Whilst we were yet in hopes of taking the place, and of retiring to the Bosphorus for winter quarters, the enemy, animated by the presence of two of the Imperial Grand Dukes, made a vigorous attempt to inflict on the allies a terrible punishment for their audacity in setting foot on the territory of the Czar. The Battle of Inkerman was at hand.
It had rained almost incessantly for the greater part of the night of November 4th, and the early morning gave no promise of any cessation of the heavy showers. As dawn broke the fog and drifting rain were so thick that one could scarcely see two yards. At four o'clock A.M. the bells of the churches in Sebastopol were heard ringing drearily through the cold night air, but the occurrence excited no particular attention. About three o'clock A.M., a man of the 23rd regiment on outlying picket heard the sound of wheels in the valley, but supposed it arose from carts or arabas going into Sebastopol by the Inkerman road. After the battle he mentioned the circumstance to Major Bunbury, who rebuked him for neglecting to report it. No one suspected that masses of Russians were then creeping up the rugged heights over the Valley of Inkerman against the undefended flank of the Second Division, and were bringing into position an overwhelming artillery, ready to play upon their tents at the first glimpse of day.
Sir De Lacy Evans had long been aware of the insecurity of his position, and had repeatedly pointed it out. It was the only ground where we were exposed to surprise. Ravines and curves in the hill lead up to the crest against which our right flank was resting, without guns, intrenchments, abattis, or defence of any kind. Every one admitted the truth of the representations, but indolence, or a false sense of security led to indifference and procrastination. A battery was thrown up of sandbags on the slope of the hill, but Sir De Lacy Evans, thinking that two guns without any works to support them would only invite attack, caused them to be removed as soon as they had silenced the Light-house Battery, which had been firing on his camp.
{168}The action of the 26th of October might be considered as a reconnaissance en force. They were waiting for reinforcements to assault the position where it was vulnerable, speculating on the effects of a surprise of a sleeping camp on a winter's morning. Although the arrangements of Sir De Lacy Evans on repulsing the sortie were, as Lord Raglan declared, "so perfect that they could not fail to insure success," it was evident that a larger force would have forced him to retire from his ground, or to fight a battle in defence of it. No effort was made to intrench the lines, to cast up a single shovel of earth, to cut down the brushwood, or form an abattis. It was thought "not to be necessary."
Heavy responsibility rests on those whose neglect enabled the enemy to attack where we were least prepared for it, and whose indifference led them to despise precautions which might have saved many lives, and trebled the loss of the enemy. We had nothing to rejoice over, and almost everything to deplore, in the battle of Inkerman. We defeated the enemy indeed, but did not advance one step nearer Sebastopol. We abashed, humiliated, and utterly routed an enemy strong in numbers, in fanaticism, and in dogged courage, but we suffered a fearful loss when we were not in a position to part with one man.
It was a little after five o'clock in the morning, when Codrington, in accordance with his usual habit, visited the outlying pickets of his brigade. It was reported that "all was well" along the line. The General entered into conversation with Captain Pretyman, of the 33rd Regiment, who was on duty, and in the course of it some one remarked it would not be surprising if the Russians availed themselves of the gloom to make an attack. The Brigadier, an excellent officer, turned his pony round vigilant, and had only ridden a few yards, when a sharp rattle of musketry was heard down the hill on the left of his pickets, and where the pickets of the Second Division were stationed. Codrington at once turned in the direction of the firing, and in a few moments galloped back to camp to turn out his division. The Russians were advancing in force. The pickets of the Second Division had scarcely made out the infantry clambering up the steep hill through a drizzling rain before they were forced to retreat by a close sharp musketry, and driven up the hill, contesting every step, and firing as long as they had a round of ammunition. Their grey greatcoats rendered them almost invisible even when close at hand.