RUSSIA COLLAPSES
Early in September 1855 it was generally known that the game was nearly
up with the Russians. Sebastopol could not hold out much longer. The
bombarding had been very heavy and constant for some days. On the 7th
of that month the combined Fleets made all preparations to attack the
forts in conjunction with the land batteries. We prepared for action,
got all our upper masts down, unrove a deal of rope, placed shot about
the deck, and demolished all bulkheads; and when once the splinter
nettings were placed we knew that business was meant. Steam was ready
in the early morning of the 8th of September, and, after ceaseless
blockading, we felt that our turn to be up and doing had come.
Alas, we were mistaken. It came on to blow a gale dead-onshore. About
9 A.M. our Commander-in-Chief signalled to the French Admiral, “Do you
think it advisable to weigh and attack?” What was answered I do not
remember. Suffice it to say that, after all the excitement of a coming
ding-dong, we remained at anchor. Wiser heads took the responsibility.
The south side fell that day. We watched the huge explosions of the
forts on that side. It was indeed a grand sight,--the enormous columns
of smoke, dust, and _débris_ flying majestically into the air in
great shoots, and dense clouds of it hanging thickly at the base. On
the second day this continued. We could also plainly see streams of
soldiers crossing the bridge of boats over the harbour to the north
side, where Fort Constantine still stood out unscathed. I think many of
the Russian ships-of-war were sunk in the harbour at that juncture.
Early in October we were ordered to embark the 63rd Regiment of the
Line; and, together with a goodly company of other ships with troops on
board, we left for Odessa, where, it seems, we made a reconnaissance
only, our real object being Kimburn, a fortified spit near the entrance
of the Sea of Azov. Arriving off Kimburn, we transferred our freight of
soldiers to the _Vulcan_, transport ship, and prepared to attack the
fortifications. I find myself writing home by next mail as follows:--
We arrived at this place, Kimburn, about 3 P.M., and anchored
about two and a half miles off the forts in very shallow water.
Nothing happened that afternoon, and we commenced preparing for
action for the following day, being sure we should attack, but it
was postponed. They say it was all Admiral Bruat’s fault (French
Admiral), for Lyons cannot do anything without his permission, as
he is much the senior. We then thought our turn would come the
next day. But it did not, and we found it was all old Bruat’s
fault, for he will have nothing to do with it. Admiral Lyons was
very much put out about this, for depend upon it, that if he had
been alone I really believe he would have gone in the day we
arrived; but he was determined to do something, so he ordered all
the mortar-boats to commence shelling the place, which consisted
of nine forts and houses. The following day our Admiral made the
signal to old Bruat:--“This is a fine day to attack.” Answer was
“Agreeable.” So at 12 o’clock we got under weigh and steamed in,
firing our long pivot gun, a solid 68-pounder, occasionally, but
not without receiving some shots in return, and some not pleasant
at all. Whish! whish! on they came by the dozen. When about 600
yards from the centre battery we anchored and put a spring in
our cable, so as to keep our broadside well on to the forts. All
this was only the work of a few minutes, when we let drive from
our whole 46 guns as hard as we could, firing occasionally with
moorsom shell as well as round shot--such a row, and such dense
smoke as was never seen or heard. I was constantly sent down with
messages to direct the firing, but it was nigh impossible to
make myself heard to the officers of the quarters, and the smoke
between decks was so dense I could see absolutely nothing, and felt
suffocated into the bargain. I must say I was awfully anxious to
go in, but on the other hand equally glad to come out. We blazed
at them for one hour and a half before they surrendered; we sent
in a flag of truce and asked them if they had had enough of it
and wished to surrender, which they readily acquiesced in. I then
saw them sending down their troops to the beach, with their arms
and knapsacks, and piling them on the beach. We gave the forts an
awful pounding and completely smothered them. I must tell you that
two French floating batteries bombarded the place all the morning
before we went in, so they deserve more than half the credit of
taking the place. There were several forts. I fear they suffered
considerable loss. I believe we were the only ship that got knocked
about a bit: we were struck in several places. Our mizen topsail
yard was shot away and our side hit, but we only had one man
wounded; and a good deal of rigging was cut to pieces. I am quite
a warrior now, three times under fire out here. Yesterday I went
ashore to see the place, which was almost knocked down and full
of our shot and broken shell. I picked up a few curios, such as a
bayonet and a looking-glass, also a Cossack’s stirrup iron, and a
piece of the Russian Union Jack, which I will enclose. I hear we
killed and wounded a great many; I saw a lot of dead bodies. All
our launches went ashore the first evening after the bombardment,
and brought off lots of wounded Russians to be cared for on board;
good practice for our doctors.
We have taken 1500 prisoners. I think I have told you all for this
mail, except that in the midst of the fight, I was standing on the
poop as usual, when I saw our Turkish pilot suddenly fall head over
heels backwards in a large tub of water we had on deck in case of
fire. I thought he was killed, instead of which I feel sure he
fell back from dire funk, because a shot whisked past his head. I
could not help laughing, as indeed we all did.
Such were my descriptions. I evidently condensed my subjects. But
I well recollect feeling pity for the poor Russians, who were so
unmercifully hammered by the broadsides of so many line-of-battle
ships, our 32-pounders working complete destruction and levelling the
forts. At times I could see our shot flying into the fort only 600
yards off. As quick-firing meant approximately three rounds a minute
from each gun of a liner’s battery, the number of rounds fired can be
imagined; though we could not keep it up long at that rate. Captain
Jones always wore a tall black beaver hat (which was considered uniform
in those days) with what we called a lightning conductor--nothing more
nor anything less than a piece of broad gold lace from the crown to the
brim. It was an economical costume: off came the lightning conductor
when the Captain landed, and he was out of uniform. After the firing
ceased his hat caused some merriment: it was white from the smoke of
the gunpowder adhering to the nap.
We left Kimburn next day, still thinking that Odessa was to be
bombarded; but, instead of going thither, we returned to our old
diggings off Sebastopol. The sailing squadron was now ordered home,
and the Naval Brigade re-embarked; and there was nothing left for
the Fleet to do, as the south side of Sebastopol had fallen and the
Russians were in a state of collapse. So, to our infinite joy, we were
ordered to take a cruise into the Mediterranean: to while away the
time, and await events.