ey again
rushed forward and retook the redoubt. In vast masses the Russians
pressed on, their artillery of heavy calibre supporting their advance,
and often throughout the day the fortune of the fight seemed doubtful;
but never did troops behave with more heroic courage. Shrouded by a
thick fog, each man, and each company, and each regiment, felt that they
must in a great part depend upon themselves. Meantime, Sir George
Cathcart, with part of the 68th Regiment, and a few other men, hearing
that the enemy were attempting to force the extreme right, and that it
was the point most open to danger, pushed rapidly forward, hoping to act
on the flank of the Russian troops storming the Sandbag battery. He had
not gone far when he discovered the enemy on his front, on his right
flank below him, and on his left above him. At that moment he fell,
shot through the head, while several of his staff were killed with him.
General Torrens, who had come up, was also wounded; the men were
withdrawn to the ground on the flank of the battery, which they, with
other troops, continued to maintain. By this time several of the
Russian generals, with the officers of their staffs, and colonels of
regiments, were killed, and their troops thrown into confusion. While
the battle thus furiously raged and numbers were falling, the Russians,
5000 strong, made a sortie against the left of the French batteries, and
succeeded in spiking several guns; but the French troops, rallying,
charged them so furiously that they were driven back; some of the
French, carried on by their ardour, entering the batteries with them.
The brave French General Lourmel was killed; but the Russians lost 1000
men. For several hours had the battle of Inkerman raged; the English,
but 8000 strong, supporting the whole brunt of the fight. The
termination seemed doubtful; fresh troops were brought against them, but
yet not a man who stood on those bloody heights ever dreamed of
yielding. Yet, overwhelmed at length, the Guards were pressed back.
Not only were they assailed by the fire of the Russian field batteries,
but by the guns of Sebastopol, and by those of the ships in Careening
Bay. Suddenly the shrill tones of the French horns were heard above the
rolling and rattling of the firing. The regiments of the first brigade,
which arrived with that dashing intrepidity for which the French are
distinguished, immediately pressed forward into the thick of the fight,
and alm