reinforcements, and, above all, for men in formation,
and he now resolved to go to General Codrington
himself. Seeing Captain Crealock, of the 90th, near him
busy in encouraging his men, and exerting himself with
great courage and energy to get them into order, he
said, 'I must go to the general for supports. Now
mind, let it be known, in case I am killed, why I went
away.' He crossed the parapet and ditch, and succeeded
in gaining the fifth parallel through a storm of grape
and rifle bullets in safety. Sir William Codrington
asked him if he thought he really could do anything
with such supports as he could afford, and said he might
take the Royals, who were then in the parallel. 'Let
the officers come out in front—let us advance in order,
and if the men keep their formation the Redan is ours,'
was the colonel's reply; but he spoke too late—for at
that very moment our men were seen leaping down into
the ditch, or running down the parapet of the salient,
and through the embrasures out of the work into the
ditch, while the Russians followed them with the bayonet
and with heavy musketry, and even threw stones and
grapeshot at them as they lay in the ditch. The fact
was that the Russians having accumulated several thousands
of men behind the breastwork, and seeing our men
all scattered up, and confused behind the inner parapet
of the traverse, crossed the breastwork, through which
several field-pieces were now playing with grape on the
inner face of the Redan, and charged our broken groups
with the bayonet, at the same time that the rear-ranks,
getting on the breastwork, poured a heavy hail of bullets
on them over the heads of the advancing column. The
struggle that took place was short, desperate, and bloody.
Our soldiers, taken at every disadvantage, met the enemy
with the bayonet too, and isolated combats took place
in which the brave fellows who stood their ground had
to defend themselves against three or four adversaries
at once. In this mélée the officers, armed only with
their swords, had little chance; nor had those who
carried pistols much opportunity of using them in such
a rapid contest. They fell like heroes, and many a
gallant soldier with them. The bodies of English and
Russians inside the Redan, locked in an embrace which
death could not relax, but had rather cemented all the
closer, lay next day inside the Redan as evidences of
the terrible animosity of the struggle. But the solid
weight of the advancing mass, urged on, and fed each
moment from the rear by company after company and
battalion after battalion, prevailed at last against the
isolated and disjointed band, who had abandoned the
protection of unanimity of courage, and had lost the
advantages of discipline and obedience. As though
some giant rock had advanced into the sea and forced
back the waters that buffeted it, so did the Russian
columns press down against the spray of soldiery which
fretted their edge with fire and steel, and contended in
vain against their weight. The struggling band was
forced back by the enemy, who moved on, crushing friend
and foe beneath their solid tramp, and, bleeding, panting,
and exhausted, our men lay in heaps in the ditch
beneath the parapet, sheltered themselves behind stones
and in bomb-craters in the slope of the work, or tried to
pass back to our advanced parallel and sap, and had to
run the gauntlet of a tremendous fire. Many of them
lost their lives, or were seriously wounded in this
attempt. The scene in the ditch was appalling, although
some of the officers have assured me that they and the
men here laughed at the precipitation with which many
brave and gallant fellows did not hesitate from plunging
headlong upon the mass of bayonets, muskets, and
sprawling soldiers—the ladders were all knocked down
or broken, so that it was difficult for the men to get up
at the other side; and the dead, the dying, the wounded,
and the sound were all lying in heaps together. The
Russians came out of the embrasures, plied them with
stones, grape-shot, and the bayonet, but were soon forced
to retire by the fire of our batteries and riflemen, and
under cover of this fire many of our men escaped to the
approaches. In some instances the enemy persisted in
remaining outside in order to plunder the bodies of
those who were lying on the slope of the parapet, and
paid the penalty of their rashness in being stretched
beside their foes; but others came forth on a holier
errand, and actually brought water to our wounded."

Such was the end of this tremendous conflict. Its
renewal next morning, it will be remembered, was
rendered unnecessary, the Russians having evacuated the
Redan.

The unsuccessful attack on the central bastion by the
French, after the Malakhoff had been carried, was
equally desperate with the British attack on the Redan.
It is thus described by the correspondent of the Daily
News:—

"The signal from the Malakhoff that the French were
successful was to be repeated at the Lancaster Battery
to the right of the great ravine leading up from the
inner harbour, and again at the Maison Blanche to
inform General de Salles, who commanded the French
force on the extreme left—the Second Division of the
first corps, supported by the First Division—destined for
the attack of the Central Bastion. In case it proved
successful, it was to be immediately followed by the
advance of a brigade of Piedmontese, numbering about
1,400 men, against the Flagstaff Battery. They were
all mustered in the trenches from an early hour, and
were distinctly perceived by the Russians, who were
fully prepared for them. The day was very cold, and
the great masses of dust accumulated on the roads and
in every hole and corner of this monster camp were
raised by a high cutting wind, and filled the air in all
directions. The consequence was, that although General
de Salles himself, all his officers of état major, those of
the Piedmontese état major, everybody, in fact, who
could produce one, had their telescopes levelled on the
Maison Blanche, the signal could not be seen. Time
wore on: half-past one at last came, and then, losing
patience, he sent off two aides-de-camp ventre-a-terre
to learn how matters stood. They learnt on their
arrival that the signals had been duly made, but had
received no reply. Rocket after rocket was again sent
up, and this time were distinctly perceived and replied
to, and the next minute the general drew his sword,
shouted 'En avant!' and the column rushed forward
au pas de course, some sappers bowling along in front
carrying small wooden bridges to be thrown over the
ditch. This was done in a second—little masses of
men shot across, and mounted the parapet. 'Now
comes the tug of war,' thought every one; but every
one was mistaken. The parapet was greatly battered
and knocked about by the shell; there were small caves
in it, heights and hollows in it, of all possible dimensions,
and in and on these, in all possible postures from
the sublime to the ridiculous, the assailant stood, sat,
or squatted. The officers shouted, waved their swords,
entreated and commanded in vain; the fact is—it is a
fact which in these matters it is not fair to overlook—
that when, as in this case, you have run a hundred
yards or more exposed to showers of grape, and arrive
breathless on such a pleasant spot as on the wrong side of
a parapet, behind which some thousands of fellows are
waiting for you, and thirsting for your blood, it is no
easy matter to get you to make up your mind to pitch
yourself across, knowing as you do perfectly well that
the first hundred men who go in are almost certain to
be fallen upon and massacred like so many wolves.
Things remained in this state for exactly four minutes;
it seemed an age; and during the whole of the time the
Russians were flinging hand grenades across in showers.
At twenty minutes past two General de Salles raised
himself above the parapet of the French trench, took off
his kepi, and waving it over his head, shouted out
'Vive l'Empereur!' everybody around him took up
the cry: the men in reserve repeated it; enthusiasm
began to boil up; the soldiers on the parapet caught the
infection, jumped up, yelled out the famous war-cry
once more, sprang across, and disappeared in the interior
of the fort, like divers taking their plunge. After this,
for several minutes, the only sounds to be heard were
those arising from a deadly fight, man to man, 'tooth
and nail,' shouts and execrations, drowned or
interrupted ever and anon by the crash of the musketry, now
dying into dropping-shots, and then in one burst rising
into a passionate rattle, as if oceans of hate and rage
and courage and enthusiasm found an outlet in those
furious volleys. At last the sounds began to wax
fainter; the Russians had been driven out and the
French were advancing. The Russian reserves,