Sailing from Varna towards their goal had afforded Gale some of the greatest spectacles of his life. At about one hundred miles from Sebastopol the fleet – some one thousand strong – had had the order to cast anchor. On every side were ships, and such ships! There was the Trafalgar and the Himalaya and the Golden Fleece and countless others besides, four-masted ships and steamers and transports and rafts, siege-trains and magazines and steam tugs; all stretching away in every direction for what seemed to be miles into the distance. They lay entirely out of sight of land. Providence had seemed to favour their designs, for there was uninterrupted calm over those days while they waited in the Black Sea: not so much as a breath of wind disturbed them. During the clear nights the waters were splashed by stars. In the evenings all the bands played, their gay music echoing out across the still, dark water. Gusts of men’s laughter rippled sometimes across the deep. The lamps on each vessel had shone with such brightness, like brilliants laid out against a jeweller’s black velvet. The sight was so affecting that he had almost fancied himself in the midst of some highly lighted town. ‘It was more like the view from one of the London bridges at night than anything else,’ he wrote to Alice. ‘A lovelier sight you cannot conceive.’

Derrington had been by his side then as they looked out across the illuminated fleet, its brilliance doubled by the myriad spots of reflected light dancing gently on the sea. Now his friend greeted him as he returned to their tent, the sombre task of attending Algernon’s remains completed. He could tell from the younger man’s expression that he already knew the worst. ‘I daresay you’ll be needing to write some letters,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go and see if I can beg a hen’s egg from Bourke, to fortify you.’ Bourke had somehow managed to procure three or four hens and had spent two whole days in constructing a miniature camp for them. The eggs secured him extra tobacco, porter and much else besides. As Derrington made off, he felt his eyes quicken: kindness had a way of bringing a fellow closer to tears than any barbarity. He was grateful that he would have a moment alone, to himself. He felt he could not have borne to answer, just now, any questions about his brother.