He had a letter in his hand.
"We are off," he said.
"Who are off, and off what?"
"Why, your ship is ordered to Scutari, with a cargo of sick for hospital there. I am going in charge of them. You are ordered to join the Gurnet at once, and I myself have ordered Jack to come with us."
"Jack isn't sick?"
"No; but Jack has been working too hard, and he isn't well, so I've recommended the change."
The transport of the sick and wounded to Balaklava was in itself a sad and terrible picture.
I do not know whether it would not have been even more humane to permit them to die in the mud of the hospital tents.
Sturdy shuddered as he looked at those poor mummies of men, that were gently lifted in their blankets and placed on horseback—the poor horses themselves staggering under the weight.
There was little complaining heard from the pallid sufferers: many seemed even dying as they were hoisted to the backs of the steeds.