The total capture was forty-two wagons loaded with provisions; some drawn by two horses, some by three or four. Sir George was delighted with the capture, and the handful of Lancers returned in great spirits, being greeted with cheers from the troops who had already assembled on the beach. No other cavalry had been landed; and, as Jack’s troop off-saddled, Barrymore said, ‘What did you think of your first skirmish, Jack?’ ‘I thought it was fine fun,’ replied Jack, ‘and I hope I shall see more such.’ ‘I don’t think it would have been quite such fun for you, Jack,’ said Pearson, who had overheard the remark, ‘if I hadn’t been just behind you and skewered that snub-nosed Cossack officer with my lance. I fancy if he had got another cut in at you you would have lost the number of your mess to-night.’ ‘Then my grateful thanks are due to you,’ said Jack; and they fell to eating their evening meal. The sky had got very black and the wind moaned in fitful gusts. The men had been landed without tents or baggage of any kind, and they had to bivouac on the bare ground. The rain fell in torrents, and in their thin uniforms the men were soon drenched to the skin. Besides which, the night was wretchedly cold, with a wind that seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of their bones. Grumbling was heard on all sides, mingled, alas! with the groans of poor fellows who, thoroughly ill and weakened from their long stay at the camps of Aladyn and Devna, grew rapidly worse during the exposure of that terrible night, and who ere long had met that most inglorious of soldiers’ fates, death by disease. Jack tried several times to sleep; but each time he awoke, wet and shivering, to find himself lying in a pool of water. At last he got up and walked about, passing the remainder of the night nestling close to Dainty, who was fully as uncomfortable as was her master. CHAPTER XX. CAUGHT IN A TRAP. The reflections of the men who had been landed were bitter indeed as they began their first day in the Crimea. The morning was rough and boisterous. The sea was breaking on the shore with a thundering roar, and the wind was blowing half a hurricane. A mournful procession of bearers carrying litters were making their way down to the beach. On the litters, their faces covered with their blankets, were the poor fellows who had died of cholera, aggravated by exposure, during the night. They were to be taken out to sea for burial. In spite of the rough sea the disembarkation was proceeded with; but it was not until the afternoon, when the violence of the storm had somewhat abated, that the rest of the cavalry and the artillery could be landed. The next day the whole of the cavalry went out on small reconnaissances; but no signs of any enemy could be seen. The weather improved, and that night, over their camp-fires, the men felt much more cheerful.