WHILST I was away with the Kertch expedition, the siege was pressed on by the French with great vigour, and our army was actively employed in preparing for the bombardment which was to precede the fall of the place, as all fondly hoped and believed. There were intervals in the day when you might suppose that "villanous saltpetre" had no more to do with a modern siege than an ancient one, and that all this demonstration of a state of conflict was merely an amicable suit upon an extensive scale. There were times at night when angry and sudden explosions sprang up as if by some unaccountable impulse or conjuration, and continued with an impetuosity which seemed as if it intended to finish the whole business in a moment. There were times when the red fusees turned and tumbled in the air like hot coals belched out of a volcano, and danced successive hornpipes upon nothing; then the clatter of small arms broke upon the ear in distant imitation of the heavy artillery, like a little dog yelping in gratuitous rivalry of a big one. The fighting was done by jerks and starts, and the combatants, like Homer's heroes, stood at ease the best part of the time, and took it coolly, meaning deadly mischief all the while. The sharpest onset was generally on the side of our allies, about the Flagstaff or the Quarantine Battery, where they were sedulously advancing their endless mileage of trench and parallel, and promising themselves a result before long.
For the third time our fire was opened along the whole range of positions on the 6th of June. At half-past two o'clock on that day 157 guns and mortars on our side, and above 300 on that of the French, awoke from silence to tumult.
The two armies — one might say the four armies, but that the Turks and Sardinians were not expected to take a very prominent part in the trench-work and assault — were in strength equal to any achievement, and in spirits ever chiding the delay, and urging that one touch of the bayonet which made all the world scamper. If the strategic necessity pointed to some more decisive{283} action this time, so, on the other hand, the intention of going beyond a vain cannonade was tolerably plain. Our fire was kept up for the first three hours with excessive rapidity, the Russians answering by no means on an equal scale, though with considerable warmth. On our side the predominance of shells was very manifest, and distinguished the present cannonade in some degree even from the last. The superiority of our fire over the enemy became apparent at various points before nightfall, especially in the Redan, which was under the especial attention of the Naval Brigade. The Russians displayed, however, plenty of determination and bravado. They fired frequent salvos at intervals of four or six guns, and also, by way of reprisals, threw heavy shot up to our Light Division and on to the Picquet-house-hill. After dark the animosity on both sides gave signs of relaxing, but the same relative advantage was maintained by our artillery. It was a sultry day, with the dull mist of extreme heat closing down upon the valleys, and with no air to rend away the curtain of smoke which swayed between the town and our batteries; and at night flashes of lightning in the north-east made a counter-illumination on the rear of our position.
A still and sluggish atmosphere, half mist, half gunpowder, hung about the town in the early morning of June the 7th, and the sun enfilading the points of view from the horizon, telescopes were put out of joint. The Redan, however, which rose up boldly in front of the hills that sloped from Cathcart's Mound, gave some evidence of having yielded to rough treatment, the jaws of its embrasures gaping, and its fire being irregular and interrupted.
At nine a cool, strong breeze sprang up, and continued throughout the day. The whole range of fire from right to left became visible in a bright sun, that for once was not scorching. The enemy either could not or would not keep up a very vigorous reply. All the early part of the day we had the work very much to ourselves.
About eleven o'clock a shell from the Russians exploded a magazine in our eight-gun battery, and a yell of delight followed. Very slight harm resulted — one man was killed, one wounded, and a few scorched a little. As the day wore on, it leaked out that the double attack would probably commence at five or six P.M. An immense concourse of officers and men was gathered on Cathcart's Hill, and along the spines of the heights which wind towards Sebastopol. The fire on our side assumed a sudden fury about three o'clock.