Jack shut the door of the carriage, into which the lady had jumped, and the Russian driver, at a word from her, whipped up his horses and followed his countrymen, while Jack and Sergeant Barrymore trotted off to join their comrades.
The Russians fired one solitary gun, their cavalry made some show of covering their retreat, and the battle was ended.
Another honour had been added to Britain’s roll of glory!
CHAPTER XXVI.
JACK RECEIVES HIS FIRST STEP.
NIGHT had fallen upon the slopes of the Alma. The British army had encamped on the ground it had won, and hundreds of camp-fires flickered on the field.
Round one, Jack, Will, Sergeant Linham, Pearson, and Brandon were sitting. They were all moody and silent. A great battle had been fought, a great victory had been won; but there was no jubilation in their hearts.
Darkness fortunately hid from them the terrible sights by which they were surrounded, but it could not shut out the sounds. Groans and cries and moanings for water were heard from all sides, and the lanterns bobbing about in different parts of the field showed where the doctors and ambulance-men were busy. For hours Jack and Will had wandered over the field, taking water to the wounded and often helping to place some shattered hero in a more comfortable position till the doctors—or death—should come to him.
Later, they had eaten their ration of pork by the camp-fire, and now they sat gloomily looking into the flickering flames.
Pearson sucked moodily at his pipe. ‘Hearts will be sore in England when the news of this day’s work is known,’ he said presently.
‘Ay, and hearts will be glad,’ growled Sergeant Linham; ‘the cry of the orphans will be drowned in the shouts over the victory. And so it ought to be. We’re soldiers, aren’t we, and it’s our trade to kill or be killed? Our relations know this, and must expect some of us to go.’