Sinope is a very ancient town, situated mostly upon a peninsula, which
juts out from the coast of Anatolia into the Black Sea.
It was once far-famed as the capital city of Mithridates, King of
Pontus, as well as the birth place of Diogenes, of whom, perhaps, more
people have heard, although he was not a King.
After frequent and honorable mention in very ancient history, we, later
on, find it, when it fell into the all-conquering Romans’ power, the
seat of the government of the celebrated Pliny, and the remains of the
aqueduct then built by him are still to be traced in the neighborhood.
In 1470 Mohamet II included it in the Turkish Empire, of which it has
ever since remained a part.
The modern town has about ten thousand people, and presents to the view
of one arriving before it by sea the peculiar, shabby, picturesque
and dilapidated appearance of most third-rate Turkish places, where
red-tiled roofs overhang mouldy, moss-covered, wooden buildings. Here
and there among the dull red of the roofs rises the bright and graceful
minaret of a mosque; while in the background clumps of the funereal
cypress show the spots where the faithful lie at rest. Portions of a
ruinous, turreted wall are to be seen here and there; but there are
no forts or other defences worthy of the name, although for years it
had been a Turkish “military” port, where men-of-war were occasionally
built or repaired.
Perhaps Sinope would never have been heard of in modern times, but for
a naval action which created an unusual sensation throughout both the
Christian and Moslem worlds, and which alienated from the Russians, at
the very beginning of the Crimean War, the sympathy of many who would
otherwise have been favorable to their designs.
The affair about to be narrated was an abuse of superior force, at a
time when war was inevitable, but had not been proclaimed, between
Russia and the Ottoman Porte.
On November 30th, 1853, a Turkish squadron, consisting of seven
frigates, three corvettes, and two steamers, were driven, by stress of
bad weather, into the anchorage of Sinope. In this, their own port of
refuge, they were surprised by the arrival of the Russian Vice Admiral
Nachimoff, with a fleet of two three-decked ships, four 74s, three
frigates, one transport, and three steam-vessels.
Admiral Nachimoff at once summoned the Turkish squadron to surrender to
him. But, in spite of the immense disproportion in force, the Turkish
Admiral resolved to resist his demands to the last extremity, and to
destroy his squadron rather than strike his flag. So about midday, in
response to a formal summons, he opened fire upon the Russians. It
seemed almost like an act of madness, to which he was goaded by the
outrageousness of such a demand made upon him before war was declared;
but we cannot help admiring his desperate courage and determination,
even if it was that of despair; for he could have had no hope of
success against such a force as the Russians had.
This remarkable action, thus begun, was maintained until a full hour
after sunset; the termination of the bloody fight being lighted up
by the flames of the town itself, which had been set on fire by the
Russian shells.
At last the Ottoman squadron was blotted out of existence; and not
till then did the reports of the guns cease, and silence fall upon the
waters of the harbor.
Of the twelve Turkish vessels, eight were sunk outright, at their
anchors, by shot. The Captain of the Mizamiéh, of sixty guns, fought
his ship to the last, with terrible energy, and at last fired his own
magazine, and blew the vessel, and most of those who had survived the
action, to fragments.
The Captain of the Navik, of 52 guns, followed his example, and
immediately blew up his vessel.
The Russian fleet, in spite of their superiority, suffered terribly
from the desperate defence of the Turks. Several of their vessels,
completely dismasted, were obliged to leave Sinope in tow of steamers;
and none of them ever did any more service, for after being for a long
time blockaded in Sebastopol, by the French and English fleets, they
were sunk in that harbor by the Russians themselves.
Although so much of the town was injured by shot and fire, and at least
one hundred and fifty of the inhabitants were killed or burned, strange
to say, a fine fifty-gun steam-frigate, upon the stocks, escaped
destruction. A visitor, soon after the battle, describes the scene as
most heart-rending and depressing, and expresses wonder that more of
the towns-people were not killed, as the fields, inland, were covered
with fragments of the blown up ships, exploded shells, bolts, chains,
spars and planks. An anchor weighing fifteen hundred pounds was blown
inland more than a quarter of a mile.