The first fighting fell to Evans, but at the moment of his advance the enemy set fire to the village of Bourliouk, which burst up into instantaneous flames, and Evans, to avoid it, drew one brigade--Pennefather’s--to the left, and sent the other--Adams’--by a long _détour_ to his right, where it was in touch with the French. All Pennefather’s men got across the river, but were stayed by the fierce fire of the causeway batteries; and one of his regiments--the 95th--crushed in by the right of the Light Division, joined it and its fortunes for the rest of the day. Evans had thus only three battalions left, and with so scanty a force he could make no impression: he could but simply hold his ground beyond the river. [Illustration: “THEN YOUNG ANSTRUTHER RACED FORWARD” (_p._ 178).] Part of the Light Division, the right, or Codrington’s Brigade, was soon engaged in a weightier battle. The left, or Buller’s, also moved forward, but being entrusted with the protection of the exposed flank of the whole army, two of its regiments were held in hand while the rest became involved in Codrington’s attack; for this gallant soldier was no sooner across the river with his regiments all disorganised, and in no sort of formation, than he led them immediately forward. His superior officer, the divisional general, Sir George Brown, was not within hail, and Codrington felt that his plain duty was to go ahead. He himself headed the desperate charge upon the Great Redoubt, which was now made in quite inferior numbers, and in the teeth of a murderous fire of big guns. His colonels, especially Lacy Yea of the 7th Fusiliers, took the cue, and springing to the front cried to their men: “Come on--never mind forming! Come on anyhow.” “Forward! forward!” was the universal cry of all; pell-mell, higgledy-piggledy, but always straight on, the first brigade of the Light Division rushed up the slope. The Russians were really in tremendous strength. There were heavy columns of them all around; the Redoubt was armed with twelve big guns, yet they could not resist an onslaught which seemed only the vanguard of an imposing attack. There was another cause, no doubt, for their weakness, as we shall presently see; but now already they were limbering up their guns and going to the rear. Then young Anstruther, a mere boy fresh from school, raced forward with the Queen’s colour of the 23rd, and placed it triumphantly on the crown of the breastworks. He was shot dead, the colour falling with him. A sergeant, Luke O’Connor, following close, succeeded to his mission, and raised the flag erect. [Illustration: MARSHAL ST. ARNAUD.]