“You know him, then?”

“Yes,” replied Hyde, sternly.  “I know him well, but I thought that he was dead.  It is better so; we have a long account to settle, and the day of reckoning will certainly come.”

Thus ended the first collision between the opposing armies:  the first great conflict between European troops since Waterloo.  The credit gained by the victors, whose prowess echoed through the civilised world, was greater, perhaps, than the results achieved.  The Alma, as we shall see, might have paved the way, under more skilful leadership, to a prompt and glorious termination of the war.  But, if it exercised no sufficient influence upon the larger interests of the campaign, the battle greatly affected the prospects of the principal character in this story.

Sergeant-major McKay was presently informed that, in recognition of the signal bravery he had displayed at the storming of the Causeway battery, his name had been submitted to the Queen for an ensign’s commission in the Royal Picts.

CHAPTER XII.

CATCHING A TARTAR.

After their victory at the Alma the allies tarried long on the ground they had gained.  There were many excuses, but no sound reasons, for thus wasting precious moments that would never return.  It was alleged that more troops had to be landed; that the removal of the sick and wounded to ship-board consumed much time; that further progress must be postponed until the safest method of approaching Sebastopol had been discussed in many and lengthy councils of war.

Yet at this moment the great fortress and arsenal lay at their mercy.  They had but to put out their hands to capture it.  Menschikoff’s beaten army was long in rallying, and when at last it resumed the coherence of a fighting force its leader withdrew it altogether from Sebastopol, thus abandoning the fortress to its fate.

Its chief fortifications now were on the northern side, that nearest the allies, and within a short day’s march.  Only one redoubt—­the so-called Star Fort—­was of any formidable strength, and as this was close to the sea-shore it was exposed to the bombardment of the fleets.  But the Star Port lay before the French, supposing that the original order of march was preserved; and the French, exaggerating its powers of resistance, could not be persuaded to face the risks of assault.  The fact was, St. Arnaud lay dying, and for the moment all vigour was gone from the conduct of the French arms.

Little doubt exists to-day that the northern fortifications could not have resisted a determined attack.  That it was not attempted was another grave error; to be followed by yet another, when, after a hazardous detour—­the well-known “flank march”—­the allies transferred themselves to the southern side of Sebastopol, and again neglected a palpable opportunity.  The north side might be fairly well protected; the south was practically defenceless; a few weak earth-works, incomplete, and without artillery, were its only bulwarks; its only garrison were a few militia battalions and some hastily-formed regiments of sailors from the now sunken Russian ships of war.