Behind the squadron of Inniskillings were two of the Scots Greys, and these formed up on the left of the column. The 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards and the Royals were following, making, with the other squadron of the Inniskillings, eight squadrons in all; but Scarlett had with him at the moment but three, the gallant ‘Three Hundred.’ Hardly had the General announced his determination of charging the enemy than they came over the ridge and began to descend the slope, an enormous mass, nearly forty squadrons of Lancers, Hussars, Dragoons, and Cossacks, all, with the exception of one Hussar corps in pale-blue, clad in dark-gray overcoats, which seemed to be the distinguishing badge of Russian troops. Seeing the handful of red-coated Dragoons below them, they started forward at a smart canter. Greys and Inniskillings, however, were going on calmly with dressing their line, the officers facing their men and seeing that the line was dressed with nicety. Captain Wintle had remained near General Scarlett, and Jack remained with his officer. The advancing Russians--seeing the calmness with which the British cavalry prepared for the attack, apparently ignoring the fact that the enemy was in sight--as though fearing an ambush, slackened their pace to a trot, then to a walk, then halted altogether. ‘Will you lead the charge, or will you direct, sir?’ asked Lieutenant Elliot of his chief, saluting with his sword. ‘I shall lead, by all means,’ said the gallant old General. ‘Lord Lucan is on the ground and in supreme command; as its brigadier I will lead my brigade.’ The Inniskillings were eager to be off, and several men seemed inclined to start; but the General waved them back, saying, ‘Back, men; the Greys are not ready.’ When the line was dressed to his satisfaction, the General, ignoring the intermediate steps of trot, canter, and gallop, said simply to his trumpeter, ‘Sound the charge;’ and as the notes rang out the squadrons started forward. Captain Wintle rode behind the General, and Jack followed him, keeping almost in a line with General Scarlett’s trumpeter and orderly. The General himself, mounted on an immense bay horse, was fully fifty yards in front. No matter what happened, he was determined to be first among the enemy. These, with a precision that showed they were highly trained troops, had thrown out two huge wings on either flank as though, when the Dragoons had passed, to close in on them and cut off their retreat. From the start the distance was only about four hundred yards; but at first the pace was slow, owing to the litter of the camp over which they moved. The Russian cavalry had a depth of fully twenty files and a frontage thrice that of the handful of heavy Dragoons, every man of whom knew that it was absolutely impossible to hurl such a mass back by mere shock; all they could hope to do was to carve their way in and to ply their swords until they fell. This was all they asked.