Russian Steamers — Tornado — Destruction of Russian Steamers— Sinope avenged— A Year's Work — Its Effect on the British Army — Destruction of Russian Docks — Opinions of Russian Officers on Prospects of Peace — Medals and Ribands — Celebration of the Alma Anniversary— Honours to French and English Commanders— Encampment of Russian Army — Russian Method of removing Dead and Wounded — Anxiety of British Army and Navy "to do something" — Activity of the Russians— Appearance of Balaklava — What the British Army were doing to kill Time.
As the Russian steamers were intact, notwithstanding the efforts of the French battery at the head of the roads near Inkerman to touch them, it was resolved, on the day after the fall of the place, to construct a battery on the ruins of Fort Paul, within 700 yards of the northern shore, under which they had taken refuge. The steamers lay in three irregular lines to the eastward of Fort Catherine, where the deep creeks in the high cliffs gave them some sort of shelter against the fire of the French. There they had been agents of much mischief and injury to the Allies, from the time of the battle of Inkerman. There was the famous Vladimir, with her two large funnels and elegant clipper hull; the Elbceuf, the steamer which made the celebrated dash into the Black Sea through all our fleet the year before, and burnt some Turkish vessels near Heraclea, just as the Vladimir was seen in Odessa harbour in the month of July, 1854; there was the Gromo?iossetz, which had caused such an annoyance from the Dockyard Creek; the Chersonese, and Odessa; and there were three others with hard, and to me unknown names, as calmly floating on the water as though no eager eyes were watching from every battery to lay a gun upon them. A number of very capacious dockyard lumps and row-boats were also secured in these creeks, or hung on by the steamers.
On the morning of the 11th, about an hour after midnight, an exceedingly violent storm raged over the camp. The wind blew with such fury as to make the hut in which I was writing rock to and fro, at the same time filling it with fine dust. The fires in Sebastopol, fanned by the wind, spread fast, and the glare of the burning city illuminated the whole arch of the sky towards the north-west. At 2 o'clock a.m. the storm increased in strength, and rain fell heavily; the most dazzling flames of lightning shot over the plateau and lighted up the camp; the peals of thunder were so short and startling as to resemble, while they exceeded in noise, the report of cannon. The rain somewhat lessened the intensity of the fire at Sebastopol, but its flames and those of the lightning at times contended for the mastery. There was, indeed, a great battle raging in the skies, and its thunder mocked to scorn our heaviest cannonade. In the whole course of my life I never heard or saw anything like the deluge of rain which fell at 4 o'clock. It
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beat on the roof with a noise like that of a cataract: it was a veritable waterspout. The lightning at last grew fainter, and the gusts less violent. At 9.45 the tornado passed over the camp once more — hail, storm, and rain. The ground was converted into a mass of mud.