CHAPTER XXXVIII. WAR IN GRIM EARNEST. Jack and Will, both feeling sore and stiff, went off together to their own lines, and were busy with their horses when Sergeant-major Barrymore came striding along. ‘Oh Blair,’ he cried out, ‘I’ve been looking for you. Get saddled up as quickly as you can; you’ve got to go down to Balaclava with a despatch.’ ‘Right you are, major,’ replied Jack; ‘I’ll just scrape a few pounds of mud off my poor beast, then I’ll be ready.’ Jack was soon on his way, and many a sad sight did he see as he went along. Dozens of poor fellows who had died of exposure during that dreadful night were being carried off for interment. The sufferings of those in the trenches had been terrible, and many a stalwart soldier had succumbed to the fury of the storm. The road to Balaclava was a mere quagmire, and Jack had to struggle along through lines of ammunition-mules, artillery wagons, and so on, the poor exhausted beasts being hardly able to drag the vehicles through the sludge. Dead horses and cattle were scattered all over the country, with the débris of the camp, personal belongings, roofs of huts, and shreds of tents. Balaclava itself far exceeded in filth and dirt anything that Varna had ever been. Its main street was simply a channel of mud, through which horses, camels, mules, soldiers, and sailors, with artillery and transport-wagons, continually fought their way. The air was full of the cries of Turks, Arabs, Italians, Maltese, Greeks, Tartars, Bulgarians, all offering the worst wares at fabulous prices. From the side lanes one heard continually the cries of pain and the prayers of Moslem soldiers dying by dozens of cholera and other diseases. Since their conduct on the 25th of October the Turks had been treated with contempt by the British, and, finding no favour at the camp, had made Balaclava their headquarters, where, neglected by their own government, they had contracted the seeds of disease and made Balaclava a very pest-house. The bodies of the Turks lay sometimes for days where they had died. The stench in these narrow lanes was appalling, and the different forms of human suffering which met the sight at every turn enough to shock the most callous. As Jack’s horse slowly and painfully made its way down towards the harbour, where he had to deliver his despatch, signs of damage done by the great storm met him on every side. Windows were blown in, roofs torn off, and at the neck of the harbour Jack saw two or three large boats which had been driven up inland and smashed to pieces. Floating on the waters of the harbour were trusses of hay, heavy pieces of timber, broken spars and masts, and all sorts of other things, indicating that great damage must have been done to the shipping.