On Saturday morning we were safely anchored off the Water Gate in Sevastopol harbour, and remained there a few days to recruit our somewhat exhausted strength.
Each day brought sad accounts of the numerous wrecks that had taken place in this storm, the most severe that has been known for years.
Amongst other catastrophes, it gave us a great shock to hear of the total loss of the Persian emigrant steamer that we had seen at Sinope. She went down very suddenly early on Thursday morning. A mate and three seamen clung to a spar, were picked up, and brought to Kamiesch. Every other soul on board perished. The men say the vessel was leaky and overladen. It was frightful to think that all those poor creatures we had seen only a few days ago had met with so terrible an end.
The papers are full of the disasters that have taken place.
Before entering the Bosphorus we met the English man-of-war kindly sent by our friends at Constantinople in search of us, for our lengthened absence and the tremendous gale had alarmed them for our safety.
The next day we were at Therapia, perfectly happy, not only in the rest of so charming a haven, but in being once more with most dear and valued friends.
THE END.