The staff advanced first on the town, and were proceeding to enter it, when, to their surprise, from some old forts above came four spirts of smoke, and down came four shells close to them. The dose of shell was repeated; but by this time the Agamemnon outside the rocks was heard busily sending her shot against the fort. After a few rounds the fort was summoned, hung out a flag of truce, and surrendered. There were only sixty men—all made prisoners.
As Lord Raglan entered at noon the principal street, the inhabitants came out to meet him, bearing trays laden with fruit and flowers. Others bore loaves of bread cut up in pieces and placed on dishes covered with salt, in token of goodwill and submission. The fleet and army were once more united. Lord Raglan had secured his base of operations. Towards evening the huge bulk of the Agamemnon glided in between the rocks of the entrance, to the joy and delight of all on shore.
“October 3.—Sebastopol is not yet invested. It is only threatened on the south and south-east side by the army, while the fleet attacks it from the east. There is an enormous boom across the entrance, and many ships have been sunk close to shore. The Russians can throw shot further from their batteries than we can from our decks. Their shot went over us the other day when ours were falling 500 yards short.
“Since we landed in the Crimea as many have died of cholera as perished at the Alma. The deserters say that thirty Russian ladies went out of Sebastopol to see the Alma battle, as though they were going to a picnic. They were quite assured of the success of the Russian troops, and great was their dismay when they had to fly for their lives.
“Bad news to-day about the Dragoons’ horses. Some 200 horses coming from Varna have perished en route. The sea ran high: fittings and horse-boxes gave way, and the horses got loose upon the deck, and were killed or washed overboard.
“October 9.—An amusing incident has happened. Towards noon a large ship, under Austrian colours, was seen standing in towards Sebastopol. The Russian Fort Constantine opened fire on her at 2,500 yards, but the ship paid no attention to the shot and shell which flew over her. The other Russian batteries followed suit; still the Austrian cared not. Not a sheet did she slack, while the shot struck her hull and rigging. She came right past the batteries, and passed them unscathed, nearing the shore as she came. The Firebrand went to her assistance, and received several shot in her hull while doing so, but Captain Stuart persevered and brought her off. What do you think? Why, she had been deserted by her crew when the wind failed and she was getting too near Sebastopol. But she was laden with 600 tons of hay for the English army. Her escape is almost miraculous, but it is a proof of the bad gunnery of the Russians.
“October 13.—It is now eighteen days since our army, by a brilliant march on Balaklava, obtained its magnificent position on the south side of Sebastopol. Up to this moment not a British or French gun has replied to the fire of the enemy. The Russians have employed the interval in throwing up earthworks, trenches, and batteries, to cover the south side of the town.
“The delay had been quite unavoidable. We had to send all our guns and material round by sea, and land it as best we could. All these enormous masses of metal were to be dragged by men or a few horses over a steep and hilly country a distance of eight miles. You have some idea of the severity of the work in the fact that on the 10th no less than thirty-three ammunition horses were found dead. We had now opened out about 1,500 yards of trench fit for the reception of heavy guns.
“‘Jack’ made himself very useful to us. The only thing against him was that he is too strong. He pulls strong carts to pieces as if they were toys; he piles up shot-cases in the waggons till the horses fall under the weight, for he cannot understand ‘the ship starting till the hold is full.’ But it is most cheering to meet a lot of these jolly fellows working up a gun to the camp: from a distance you can hear a hearty English chorus borne on the breeze. The astonishment of the stupid, fur-capped Crim Tartars, as they stare at the wondrous apparition of our hairy Hercules, is ludicrous to a degree; but ‘Jack’ salutes every foreigner who goes by with the same cry, ‘Bono, Johnny!’ and still the song proceeds.