Now it was confidently asserted that the fleets had run in and engaged the sea-ward forts; that Fort Constantine was dismantled, and that the Royal Albert, having forced the barrier of sunken ships, had penetrated into the great harbour, and was attacking the town from the sea: anon the Bastion du Mat was taken, or the Mamelon destroyed: while the general assault was universally declared to be imminent. The old feeling of hope, dormant through so long a period of depression, doubt, and inaction, revived with a magical suddenness; the most impracticable sceptics of the evening were transformed into the most fervent prophets of the morrow; and no story which had success for its theme appeared too extravagant for the willing credulity of the anxious listeners. But amidst this enthusiastic throng of converts and believers there were others who, appreciating at their true value the current camp " shaves," and trained by careful reflection of the past to a calmer judgment of the future, drew hope from sources less fallible if more remote — who noted with satisfaction the 'vantage ground obtained by the Allies even on the very first day over the palpably weakened resistance opposed by the enemy, and who watched with rational joy the slow compression of a grasp destined, at a time distant indeed but secure, to prove fatal to the foe.
The following eloquent description of the opening of the Allies' fire is borrowed from Mr. Wood's work: * —
" A heavy mist hung over the sea, and partly over Sebastopol, while both were obscured, every now and then, by the clouds of rain which were driven before the wind. The north side was almost completely invisible, though the mouth of the harbour was clear, and a heavy sea running in broke in a line of wild breakers over the sunken ships. Beyond one or two guard-ships, our fleet was not visible in its accustomed place. Where it had moved to I cannot say; but, as far as I could judge in the very misty state of the weather, the vessels had left their old moorings.
* Vol. ii. pp. 335, 340. 2 E
.
" In Sebastopol itself everything was quiet and clean as usual. The huge black shears in the dockyard stood out conspicuous, as did also the topmasts of a two-decker anchored just under them. Where the head of the harbour could be seen, two or three large boats could be observed crossing it near the land, but no other signs of activity were visible either on the water or in the town. The latter indeed appeared almost deserted; all around its handsome barracks, its rows of stately houses, its spacious churches, with their green roofs and handsome cupolas, not a soul was visible.
" It was five o'clock; none of the clocks in Sebastopol could be heard to strike, as the wind was very strong and blowing up the harbour and across the town. Each moment the weather became thicker and more wet, so that in a few minutes hardly any of the town was visible. The grim line of batteries however remained pretty well in view, though they also were as quiet as inside the walls. In the MalakoiF a few soldiers could occasionally be distinguished in the embrasures, and a small party crossed between it and the Mamelon, but this was all. On the left of the Redan was some black mass, but whether soldiers or not it was impossible to say. It was now past five, and, though the atmosphere was by no means clear, it was at least as clear, if not clearer, than it seemed likely to be at a later hour. Yet there were no signs in our batteries. The men were in them as usual; perhaps they displayed a little more bustle, but nothing to induce one to lelieve that they were preparing for a long and fierce encounter with a foe they were determined to vanquish, but whose defences, both in earthworks and guns, far surpassed theirs both in solidity and number.