He trotted up to Lord Paget, who in the absence of Lord Cardigan, still aboard his yacht, was in command. He and Captain Wintle spoke for a few seconds; then Captain Wintle trotted back, crying out to Jack, ‘Follow me, corporal.’ In an instant Jack was in the saddle and trotting after his officer. Increasing their pace to a gallop, they went by the inner line of defence held by the Marines, and were going on towards the town when they met about forty Guardsmen under a young officer marching out. ‘Hallo, Verschoyle,’ cried Captain Wintle, ‘I was just coming in to beat up every man who can fire a musket. The Russians evidently mean to attack the town, and there are only Turks and the Highlanders to hold it till reinforcements come down from the plain.’ ‘We’ve seen that, Wintle, and I and my men are off to join the 93rd. Colonel Davenant is just behind with a hundred invalids. Come with us and see the fun!’ Captain Wintle rode beside the gallant young Guardsman, and they soon reached Sir Colin, who with a grim smile told Verschoyle to take position on the left of the 93rd. The hundred invalids, men of all regiments, a pale and sickly crowd, who were waiting at Balaclava to embark, soon after arriving took up their position on the left of the Guards. Jack had kept close to Captain Wintle, and reaching the top of the ridge he saw the great mass of Russian cavalry still advancing. Presently some squadrons detached themselves and shaped their way towards the Highlanders. These, on account of some casualties they had already suffered from the enemy’s artillery, had retired behind the crest of the hill and lay down. No sooner was the cavalry seen advancing than Sir Colin gave a brisk order, and the Highlanders sprang up and lined the crest. The advancing cavalry seemed hardly to have expected to see infantry; but they came steadily on, when, as though by common consent, the two battalions of Turks turned and fled. This was a serious defection, and it at once became evident to that ‘thin red line’ crowning the hillock in front of Kadikoi that on them, and on them alone, rested the fate of Balaclava. Sir Colin Campbell saw and understood the situation in a moment, and the stern old warrior rode down the lines and said, ‘Men, the safety of Balaclava rests on you. There is no retreat from here. You must die where you stand!’ The Highlanders’ faces lit up; they set their lips, their eyes gleamed, and from between their clenched teeth came the words in a sort of ominous growl,’Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we’ll do that.’ The Russian cavalry resumed their advance, and some of the Highlanders in their wild impetuosity would have rushed down upon their foe; but the angry voice of the chief rang out, ‘93rd--93rd, hang all that impetuosity!’