‘You seem determined to run into unnecessary danger,’ said Will; ‘but if you’re bent on going I’m with you.’
The rain by then had left off, and leaving their cloaks behind, so as to be able to move more freely, Jack and Will left their lines.
They carried only pistols with them, relying upon their agility to keep out of the way of any prowling Russian sentries or patrols. They made their way past the camp of the Light Division, and creeping down a ravine made towards the river. Emerging safely from the ravine, they saw, some couple of miles in front of them, the lighthouse, which they knew stood at the head of the roadstead of Sebastopol.
They then had the Karabel Faubourg of Sebastopol on their left; and though it was too misty to see the lights of the town they heard the church bells ringing. They ascended a slight hill, noticing that several caves opened from it into the side of the hill. They entered one or two of these, disturbing flocks of sea-gulls as they did so.
‘Rummy sort of place this,’ said Will.
‘Yes, tradition says that the original Tartar inhabitants lived in these caves.’
‘Good luck to ’em,’ growled Will. ‘I should think they found it a pretty chilly sort of life.’
It began again to drizzle with rain, and the two lads entered one of the caves to get out of the wet. They remained there some time, Jack being busy thinking, when he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Will, it must be getting on towards morning. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that the church bells in Sebastopol should be kicking up such a row at this time of night?’
‘It is a bit funny; but perhaps, as to-morrow’s Sunday, it’s one of their saints’ days, and they’re sort of ringing him in.’
But presently they heard twelve o’clock chiming from the various churches, and still the bells kept ringing.