Berryman shook his head. “I shall not leave you now, sir,” he replied, adding that if they were made prisoners they would go together. Just at this moment Sergeant Farrell hove in sight, and at Berryman’s call he came over. The retreat of the Light Brigade from the guns was already beginning, and the confusion and danger was augmented by the onslaught of the Russian lancers, who had now ridden down upon the devoted remnant. [Illustration: “I GOT HIM TO STAND AT THE HORSE’S HEAD WHILST I LIFTED THE CAPTAIN OFF.”--_Page 22._] The position of the wounded officer and his helpers was indeed precarious. Bullets and shells were flying by them, and at any moment a Cossack lance might have laid them low. But neither Berryman nor Farrell hesitated or thought of saving his own skin. Making a chair of their hands, they raised the captain from the ground and carried him in this way for some two hundred yards, until Webb’s leg again became very painful. A private of the 13th Dragoons, named Malone, was requisitioned to support the officer’s legs, and another start was made. The rear of the Greys was at last reached in safety, and here the sergeant-major procured a tourniquet which he screwed on to Webb’s right thigh (“I could not have done it better myself,” said the regimental doctor afterwards), together with a stretcher. We will let Berryman take up the story himself at this point. “I and Farrell now raised the stretcher and carried it for about fifty yards, and again set it down. I was made aware of an officer of the Chasseurs d’Afrique being on my left by his placing his hand upon my shoulder. I turned and saluted. Pointing to Captain Webb, but looking at me, he said-- “‘Your officer?’ “‘Yes.’ “‘Ah! and you sergeant?’ looking at the stripes on my arm. “‘Yes.’ “‘Ah! If you were in French service, I would make you an officer on the spot.’ Then, standing in his stirrups and extending his right hand, he said, ‘Oh! it was grand, it was _magnifique_, but it is not war, it is not war!’” This French officer was General Morris. Resuming their task, Berryman and Farrell got the captain to the doctors, who discovered that the shin bone of his leg had been shattered. Farrell turning faint at the sight of the terrible wound, the sergeant-major was instructed to take him away, and this was the cause of bringing him near enough to the Duke of Cambridge and Lord Cardigan to hear the former say as he viewed the remnant that had come “through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell”:-- “Is that all of them? You have lost the finest brigade that ever left the shores of England!” And to Captain Godfrey Morgan, now Viscount Tredegar, who had led the 17th Lancers (thirty-four returned out of one hundred and forty), the Duke could only say, “My poor regiment! My poor regiment!” Sergeant Farrell and Private Malone, as was only fitting, also received the Cross for Valour.