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.