THE sea was too rough on the 16th of October to open fire, but every preparation was made for the day following. It was a dull, grey dawn, with the wind off shore, and the sea was quite calm.{410} Early in the morning, the Russians in the Fort of Kinburn, perceiving that the French had crept up to a ruined village during the night, and that they were busily engaged in making their first parallel, under cover of the houses, at about 650 or 700 yards from the place, opened a brisk fire upon them from the guns en barbette in the eastern curtain. They were answered by two French field-pieces from the screen of a broken wall. The fleet at anchor was perfectly still, but the mortar-vessels, floating batteries, and gun-boats were getting up steam, and by nine o'clock they might be seen leaving the rest of the armada, and making towards the south side of the fort. The three French floating batteries took up a position close to the casemates, and the mortar-vessels and gun-boats were drawn up further away, and more to the eastward, so as to attack the angle of the fort, and fight the guns en barbette on the curtains. The floating batteries opened with a magnificent crash, at 9.30 A.M., one in particular distinguished itself by the regularity, precision, and weight of its fire throughout the day. At 10.10 A.M. the bomb ketches opened fire. The enemy replied with alacrity, but his batteries must have been put to a severe test. At 11.10 A.M. a fire broke out in the long barrack inside the fort, and speedily spread from end to end, driving the artillerymen from their guns. Small explosions of ammunition took place from time to time inside the works.
At 11.15 A.M. the Russian Jack was shot away, and was not replaced. The fire in the fort raged more furiously, fed by constant bombs and rockets, and at 12.35 a fresh conflagration burst out. Soon afterwards Admiral Stewart, in the Valorous, and the French Admiral (second in command), in the Asmodée, followed by a fleet of eleven steamers, came round the Spit Battery into Cherson Bay, delivering broadsides and engaging the fort and outworks as they passed. They were preceded by the Hannibal, which completely ripped up the sand batteries on the Spit. The Valorous, Asmodée, steam frigates, and nine line-of-battle ships took up their position in magnificent style opposite the seaward face of the fort, which was already seriously damaged by the tremendous fire of the floating batteries, gun-boats, and mortar-vessels, and Kinburn was soon entirely in flames. The Russian fire was quite silenced, save from one gun. The second in command, whose name was something like Saranovitzky — a Pole by birth — inflamed by courage and its Dutch ally, declared he would not surrender, and prepared to blow up the magazine before the enemy should enter. In this resolve he was supported by the officer of engineers and by the officer of artillery. Amid the crash of falling buildings, the explosions of shells, the thunder of the fleet, and the smoke and flame of their crumbling houses and batteries, the Russians held a council of war, at which it was put to the vote whether they should surrender or not, and the majority carried the question in the affirmative, on the side of humanity and reason. In vain the fanatic Pole, the artilleryman, and the engineer, tried to persuade the Governor and the majority to persist in the madness of continuing a purely passive resistance, for active opposition{411} was out of their power. "We can hold out for a week," said they.
"What then?" asked the Governor. "You have not been able to fire a shot for three-quarters of an hour. Are you likely to be in a better state two hours hence, and, above all, where are the men to live in the meantime?" Such arguments, enforced by tremendous broadsides and by the knocks of cannon-balls against every wall of the fort, prevailed. The second in command, the artillery officer, and the engineer, finding themselves deserted by officers and men, abandoned their suicidal determinations, and agreed to surrender. The white flag was hoisted, much to the satisfaction of every humane sailor in the Allied fleet, who could feel no pleasure in destroying a brave enemy, and much more to the gratification of those who were allowed to desist from a demonstration of hopeless courage.