoeingsmith, who died of cholera, was son of William Huggett.
Another man serving in the Rodney was from Hastings.
George Vickers was in the 5th Battalion, Royal Artillery.
Benjamin Taylor. Magazine man of the Queen was killed on shore.
George Geering served in the on-shore batteries with the Naval Brigade.
Alfred Bryant, another Hastings man, did not state his position.
George Mantell (apparently of the Leander) served also on shore. 
Charles Butchers, of the Royal Artillery, was killed in action.
[[Thomas Phillips (1830-1855)|Thomas Phillips]], of the Queen, died of cholera.
Eli W.... was one of the Baltic fleet, and of a mortar-boat in the bombardment of Sweaborg.
Reeves and Philpott, both serving in the war, were of well known Hastings families. 
Other local men there were, whose names if I knew at the time, have been forgotten, except a son of James Ives, who went with the Baltic fleet.

}}					From the “Hastings and St. Leonards Penny Press”
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[[Category:Manuscript Histories Transcripts]]
<small>Handwritten portions transcribed by Sally Morris, the typeset regions by R. Penfold</small>