On, on, ever on they went, Jack keeping his eyes on the crimson overalls and scarlet pelisse, blazing with gold, of Lord Cardigan, who, with his admirable seat in the saddle and his sword carried at the slope, without turning to right or left, led that line of horsemen straight for the mouths of the guns. Presently a great white cloud of smoke appeared in front, and from the twelve guns facing them another torrent of shot and shell was poured upon them. Assailed on front and flanks, the fury of the hail of death was indescribable. The excitement of the men reached fever-heat. ‘Forward! forward!’ they cried. ‘Let us get at the guns.’ Captain Norreys increased the pace and was soon alongside Lord Cardigan, who put out his sword across the Lancer’s breast. ‘Don’t pass the leader of the brigade,’ he said sternly; and Captain Norreys fell back. A second round from the battery in front came crashing through the already torn and mangled ranks; then Lord Cardigan waved his sword and increased his pace. ‘Charge!’ cried Captain Norreys; and Jack jerked out a note or two as they literally raced along.[5] ‘Who is there here would ask another man from England?’ quoted Brandon, bringing his lance down to the ‘engage.’ Hardly had the words left his lips when a nine-pounder ball took him in the face, and his brains were scattered on Jack and Pearson, between whom he was at that moment riding. Sergeant Linham, on the left of Jack, was riding with set lips, a hard light shining in his eyes. ‘A little farther, you toads,’ he cried, ‘and then we shall be in amongst ’em! Remember the motto of our regiment, “Death or Glory!”’ The line was then so torn that all cohesion was lost; they were advancing in clumps and clusters. Captain Wintle, Cornet Leland, Sir William Lennox, Sergeant Linham, Brittain, Pearson, and Jack were all together, just to the right rear of Lord Cardigan, when the guns in front, not eighty yards away, were all fired simultaneously. The flash from the muzzles seemed almost to burn and blind the devoted riders advancing upon them, a shower of grape swept through them, and almost the whole of the front rank vanished. Jack just had time to notice that he and Linham were the only two left of all who had been together a moment before; then they were in the smoke of the guns, past the gleaming brass muzzles, and in amongst the leather-helmeted artillerymen, cutting and thrusting with the anger of men who have seen their best comrades blown to pieces. Jack found himself opposed to an immense, beetle-browed fellow, who aimed a blow at him with a rammer. Jack drew his pistol and immediately shot him through the head. Another artilleryman made a cut at him with his sword, but Jack clove his head and made a point at another fellow, who crept under the wheels of his gun to escape. Vain hope, a Lancer behind Jack saw him, and in another moment had pinned him to the ground with his lance.