The watercourse mentioned by Dr. Koch is the canal to which reference has more than once been made in these pages, and which was so important a feature of the ground in the Battle of the Tchernaya. It draws its supply of water from that river, which at Tchergoun, where the canal commences, is 62 feet above the level of the great harbour, and follows the left bank of the Tchernaya as far as Inkermann, where it crosses the foot of the quarry ravine on a handsome aqueduct supported on eight arches and about 200 feet in length. It then pierces the cliff at Inkermann by a tunnel 900 feet long cut out of the limestone rock, and then keeps the shore of the great harbour as far as the Karabelnaia, passing the Careening Creek on an aqueduct of stone, similar to the one at Inkermann. A third aqueduct conveys the water across a hollow near this part of the town: and it then enters the Docks, which are 30 feet above the level of the bay. The fall of the canal, in the 12 miles which it traverses in its course, is thus 32 feet, or about 1 in 2000.
It was this watercourse, and not, as was stated at the time, the supply of water to the town, which was cut off by the Allies, when they first sat down before the South Side.
The Docks were situated at the upper end of a short creek on the eastern side of the inner harbour, in which the " central ravine" terminates. These marvels of human ingenuity, perseverance, and adaptation, achieved by eleven years of incessant labour and by the most lavish expenditure of treasure, are now a heap of shattered and shapeless ruins. When their fate was decided after the capture of the place, the French engineers charged themselves with the destruction of the portion nearest to the sea, while the 2 Q
.
English undertook a similar task in reference to the inner half: but so gigantic was the scale on which these works were constructed that the work of their demolition was only accomplished after weeks of the most laborious preparation. Had these constructions been destined for the assistance and development of commerce and the arts of peace, such a result, even if demanded by the stern necessities of war, could never have been contemplated by the intelligent communities of the West without a pang of regret, but the perfidious policy which applied all the resources of civilisation to a work exclusively intended to subserve an aggressive and unscrupulous barbarism, sanctioned by anticipation the unmingled triumph which hails its defeat.
The view here given was unattainable until after the fall of Sebastopol, as no part of the Docks was visible from the French or English lines, with the exception of a tall black mast used as a crane for putting heavy articles on board ship. On the right, running northwards, is a long range of buildings, which were used as hospitals; and it was here that the Russian wounded, who had been abandoned on the retreat, were found, after days and nights of untended suffering, in a state and amidst circumstances Avhose horroi's fortunately transcend the powers of description.
At the extremity of these buildings is a crumbling mound of earth — all that remains to mark the spot on which Fort Paul, which was blown up by the Russians in their flight, once stood.
On the opposite point of the inner bay is Fort Nicholas, which for some reason or other escaped at this time a fate intended to have been universal: only to be destroyed at a later period by the conquerors, whose plans the Russians were unconsciously anticipating — by pursuing in their evacuation of Sebastopol the traditional policy of the empire, inaugurated at Moscow in the beginning of the century.
INTERIOR OF THE MALAKOFF, WITH THE REMAINS OF THE ROUND TOWER.
It is the night after the capture of the Malakoff, and the French are securely established in the work. The furious excitement of the strife is over; the thrilling shout of the wild Zouave and the ferocious yell of the dogged Muscovite are alike silenced; the rushing tide of battle has receded, and the noise of its angry waves is hushed upon the shore. But has it left no traces of its devastating wrath? Alas, and alas! Thickly on the fatal strand lie those who erewhile with strong right arm and manful breast battled amidst the raging waters, and strained for the beach, only to reach it maimed and bleeding, or be dashed upon it lifeless corpses.
Vainly for those whose warfare is thus accomplished, the flag round which they rallied, and beneath whose folds they fell, may float o'er shattered traverse, and dismantled gun; vainly the lurid sky and reeking smokedrift from the burning city may mai-k the desperate resolution of the vanquished and bafiied foe; their last fight is over, never to be renewed; their last victory won, never to be disputed.