All sorts of rumours were current. Sometimes it was said that the war had been abandoned, and that the troops were to return to England without having struck a blow; sometimes it was said they were at once to proceed to Sebastopol. But still they stayed on at Devna, apparently forgotten, till one August day an aide-de-camp arrived from Lord Raglan, bearing orders for the cavalry and Light Division of infantry to return to Varna and embark, for whence no one seemed to know. No one, however, cared so long as they were going from Devna, and not one who gazed for the last time on the rich meadows and wooded heights, the verdant hillsides and the dancing waters of lake and stream, but hoped in his heart he should never see them again. Varna was found much altered; the place was still packed with troops, both French and British, though thousands had died. They had been buried everywhere. Limbs could be seen sticking up out of the sand, dead bodies rose from the bottom of the harbour and bobbed about in a hideous fashion, while the places which had been set apart as cemeteries were full to overflowing. Many of the regiments were merely skeletons; the 5th Dragoon Guards had lost so many officers and men that for a time it was disregimented and joined with the 4th Dragoons. Still, a move was at hand, and all were hoping to see the last of Varna. Soon after Jack with his regiment returned to Varna a great fire broke out and raged for ten hours. A French spirit-shop had been set fire to by a Greek, and though the man had been cut down to the chin by a French officer the mischief had been done, and in spite of great efforts half Varna was laid in ruins, immense quantities of stores being lost. The preparations for the embarkation were pushed forward; hundreds of transports filled the bay of Varna, and the fleet assembled there. The narrow lanes of the town were constantly blocked with mules and carts on their way to the beach with luggage, while the whole day long detachments of men were being marched down and embarked. At last all were on shipboard and ready; but then another delay occurred while waiting for the French. After two days, during which time many more men died of cholera, the signal was given, and the huge armada stood out to sea. It was then known that their destination was Sebastopol, and Jack’s heart beat high with hopes that they would at least have one brush with the Russians. Very bad weather was experienced; but, after a rough voyage of nine days, on a beautiful evening land was made and the anchors dropped. All craned their necks to get their first sight of that Crimea on which was to be fought some of the mightiest fights of modern days. Low lying, sun-scorched plains were seen, among which farmhouses and what was taken to be cattle could be distinguished. Those regiments which had bands made the bay echo with their music, and the trumpets of the cavalry added to the martial sounds.