The fight had lasted an hour and three quarters, and in that time we had lost more men than at Inkerman.  Our loss was 24 officers and 119 men killed; 134 officers, and 1897 men wounded.  Had the regiments engaged been composed of the same materials as those who won the heights of the Alma, the result might have been different, although even in that case it is questionable whether the small force told off for the assault would have finally maintained itself against the masses which the Russians brought up against them.  But composed as they were of young troops, many being lads sent off to the front a few weeks after being recruited, the success of such an attack, so managed, was well-nigh impossible from the first.

It was a gloomy evening in the British camps.  We were defeated, while the French were victorious.  The fact, too, that the attack had failed in some degree owing to the misconduct of the men added to the effect of the failure.  It was said that the attack was to be renewed next morning, and that the Guards and Highland Brigade were to take part in it.  Very gloomy was the talk over the tremendous loss which had taken place among the officers.  From the manner in which these had exposed themselves to induce their men to follow them, their casualties had been nearly four times as large as they should have been in proportion to their numbers.

Jack Archer was in deep grief, for his brother had been severely wounded, and the doctors gave no strong hopes of his life.  He had been shot in the hip, as he strove to get the men of his company together, and had been carried to the rear just before the Russian advance drove the last remnants of the assailants from the salient.

Jack had, with the permission of his commanding officer, gone to sit by his brother’s bedside, and to give his services generally as a nurse to the wounded.

At eleven o’clock the hut was shaken by a tremendous explosion, followed a few minutes afterwards by another.  Several of the wounded officers begged Jack to go to Cathcart’s Hill, to see what was doing.

Jack willingly complied, and found numbers of officers and men hastening in the same direction.  A lurid light hung over Sebastopol, and it was evident that something altogether unusual was taking place.

When he reached the spot from which he could obtain a view of Sebastopol, a wonderful sight met his eye.  In a score of places the town was on fire.  Explosion after explosion followed, and by their light, crowds of soldiers could be seen crossing the bridge.  Hour after hour the grandeur of the scene increased, as fort after fort was blown up by the Russians.  At four o’clock the whole camp was shaken by a tremendous explosion behind the Redan, and a little later the magazines of the Flagstaff and Garden batteries were blown up, and the whole of the Russian fleet, with the exception of the steamers, had disappeared under the water, scuttled by their late owners.  At half-past five two of the great southern forts, the Quarantine and Alexander, were blown up, and soon flames began to ascend from Fort Nicholas.