With beating hearts the boys watched the conflict, and could mark that the British fire grew feebler, and in some places ceased altogether, while the wild yells of the Russians rose louder as they pressed forward exultingly, believing that victory lay within their grasp.

“Things look very bad, Jack,” Allison said.  “Ammunition is evidently failing, and it is impossible for our fellows to hold out much longer against such terrible odds.  What on earth are the French doing all this time?  Our fellows have been fighting single-handed for the last three hours.  What in the world can they be up to?”

And regardless of the storm of bullets, he leaped to his feet and looked round.

“Hurrah, Jack!  Here they come, column after column.  Ten more minutes and they’ll be up.  Hurry up, you lubbers,” he shouted in his excitement; “every minute is precious, and you’ve wasted time enough, surely.  By Jove, they’re only just in time.  There are the Guards falling back.  Don’t you see their bearskins?”

“They are only just in time,” Jack agreed, as he stood beside his comrade.  “Another quarter of an hour and they would have had to begin the battle afresh, for there would have been none of our fellows left.  Hurrah! hurrah!” he cried, as, with a tremendous volley and a ringing shout, the French fell upon the flank of the Russians.

The lads had fancied that before that onslaught the Russians must have given way at once.  But no.  Fresh columns of troops topped the hill, fresh batteries took the place of those which had suffered most heavily by the fire of our guns, and the fight raged as fiercely as ever.  Still, the boys had no fear of the final result.  The French were fairly engaged now, and from their distant camps fresh columns of troops could be seen streaming across the plateau.

Upon our allies now fell the brunt of the fight, and the British, wearied and exhausted, were able to take a short breathing-time.  Then, with pouches refilled and spirits heightened, they joined in the fray again, and, as the fight went on, the cheers of the British and the shouts of the French rose louder, while the answering yell of the Russians grew fainter and less frequent.  Then the thunder of musketry sensibly diminished.  The Russian artillery-men were seen to be withdrawing their guns, and slowly and sullenly the infantry fell back from the ground which they had striven so hard to win.

It was a heavy defeat, and had cost them 15,000 men; but, at least, it had for the time saved Sebastopol; for, with diminished forces, the British generals saw that all hopes of carrying the place by assault before the winter were at an end and that it would need all their effort to hold their lines through the months of frost and snow which were before them.

When the battle was over, Captain Peel returned to the point where he had left the midshipmen, and these followed him back to the camp, where, however, they were not to stay, for every disposable man was at once ordered out to proceed with stretchers to the front to bring in wounded.