The men answered with a wild cheer, and soon along the whole line a crashing volley rang out.
As was frequently the case during the day, the fog lifted for a few minutes and showed the little band of Englishmen that they were opposed to several whole battalions fully six thousand strong. They also saw that four slender companies of the 77th Regiment, barely two hundred and fifty strong, coming down the crest, had as it were come unexpectedly upon the huge horde of Russians. Not for one instant did they pause, however. They delivered a crashing volley; then, led by several mounted officers, with a soul-stirring cheer they charged with the bayonet. They dashed in amongst the dense masses of Russian infantry, literally rolling them up. The gray-coated battalions broke and wavered.
‘Now is our time, men,’ cried the officer in command of the mixed party with which were Jack and Will, and bringing their bayonets down to the charge they sprang forward to complete the work so gallantly begun by the 77th.
The Russians had faced half-about to meet the 77th, and Jack’s party took them in flank, bayoneting and driving them backward like sheep. The great battalions broke and fled for their lives, leaving hundreds of dead behind them. The captured guns, which had been left where they were, were retaken, and the artillerymen almost wept with joy to find their weapons had not been spiked.
The defeated battalions were pursued down to the very slopes of Shell Hill, and it was only when the Russian artillery posted on the crest began to hurl showers of shot and shell amongst the handful of British that the bugles sounded the rally, and the men retreated to the ground they had originally occupied. Then those two Russian battalions, the Catherinburg and Tomsk, retreated from the field and took no more part in that day’s fighting.
‘Cavalry work is brilliant,’ said Jack; ‘but after all it’s the infantry that do the real business. That charge was grand, Will.’
But the tremendous fire from the guns on Shell Hill was so rending and tearing them that this gallant band had to retire, and but few would have lived to tell the tale had it not been for the English artillery, which silenced some of the Russian guns.
The remainder of the 41st Regiment, under General Adams, advancing, Jack’s party formed in their rear and marched with them towards the spot known as the Fore Ridge, which was being assaulted by an overwhelming force of Russians. Marching along the ridge, the gallant seven hundred descended the slope, meeting on their way the pickets driven in from the front.
Then through the fog they saw looming enormous columns of Russians, thousands strong. The English fired a volley, and while they were reloading the Russian bugles began to sound and the men to face about and retreat.
The voice of the gallant Adams rang out, but only those near him could hear, ‘Another volley, lads; then charge!’