All this time the French were not prospering. Bosquet still clung, isolated, upon the west cliff; Canrobert had climbed it, but had made no forward movement; Prince Napoleon stood halted, irresolute, on the safe side of the river. The Russian general in command of the centre, which was posted around the Telegraph Height, now put in motion eight of his battalions, in dense double column, and crossed the plateau to smite Canrobert, who forthwith crumbled back over the cliff. He had supports at hand--a brigade (D’Aurelle’s) of Forey’s Division, which was on the hilly road jammed in between him and Prince Napoleon, and the Prince himself was close behind; but these supports were in marching columns, with no frontage for attack, and could not help Canrobert. Had Kiriakoff, the Russian general, pressed on, he would probably have completely “rolled up” the French. But he paused, and the battle meanwhile passed into a fresh phase. Strange as it may seem, the turning-point in the action was a hazardous, and, speaking by the book, a perfectly indefensible step taken by the English commander-in-chief. Lord Raglan, with his staff and a few dragoons--not twenty horsemen in all--had ridden boldly, blindly, into the very centre of the enemy’s line. He had gone down towards Bourliouk, but avoiding the burning village, and, anxious to see what was in progress beyond the river, had dashed into it, crossed, and galloped up the opposite slope. He came out at a point under the Telegraph Height and _above_ the causeway, and thence could survey at ease--for no enemy, happily, was near enough to injure him--the whole state of the battle. Better still, he looked into the enemy’s line of defence, taking it in reverse, and realised at once the supreme advantage his really dangerous position gave him. “If only we had a couple of guns up here!” he cried, and two artillery officers--Dacres and Dickson, who rode with his staff--dashed off to fetch them, while General Airey was sent to bring up the nearest infantry, Adams’ brigade of Evans’ 2nd Division. The messengers found Turner’s battery struggling across the ford, and Turner himself hurried up two of his guns, which were soon unlimbered and worked--one, at least--by Colonel Dickson’s own hands. [Illustration: The Battle of the ALMA.]