The Rip Van Winkle, the Panola, the Progress, and several others, shared the disaster of the Prince, and in most cases were lost with all hands on board.
The master of the Avon, a large West-Indian steamer, finding it impossible longer to contend with the fury of the wind and of the sea, adopted a daring and desperate resolution, which was crowned with a success almost providential. Reversing the position of the ship, he determined to make for the narrow entrance of the harbour, which was at times only dimly visible through the fog, and accordingly shaped the Avon's course in that direction, with her engines working at the fuU power of the steam. A fortunate puff of wind facilitated the enterprise, and enabled her to steer clear of the rocks into the confined opening of the port. Her crew were subsequently engaged, with those of the other vessels enjoying the same shelter, in aiding the escape of the straggling survivors from the wrecks outside, who were hauled
8EBA8TOPOL FROM THE REAR OF THE ENGLISH BATTERIES. 63
up by ropes from their perilous position at the foot of the precipices where thej had found a precarious respite from the terrors of the storm.
In the foreground of the drawing which has given rise to this imperfect sketch, the Prince and the Rip Van Winkle are described in the last moments of tlieir fruitless struggle with the pitiless elements. A little while, and the hoarse notes of unavailing command, the bitter cry for help where no help is, the half-uttered yet fervent prayer, and the loud despairing shrieks of hundreds as they meet their doom, will be alike for ever hushed, and the jarring discords of the ocean and the skies echoed only, at ever decreasing intervals, by
" the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony."
Her Majesty's steam frigates Eetribution, Niger, and Vesuvius, the transport ship Melbourne, the Progress, and other vessels which with varying fortunes shared the perils of this awful day, are dimly and with difficulty discerned looming through mist and darkness. In the centre, the Avon is seen steaming into the hardly-won entrance of the port, and the background is formed by the outline of the rugged and abrupt cliffs which continue the coast line into the farthest distance, till their sombre forms blend at last with the angry billows, or the wild and dreary sky above them.
SEBASTOPOL FROM THE REAR OF THE ENGLISH BATTERIES.
This drawing, like all those which depict Sebastopol as it was, derives a new and deeper interest from the glorious success which has so recently crowned the patient perseverance and the long-protracted efforts of the Allied Armies. Since the period when the view was taken, sad havoc has been made by war's unmannerly hand among the proud palaces and the stately edifices of the " white -walled city by the sea;" and, though the attempt of its late masters to complete the ruin and desolation of a place they were compelled to abandon to their foes may have partially failed, few can doubt that for long, if not for ever, its ancient " glory has departed."
The offensive works of the English on both attacks, which form the principal subjects of the picture before us, have been constantly in course of modification and change by the progress of the siege, and its termination will probably restore to the ploughshare and the harrow the ground so long usurped by trenches and batteries. But the latest posterity of Englishmen will continue to seek with avidity and to study with attention all that tends to elucidate the history of one of the most remarkable and important military operations on record. They will trace with eager curiosity and with an honest pride the slow but certain process by which, in spite of the severest privations, and of the most determined resistance, their heroic forefathers drove an obstinate foe into his furthest entrenchments, and, within one short year of their landing in his territory, finally expelled him from a stronghold he had fondly deemed impregnable.