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 Elbœuf, 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 Gromonossetz, 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{369} 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.
In the course of the afternoon some of the Russian guns in the ruined battery below the Redan were turned on these steamers, and in a few rounds — not more than twelve, I think — succeeded in hulling them eight times. The range was, however, rather long, and it became expedient to move a little nearer. On Tuesday evening, when Lieutenant Gough, of the London — who commanded in the Naval Batteries on the Left Attack — came down with his men, he was ordered to take his relief over to the Right Attack and to accompany Lieutenant Anderson, R.E., down to the town, in order to erect a battery for two 95-cwt. guns on the right of St. Paul's Battery. The site of this battery was about 700 yards from Fort Catherine, on the opposite side. The men, although deprived of the quiet night and undisturbed repose they anticipated, set to work with a will, and began throwing up the parapet and filling gabions; and as it was possible that some interruption of the work might take place from the other side, a covering party of 120 men was ordered down from the trenches. There were French sentries in charge of this portion of the place, and the little party found that their Allies were on the qui vive, and were keeping a sharp look-out on all sides. The men had been working some time, when it was observed that one of the enemy's steamers had left the north side, and was slowly and noiselessly dropping down to the very spot where the sailors and the covering party were at their labours. The night was dark, but they could clearly make out the steamer edging down upon them, and coming closer and closer. Every moment they expected their guns to open upon them with grape and canister. The men, therefore, lay down upon their faces, and kept as near to the ground as they could, and the steamer came over gently till she was within about 100 yards of the very spot where they had been working. They heard her anchor splash into the water, and then the rattle of her cable as it ran through the hawsehole. Now, certainly, they were "going to catch it," but, no — the Russian opened no port and showed no light, but seemed to be making himself comfortable in his new quarters.