Sergeant Linham at first resolutely refused to go; but the colonel backed up the order, and Jack and Will took him down to Balaclava and saw him aboard the Himalaya.
‘Ha, hum! good-bye, boys,’ said Linham as they parted on the deck. ‘Somehow I feel my soldiering days are done. The war must be pretty near over now, and when the regiment comes home mind you come and see me if I am still in hospital.’
Jack and Will promised, and shook hands with their old comrade, who in a strangely husky voice said, ‘God bless you, you toads!’
The next day Jack was one of the commander-in-chief’s escort when he rode through Sebastopol, and Jack gazed in wonder at the awful ruins. The houses were roofless and gutted, every inch of ground was ploughed up by shot and shell, and dead and dying Russians lay about on every hand. Life in Sebastopol must have been almost unbearable. The ditch of the Redan was still half-full of the brave fellows who had fallen in the attack, and Jack gazed at them sadly, thinking that if Sebastopol was at last theirs bitter had been the price paid for it.[9]
Exactly twelve days after the fall of Sebastopol, on the first anniversary of the battle of the Alma, a review was held, and the Crimean medals just sent out from England were distributed. The medals had no names on them; but some sort of a muddle had been expected.
Jack’s medal had four clasps, and at the presentation it was further announced that for the gallant charge made by a squadron of the regiment at the battle of the Tchernaya, by which General de la Marmora and his staff had been saved from capture, the General had intimated that all the officers and non-commissioned officers of that squadron, excluding corporals, would be presented with the Sardinian war-medal, and that six troopers or corporals, to be elected by their comrades, would be similarly decorated.
‘That means that we shall have two medals instead of one,’ said Jack to Will, who had fortunately been with the squadron.
‘Well, the more the merrier,’ said Will.
Jack had several times been to visit his new-found uncle, Colonel Harrington; who, though making progress, was still very ill, and the doctors had ordered him at once to return to England. Jack went down to Balaclava with him, and the colonel’s last words were, ‘When I get home, and am well enough, the first visit I shall make will be to your mother and your sisters. From what you have told me of the girls I am most anxious to see them. And as for you, dear Jack, take care of yourself, and mind and write to me. I shall use my influence for you at the Horse Guards, for if you intend to remain in the army I shall see that you serve as an officer, a position for which you have every qualification.’
Jack thanked his uncle cordially, and begged he would convey his love to all his relatives and friends. Riding back from Balaclava, having plenty of time, he dismounted and walked for a considerable distance along the fatal valley down which they had made their charge, looking about him at the Causeway Heights and the Fedoukine Hills, the different landmarks bringing back with startling vividness all the incidents of that day. There were many relics of the fight still lying about—rotting headdresses, rusty bits of accoutrements and arms, and hundreds of fragments of shell and half-buried round-shot. Skeletons of horses were plentiful, and Jack stood gazing at one, wondering whether it was that of his faithful Dainty, for he guessed he was about on the spot where she had fallen.