Chapter 36

the great grief of the whole army.

No one felt it more than McKay, to whom the sad news was broken by his old chief.

"It is very painful to think," said Sir Richard Airey, "that he passed away at the moment of failure; that he was not spared to see the fortress fall--for it must fall."

"Of course it must, sir," said McKay. "This last attack ought to have succeeded. The Russians were in sore straits."

"It was the French who spoiled everything by their premature advance. I knew we could do nothing until they had taken the Malakoff. That is the key of the position."

"You are right, sir. I myself heard Todleben say those very words."

"Did you? That is important intelligence. It must not be forgotten when the time comes to organise a fresh attack."

"I shall be well then, I hope, sir, and able to go in with the first column. I think I could show the way."

"At any rate you can say more than most of us, for you have been actually inside the place."

"And shall be again, if you will only wait another month!" cried McKay.

But the doctors laughed at him when he talked like this.

"You will not be able to put your foot to the ground for three months or more, and then you must make up your mind to crutches for another six."

"I shall not see the next attack, then?"

"No; but you will see England before many weeks are gone. We are going to send you home at once."

"But I had much rather not go--" began McKay.

"It's no use talking; everything is settled."

And so it came to pass. The good ship _Burlington Castle_, Bartholomew Faulks, master, having filled up its complement of invalids and wounded men, including Captain Stanislas McKay, steamed westward about the middle of July.