Ralph had before starting filled a canteen with brandy and water at the suggestion of Captain O'Connor.
"The less you drink, lad, while on the march the better; but the chances are you will find by night that every drop is worth its weight in gold.

If you have the bad luck to be wounded yourself, the contents of the canteen may save your life; and if you don't want it yourself, you may be sure that there will be scores of poor fellows to whom a mouthful will be a blessing indeed." So Ralph had found it.

He had drunk very sparingly on the way, scarcely permitting himself to do more than to wet his lips; but when he set about the work of collecting the wounded, he felt more than amply rewarded for his little self-sacrifice by the grateful thanks of the poor fellows to whom he was able to give a mouthful of his hoarded store.

It was not until his return to the bivouac, after his hour's turn of duty, that he learned the extent of the loss of the regiment.
He knew by the smallness of the number who mustered for the search how much his own company had suffered, and in the brief intervals in the struggle he had heard something of what was doing elsewhere.
Lieutenant Desmond had fallen early in the fight, shot through the heart as the light companies went out to oppose the French skirmishers.

Captain O'Connor had received a lance wound through his arm; but had made a sling of his sash, and had kept his place at the head of his company.
The officers were all gathered round a fire when Ralph returned to the bivouac.
"I see you have your arm in a sling, O'Connor," he said.