‘INTO THE JAWS OF HELL.’
The charge of the heavy Dragoons had been so glorious that the whole of
the cavalry were mad with delight about it. The only feeling in the
Light Brigade was one of envy that they had not been able to share in
it. When Captain Wintle and Jack rejoined their regiment a loud cheer
went up from those men who saw them.
Lord Cardigan had by that time come up from his yacht in Balaclava
harbour, and had taken over the command. He sat in front of his brigade,
savagely gnawing his moustache.
Captain Norreys, on seeing that his regiment was likely to go into
action, had instantly asked for and obtained permission from Lord Raglan
to take over the command. Still in his staff tunic and undress cap, he
sat in front of the regiment; but as Jack and Captain Wintle rode up he
spurred to Lord Cardigan’s side and spoke earnestly to him.
As Lord Cardigan was just in front of the 17th Lancers, Jack heard all
that was said.
‘My lord,’ said Captain Norreys, ‘we should advance at once; we could
cut off the enemy’s cavalry and convert their retreat into a rout.’
‘No, no, Norreys,’ replied Lord Cardigan angrily. ‘My orders are
positive, to hold this position and on no account to leave it.’
‘But, my lord, such an opportunity creates a different situation. It’s
clearly our duty to charge, and through doing so we need not fail to
hold this position.’
‘I tell you no!’
‘Will you give me leave to charge with my regiment, then, my lord?’
‘Once and for all, no! Retire to your regiment, sir! I will obey my
orders, though those confounded heavies have the laugh of us this day.’
Captain Norreys saluted, and biting his lips with anger and vexation
retired, noticing Captain Wintle as he did so.
‘You, at least, have had a chance,’ he said. ‘We are committing a
frightful blunder by remaining here, through the ignorance of our chief.
His obstinate adherence to the very letter of an order he does not
understand will cost us dear.’
Alas! a still more deplorable misconception of orders by his superior
officer was shortly to send two-thirds of the light cavalry to their
doom.
The colonel of the 8th Hussars had been speaking to Lord Cardigan; and
Larry, as the colonel’s orderly trumpeter, was with him, the two passing
close by Jack as they started back to their regiment. Larry reined in a
moment.
‘Jack, ye’ve just all the luck in the wurrld,’ he said; ‘ye’ve been in
the finest charge since Waterloo, and here are we, sitting still, eating
our hearts out wid envy.’
‘Our turn may come yet, Larry,’ said Jack, shaking his warm-hearted
friend’s hand; and then he took his place in the ranks, telling Pearson
and the others round what he had seen of the heavy cavalry charge.
Presently Pearson said, ‘Hallo, what’s up. There’s an aide-de-camp from
headquarters jawing old Lucan,’
All turned and saw an officer in Hussar uniform, the impetuous Captain
Nolan, talking vehemently to Lord Lucan, waving his arm and pointing
straight up the north valley to where the Russians had a battery of
twelve guns posted. They talked some time; then both Lord Lucan and
Captain Nolan rode over to Lord Cardigan and a further conversation
occurred. They spoke loudly, and the front-rank men of the 17th could
hear distinctly some of the conversation.
‘Certainly, sir; but allow me to point out to you that the Russians have
a battery in the valley on our front, and batteries and Riflemen on each
flank,’ they heard Lord Cardigan say.
Lord Lucan shrugged his shoulders and replied, ‘I cannot help it; Lord
Raglan will have it so. We have no choice but to obey. When I asked
Captain Nolan what we were to attack, he pointed up the valley with his
sword, and said in an insulting manner, “There, my lord, is your enemy;
there are your guns.”’
‘Enough, my lord,’ answered Lord Cardigan quietly, saluting with his
sword. Then turning and facing his men he said, ‘The brigade will
advance.’
Lord Lucan first ordered the 11th Hussars back, leaving the 17th Lancers
and 13th Light Dragoons in the front rank, 11th Hussars and 4th Light
Dragoons in the second, and the 8th Hussars in the rear rank. These
dispositions were made quietly and orderly; the lines were dressed, and
the squadron, troop, and serrafile leaders took up their positions.
Lord Cardigan called Lord Paget, the colonel of the 4th Light Dragoons,
to him, and said, ‘My lord, I want you to give me your best
support--mind, your best support.’
Lord Paget saluted his superior, saying, ‘You may rely upon me, my
lord,’ and retired to his regiment.
Lord Cardigan then placed himself about five horses’ length in front of
his brigade, saying to Trumpeter Brittain of the 17th, who was his
orderly, ‘Sound the trot,’ and the brigade moved off.
Jack was behind Captain Wintle; on his right was Cornet Leland, and just
behind him were Brandon, Pearson, and Williams. Will was with Captain
Norreys in front. The men were in high spirits, though all realised the
desperate venture on which they were about to be launched.
‘We’ll show ’em to-day whether cavalry are any good or not,’ said
Pearson, as he gripped his lance firmly.
‘Ay, the heavies are not the only ones who can push home a charge,’ said
Williams.
‘Ha, hum!’ sounded a voice from behind, ‘ye’ll be better keeping your
breath, you toads. Use your arms more and your tongues less; we’ve got a
long way to go;’ and Sergeant Linham blew violently down his nose.
Most of them there were going on the longest journey of all--the last,
long journey from whence none return.
They had not proceeded very far when some shouting was heard from
behind; a hoarse command to some one to halt it seemed. Jack turned his
head and beheld a strange sight. Private Veigh, the regimental butcher,
clad only in shirt and overalls, the former blood-stained, mounted on a
white horse, a black clay-pipe in his mouth, a sword in his hand, was
forcing his way into his proper place in the ranks. He had been busy
killing oxen, when, hearing the trumpets of the Light Brigade sounding
the advance, he had seized a sword, jumped bareback on the first horse
he could see, and joined his troop.
‘If the old 17th’s going into action I’m going with it,’ he said, and in
spite of the positive orders of his officers to retire he insisted on
remaining, and went on with his regiment.
They had got some little distance up the valley when Captain Nolan, who
had announced his intention of charging with the brigade, and had taken
up his position on the left flank, was seen spurring wildly forward,
advancing diagonally across their front, waving his sword and shouting
out something at the top of his voice as though he would address the
brigade.
Lord Cardigan looked angrily at the aide-de-camp; and Captain Norreys,
who was close to him, thinking he was trying to force the pace of the
brigade, shouted out, ‘No, no, Nolan, that won’t do; we’ve got a long
way to go yet.’
The Hussar shouted still more frantically and waved his sword, when a
shell, the first fired at the Light Brigade, burst just above him and a
fragment struck him full in the chest. His features turned livid; but he
still galloped on, his sword-arm held high in the air. He gave one cry,
a shrill, unearthly scream, then his horse carried him on through the
interval of the 13th Light Dragoons, and he fell to the ground a corpse,
the first to pay the penalty of the fatal blunder for which he was
partly responsible, and which was sending four hundred of England’s most
gallant sons to their death.
The first discharge was followed by others, and in a few seconds a
hundred guns and thousands of rifles thundered and rattled. The
Fedioukine Heights on their left and the Causeway Heights on their right
were held by infantry and field-artillery in great numbers, and these
opened a tremendous fire on the devoted horsemen charging down the
valley. Facing them, but at a distance of a mile and a quarter, were
twelve Cossack nine-pounders; and behind these, smarting under their
late defeat and waiting for an opportunity to avenge themselves, could
it be done with safety, were the dense columns of cavalry which the
heavy Dragoons had rolled up the Causeway Heights little more than
half-an-hour before.
A regiment charging an army! Six hundred light horsemen against
twenty-four thousand of all arms! As they got farther up the valley the
fire under which they came was terrific. Shells, round-shot, grape,
rockets, tore and ploughed through the ranks, while bullets simply
rained. Down the whole length of the line men and horses began to fall,
and the cry ran constantly along the ranks, ‘Close up! Close up!’
The calmness of the officers seemed terrible. Amidst all the slaughter,
Captains Norreys and Wintle kept a sharp eye on their squadrons, and
every now and then they cried out, ‘Mind your dressing, Private Jones!
Do keep back, Wilson! Steady there!’ as a round-shot with a hideous,
moist plunge struck a corporal in the chest and literally cut him in
two. ‘Steady there, steady! Close up! Close up!’ as a man and horse went
down on the left. Gaps were constantly occurring, and the line was
diminishing as the riders closed in. The riderless horses, their eyes
wild with terror, their breasts flecked with foam, galloped along with
the line, trying to force their way to their places in the ranks or
crowding round the officers in front.
On, on, ever on they went, Jack keeping his eyes on the crimson overalls
and scarlet pelisse, blazing with gold, of Lord Cardigan, who, with his
admirable seat in the saddle and his sword carried at the slope, without
turning to right or left, led that line of horsemen straight for the
mouths of the guns. Presently a great white cloud of smoke appeared in
front, and from the twelve guns facing them another torrent of shot and
shell was poured upon them. Assailed on front and flanks, the fury of
the hail of death was indescribable. The excitement of the men reached
fever-heat.
‘Forward! forward!’ they cried. ‘Let us get at the guns.’
Captain Norreys increased the pace and was soon alongside Lord Cardigan,
who put out his sword across the Lancer’s breast.
‘Don’t pass the leader of the brigade,’ he said sternly; and Captain
Norreys fell back.
A second round from the battery in front came crashing through the
already torn and mangled ranks; then Lord Cardigan waved his sword and
increased his pace.
‘Charge!’ cried Captain Norreys; and Jack jerked out a note or two as
they literally raced along.[5]
‘Who is there here would ask another man from England?’ quoted Brandon,
bringing his lance down to the ‘engage.’
Hardly had the words left his lips when a nine-pounder ball took him in
the face, and his brains were scattered on Jack and Pearson, between
whom he was at that moment riding.
Sergeant Linham, on the left of Jack, was riding with set lips, a hard
light shining in his eyes.
‘A little farther, you toads,’ he cried, ‘and then we shall be in
amongst ’em! Remember the motto of our regiment, “Death or Glory!”’
The line was then so torn that all cohesion was lost; they were
advancing in clumps and clusters.
Captain Wintle, Cornet Leland, Sir William Lennox, Sergeant Linham,
Brittain, Pearson, and Jack were all together, just to the right rear of
Lord Cardigan, when the guns in front, not eighty yards away, were all
fired simultaneously. The flash from the muzzles seemed almost to burn
and blind the devoted riders advancing upon them, a shower of grape
swept through them, and almost the whole of the front rank vanished.
Jack just had time to notice that he and Linham were the only two left
of all who had been together a moment before; then they were in the
smoke of the guns, past the gleaming brass muzzles, and in amongst the
leather-helmeted artillerymen, cutting and thrusting with the anger of
men who have seen their best comrades blown to pieces.
Jack found himself opposed to an immense, beetle-browed fellow, who
aimed a blow at him with a rammer. Jack drew his pistol and immediately
shot him through the head. Another artilleryman made a cut at him with
his sword, but Jack clove his head and made a point at another fellow,
who crept under the wheels of his gun to escape. Vain hope, a Lancer
behind Jack saw him, and in another moment had pinned him to the ground
with his lance.
For a couple of minutes, Lancers and Dragoons, the remnant of the
leading regiments not more than fifty men in all, raged among the
battery, and very few Russians lived to relate their experiences. The
battery silenced, Jack rode on with his comrades, who then found
themselves faced by a dense mass of Russian cavalry.
Captain Norreys immediately held up his sword. ‘Rally on me, 17th,’ he
cried; and about twenty men formed behind him.
Jack, sword in hand, placed himself with the rest, when the gallant
captain cried, ‘Now, men, keep together--charge!’ and away they went at
the Russian Dragoons, who sat perfectly still awaiting the shock.
Captain Norreys rode straight for the officer in command, and with his
sword pierced him through and through. The Russian threw up his arms and
fell from the off-side of his horse; and the Lancer, being unable to
withdraw his blade, which was fastened to his wrist by the sword-knot,
was held a prisoner.
As Jack flew past he saw his officer receive a cut on the side of the
head which brought him from the saddle. There was no time to stop,
however, and he dashed on with the handful of Lancers, who crashed into
the Russians, unhorsing and killing a good many, when the rest instantly
turned and fled. The Lancers pursued them for some distance till they
found themselves being charged in turn by a horde of Cossacks, who were
taking them in flank, when they drew off towards a small party of the
13th.
Jack then saw Lord Cardigan some distance ahead, sitting quite calmly on
his horse, with his sword at the slope, while several Cossacks circled
round him, poking at him with their lances. A large troop of Cossacks
were just in front of Lord Cardigan, and it seemed as if his enemies
were more intent on capturing than killing him.
‘Come on, boys! the chief’s in danger,’ cried Jack; and he dashed
forward just as a Cossack got his lance entangled in Lord Cardigan’s
pelisse.
Seeing the handful of Lancers advancing towards them, the Cossacks
wheeled and fled, and Lord Cardigan, turning his horse’s head, trotted
off back towards the Russian guns, which he passed through and then went
on down the valley, taking no further part in the fight.
Jack heard a shout behind them, and, turning, saw Sergeant Barrymore
with a few men of his own regiment.
‘Death or Glory Boys, this way,’ Jack cried to those with him as he
waved his sword.
There was no one above the rank of corporal among the dozen or so men he
was with, and these yielded Jack ready obedience. They followed him and
formed up with those of their comrades under Sergeant Barrymore.
‘Thank God you’ve escaped, Jack,’ said the latter; and they all trotted
off towards their left.
Some Russian Hussars were passing close to them; and Jack, whose eyes
were very keen, cried, ‘By heaven, they’ve got some of our officers
prisoners;’ and before any one could stop him, at headlong pace he
charged down upon the Hussars.
He cut down one man who, he saw, was leading along Captain Norreys, who
was bleeding freely from one or two wounds in the head. Bidding the
captain take hold of his stirrup, Jack then laid about him furiously
with his sword; but he would have been quickly cut to pieces had not
Sergeant Barrymore come charging down with the rest of the men and put
the Hussars to flight.
Besides Captain Norreys, there was an officer of the 11th Hussars
prisoner, and both these were rescued. Jack caught a riderless horse,
bound up his officer’s head, and, putting a sword in his hand, mounted
him and directed him down the valley.
‘Your gallantry will not go unrewarded, Blair,’ said the wounded captain
as he started on his homeward ride.
Meanwhile the other regiments of the Light Brigade had charged in
amongst the guns and had prevented the Russians from carrying them off,
for, after the first line of English cavalry passed through, more
Russian artillerymen came flocking down and endeavoured to withdraw the
guns. Their fire having been silenced by the first line, the 11th
Hussars passed through the guns with but little damage, and Jack, with
his handful of Lancers, saw them draw up in beautiful order, facing the
Russian rear and preparing to charge down upon a large body of Russian
Hussars and Lancers who faced them.
‘We must not be out of this,’ cried Jack, turning round to where
Barrymore had been a few minutes before; but the sergeant had
disappeared. ‘17th, follow me!’ cried Jack, waving his sword, and the
troopers trotted off.
They formed up on the left of the Hussars just as the colonel gave the
word to charge, and away they went at the foe. These did not stand to
receive the shock, but turned and fled, Lancers and Hussars pursuing
them and sabring a good many.
Maddened by the terrible charge they had made down that long valley, on
which they had left the greater part of their comrades, the English
went on till they had driven the Russians right back to the aqueduct
against the Tractir Bridge. Then, overwhelming masses advancing on both
flanks, they gave up the pursuit and halted. Officers shouted commands,
and the trumpets sounded threes about, when the 11th wheeled and
retired.
Jack and his comrades had become separated from the Hussars in the
charge and pursuit, and had gone on farther than any of the rest, having
no officer to restrain them. Jack suddenly noticed that they were
isolated, and that the other regiments had retreated.
‘What are we going to do now, youngster?’ asked a voice behind him, and
turning he saw Veigh, the butcher, still smoking his black clay-pipe.
‘We must retire,’ said Jack; and seizing his bugle he sounded ‘threes
about.’
The handful of Lancers had not gone far, however, when a whole cloud of
Cossacks came charging down upon them.
‘Keep together!’ cried Jack, spurring out to the front; ‘knee to knee,
we must cut our way through!’
This they endeavoured to do; but the enemy surrounding the little group
was too strong, and, circling round, cut and hacked as though determined
that not a solitary man should escape. They were indeed in a tight
corner, and Jack was thinking that not one of them would get away when
he heard a shout from the flank, and on the slope above the Russians saw
the well-known uniform of the 8th Hussars.
‘Hurrah! the busby-bags are coming,’ he cried; and in another minute the
8th were cutting their way through to their comrades.
Foremost among them was Larry, who recognised Jack with a shout of
welcome.
‘Praise the saints, you’re safe, Jack!’ he said. ‘Come on, this way;
17th and 8th for ever! Hurrah for the ould 25th!’
They dashed through the Russians and returned to the guns, where they
were joined by a few men of the 4th Light Dragoons, and as fast as their
tired horses would go they began to retreat down the valley, which,
alas! was now strewn with dead and dying men and horses. Some on foot,
some mounted, singly and in groups, the remnants of the brigade were
staggering back. The Russians on the Causeway Heights had opened again
with rifle and artillery, and were directing their fire on every little
group.
Jack and his comrades did not number more than forty in all, till
presently, down the valley, they came upon a little group of Englishmen
engaged with a score of Cossacks. Jack recognised his own uniform, and
to his joy saw Sergeant Linham and Will, the latter being dismounted.
Linham was engaged in a single combat with a Cossack officer, who made a
cut which Linham parried. He prepared to return it when the Cossack
officer threw up his hand, then handed the hilt of his sword to Linham.
‘Ha, hum, you toad!’ cried the sergeant; ‘form guard there, you heathen.
Don’t give up till you’re hurt.’
The Russian understood nothing, and as Jack came up with his comrades he
noticed the man was the very same whom they had last seen wounded in the
cottage. He seemed to recognise Jack too.
Linham cried out angrily, ‘It’s opposed to all the rules of warfare to
surrender in the middle of a fair fight; form your guard.’
‘Never mind that, Jim,’ said Will; ‘help me catch a horse.’
‘Here, Will,’ cried Jack, seizing the pony of a Cossack who had just
been cut down; and he helped his chum into the saddle.
They now saw that before them several squadrons of Russian Lancers had
advanced into the valley from the slopes, and were drawn up barring
their progress. Behind them was a whole cloud of Cossacks and Hussars.
‘Quick, men!’ cried Jack; ‘we must cut our way through the force in
front, or we’re done!’
‘Lead us, youngster, and we’ll follow’ cried a grizzled Hussar with many
years’ service.
With the group of cavalrymen of different regiments there was only one
officer, and he was so grievously wounded as to be hardly able to sit
his horse, much less command. Several non-commissioned officers there
were, but these seemed quite willing to act under Jack’s guidance.
The opportunity of Jack’s life had occurred, and he took it; he felt
that he was born to command, and it came easy to him.
‘Front form!’ he cried, facing his little force. ‘17th on the right!
Keep well together and save your horses till I give the word. We shall
want every ounce that is in them.’
‘Well done, Jack!’ growled Sergeant Linham.
Jack placed himself well in front of his troop; Sergeant Linham directed
the left, a sergeant of Dragoons the right.
‘Trot!’ cried Jack; and they moved down, a compact body, upon the
Russian Lancers.
From the Causeway Heights they were plied with shot as they advanced;
but as the distance between them and their enemies in front was
decreased the fire necessarily lessened.
When fifty yards from the foe, Jack placed his bugle to his mouth and
sounded the charge. As the last note rang out a round-shot caught the
bugle and dashed it from Jack’s grasp, ripping it from the cord by which
it was attached to his shoulder, and almost tearing him from the saddle.
So dazed was he that he dropped his sword, and, allowing it to dangle
from his wrist by the sword-knot, caught a rein in each hand. He,
however, headed his horse directly for the officer who seemed in command
of the Lancers in front of him. The Russian, seeing the trumpeter making
straight for him, drew aside, and Jack, passing him, dashed in amongst
the men behind him. He went in between two files, and almost before he
could realise it was through.
His momentary dizziness passed, and he clutched his sword just as those
behind him crashed into the Lancers. The combat was short and sharp. The
Russians had again received the charge at the halt, and again were
scattered.
Then in front of them Jack perceived more squadrons drawn up to bar
their way, and these were wheeling back from their left so as to fall
upon the flank of the little body as it passed.
‘Bring up your left shoulders!’ shouted Jack as they dashed on, and this
they did.
They were soon up with the second body of Lancers, and as Jack went by
he noticed the same clenched teeth, the same uncertainty of purpose.
Though they were in the correct position for their attack, the Russians
did not press it home, and the handful of Englishmen went by, brushing
aside the lance-points with their swords and losing only one or two men
in both charges. But their horses were by then almost done up, their
pace was only a shambling trot, in many cases little better than a walk.
With renewed fury the guns on the Causeway Heights opened on them,
though Jack noticed that the guns on the Fedioukine Hills were silent.
Afterwards he learnt that this was due to the brilliant and timely
charge of D’Allonville with his Chasseurs d’Afrique.
The part of the valley along which the survivors of that terrible charge
were struggling bore dreadful testimony to the havoc which had been
wrought. Men in the blue and white of Lancer and Dragoon, in the laced
pelisse and crimson overalls of the Hussars, lay scattered about in
every conceivable attitude of agony and death. Shattered horses and
mangled riders lay around. Some men were seen limping painfully, helped
by comrades, some even crawling, over the ground strewn with headdresses
and accoutrements. And while the enemy still plied them with shot and
shell, Cossacks clung to them, spearing without mercy the stragglers,
cutting down those who were too weak to move. Besides which, little
bands of the defeated Russian Lancers pursued remnants of the brigade
till the Russian artillery, unwilling that any of the ill-fated
cavalrymen should escape, opened with grape and shell on both friend and
foe together.
The Russians retreated, and the devoted few held on their way a little
farther. Jack was hoping they would, after all, win back to where,
still some distance ahead, he could see the scarlet coats of the Scots
Greys, when Dainty suddenly fell dead-lame.
Jack, who was in rear of the others, instantly dismounted and found the
poor animal had been struck in the foreleg by a bullet. ‘Faithful
friend, I will get you out of this inferno if I can,’ he muttered; and
led Dainty, who limped on three legs, along for some distance. His
comrades had got some way down the valley when two shells, in rapid
succession, burst over them, and several men and horses, mostly of the
Hussars, fell killed or wounded.
While leading his limping horse Jack suddenly noticed on his right a
dismounted man of his own regiment engaged with five Cossacks. He turned
aside to help him just as a shell exploded close by him, one of the
splinters of which struck poor Dainty, and, penetrating to her heart,
killed her on the spot.
Jack was dazed for a moment, but he recovered and ran towards his
comrade. The shell which had killed Dainty had also killed three of the
Cossacks. Jack, taking another from behind, ran him through, when the
last man, after firing at Jack, galloped off.
Jack now saw that the man he had come to rescue was Sergeant Barrymore.
He stood over Captain Norreys, who was lying with his leg under a dead
horse.
‘I found the captain lying pinned to the ground by his charger,’ said
Barrymore, ‘and stayed to help him.’
‘Go on, friend,’ said poor Captain Norreys in a weak voice; ‘I feel I’m
done for.’
In truth, Captain Norreys was a terrible sight, his face being simply
covered with blood, while his right arm was shattered, smashed by a
bullet.
‘Never fear, sir; we’ll get you out of this or die with you,’ said Jack.
Remembering the brandy he had in his water-bottle, Jack gave the captain
a good drink; then he and Barrymore took a sip. They then managed to get
the dead horse off their officer, when Barrymore took him gently under
the arms, Jack supporting his legs, and they began to carry him along
between them.
By that time they were almost the last of the Light Brigade in the
valley. The Russians directed a heavy fire at them; but although balls
hummed and sang round them they won on fifty yards or so unhurt, till
several more Cossacks, as though grudging that one should escape, came
spurring down towards them.
The gallant pair had to lay down the wounded captain, and Jack picked up
the carbine and pouch-belt of a Dragoon who lay dead at his feet.
‘Leave me, boys; leave me,’ moaned the wounded officer. ‘I must die.’
‘Then we’ll all die together,’ said Barrymore grimly; and Jack, raising
his carbine, brought down a Cossack. He loaded quickly and fired again
with equal success; then he and Barrymore stood, sword in hand, and for
a few moments defended Captain Norreys from the Cossacks who circled
round, making savage thrusts with their lances.
The sergeant managed to give one of them a tremendous gash across the
hand with his sabre, on which he fell back, and the others, seeing the
resolute attitude of the two Lancers, trotted off.
Again Jack and Barrymore took up the wounded officer, this time making a
chair of their hands. On and on they staggered, until from sheer
exhaustion Jack felt he could go no farther. He began to stumble, and at
last Barrymore was compelled to stop. They were then almost at the end
of the valley. They laid down their wounded officer again, but still
determined to remain with him and die rather than leave him, though he
was then unconscious.
They had stood thus for nearly a minute when they heard a cheer behind
them, and a troop of the Scots Greys came up at a trot.
‘Come on, comrades,’ cried a hearty voice, and two Dragoons, having a
stretcher with them, picked up the wounded Lancer and helped the
faithful pair to carry him down the valley and out of the zone of fire.