A sailor's life under four sovereigns, Volume 2 (of 3)Keppel, Henry, Sir
History
A sailor's life under four sovereigns, Volume 2 (of 3)
Keppel, Henry, Sir
Admirals -- Great Britain -- Biography; Great Britain. Royal Navy
are very good fun, but the shells are beastly things from which it is
difficult to escape. They are no respecters of persons. On Sunday a
man was killed by the fragments of a shell while he was sitting in the
supposed most secure place inside the entrance to one of our magazines.
[Illustration: _Sketch by Col. Hon. W. Colville. 1855.
In Rear of the Lancaster Battery_]
Wenny Coke goes into the trenches to-night, and to-morrow I shall be
in our batteries all day and will give such a dusting to any Russian
battery that has the impudence to molest my favourite Fusiliers. I am
going to take grub, and have invited Wenny to dinner in the deepest
part of his trench. Had I had time, I could fill a quire with the
absurdities of the soldiers as well as sailors, who have given many
a good laugh. Directly little Harry heard of my appointment, he got
leave and galloped up to my tent.
[Sidenote: July 15.]
Visited our right division in trenches. Thompson performing divine
service in open air to the Naval Brigade; “Little Harry” with him. A
man killed while sitting in the battery reading his Bible.
[Sidenote: July 16.]
Among arrivals from home in Balaklava was a cargo of ice for use of
Naval Brigade hospitals. For some unknown reason doctors objected
to receive ice in the hospitals! After my superiors afloat had been
supplied, the Commander of the Naval Brigade came in for a share. We
were not far from the French headquarters. I sent a couple of blocks
to General Pellissier, who invited me to _déjeuner_. He had clever
fittings with green branches, etc., for luxury and comfort reminding me
of Vauxhall gardens in bygone times. Dined with General Barnard.
[Sidenote: Letter to H. F. S. July 18.]
Wenny Coke in the trenches last night bowled over by a spent round.
On visiting his tent I found him cheery, but round shot don’t touch
gently. I was about to sit on a fur coat, rolled up near the head of
his bed, when he called out, “Don’t sit there, Uncle Harry. A cat from
Sevastopol came out last night and dropped nine kittens in the sleeve!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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