When the Mortar Battery was carried, the enemy held it for about fifteen minutes. At the time the heavy fire between the French and Russians was going on, a portion of the 90th Regiment were employed on fatigue duty on the right of the new advanced works on our right attack. They were in the act of returning to their posts in the Gordon Battery just at the moment the heavy firing on the right had ceased, when a scattered irregular fusillade commenced in the dark on the left of their position close to the Mortar Battery. Captain Vaughton, who commanded the party of the 90th, ordered his men to advance along the covered way to the works. They moved at the double time, and found the Russians in complete possession of the Mortar Battery. The 90th at once opened a heavy fire of musketry, when an alarm was given that they were firing upon the French; but the enemy's fire being poured in with deadly effect, the small party of the 90th were thrown into great confusion. With a loud "hurrah," however, the gallant band sprang with the bayonet upon the enemy, who precipitately retired over the parapet. In order to keep up the fire, the men groped about among the dead Russians, and exhausted the cartridges in the enemy's pouches.
As an act of justice, the names of the officers and men of the party of the 90th Regiment whose conduct was distinguished in this affair should be recorded. They are — Clarke, Brittle, and Essex (sergeants), Caruthers, severely wounded (corporal), Fare, Walsh, Nicholson (wounded), and Nash. Captain Vaughton received a severe contusion in the affair. The courage displayed{246} by Captain Cavendish Browne, of the 7th, in another part of the works, was conspicuous. He was severely wounded at the commencement of the attack, but he refused to go to the rear, though nearly fainting from loss of blood. He led on his men, encouraging them by voice and gesture, to the front. When his body was found, it lay far in advance of our line, with three balls in the chest.
Early on Saturday morning a flag of truce was sent in by the allies with a proposition to the Russians for an armistice to bury the dead, lying in numbers — five or six Russians to every Frenchman and Englishman — in front of the Round Tower and Mamelon, and after some delay, an answer in the affirmative was returned, and it was arranged that two hours should be granted for collecting and carrying away the dead on both sides. The news spread through the camps, and the races which the Chasseurs d'Afrique had got up in excellent style were much shorn of their attractions by the opportunity afforded of meeting our enemies upon neutral ground. The day was beautifully bright and warm. White flags waved gently in the faint spring breeze above the embrasures of our batteries, and from the Round Tower and Mamelon. Not a soul had been visible in front of the lines an instant before the emblems of peace were run up to the flagstaffs, and a sullen gun from the Mamelon and a burst of smoke from Gordon's batteries had but a short time previously heralded the armistice. The instant the flags were hoisted, friend and foe swarmed out of the embrasures. The Riflemen of the allies and of the enemy rose from their lairs in the rifle pits, and sauntered towards each other to behold their grim handiwork. The whole of the space between the Russian lines and our own was filled with groups of unarmed soldiery. Passing down by the Middle Picket Ravine, which was then occupied by the French, and which ran down in front of the Light Division camp, I came out upon the advanced French trench, within a few hundred yards of the Mamelon. The sight was strange beyond description. French, English, and Russian officers were walking about saluting each other courteously as they passed, and occasionally entered into conversation, and a constant interchange of little civilities, such as offering and receiving cigar-lights, was going on. Some of the Russian officers were evidently men of high rank and breeding, their polished manners contrasted remarkably with their plain, and rather coarse clothing. They wore the invariable long grey coat over their uniforms. Many of the Russians looked like English gentlemen in face and bearing. One tall, fine-looking old man, with a long grey beard and strangely shaped cap, was pointed out to us as Hetman of the Cossacks in the Crimea. The French officers were all en grande tenue, and offered a striking contrast to many of our own officers, who were still dressed à la Balaklava, and wore uncouth head-dresses, cat-skin coats, and nondescript paletots. The Russians seemed to fraternize with the French more than with us. The men certainly got on better with our allies than with the privates of our regiments who were down towards the front.{247}