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!”’