October 10. The fog continues, and is worthy of the best efforts of the London atmosphere in November. It is not so rich in colour, so yellow, or so choky, but it is equally thick and clammy. It is white in colour, and sometimes the sun stamps a moonlike imitation of his orb upon it, and in favourable moments one can see a faint indication of his existence above. Now and then you catch a dark outline of a vessel looming through the mist; you strain your eyes to make out your neighbour, but you might as well try to pick out the details of Turner's blubber boilers or of his phantom ships, and as you look, the vision has disappeared. The water flows by -with a heavy oily roU, and the only noise to be heard is the plash of the lazy waves against the paddlewheels, the bumping of the rudder, and the creak of an odd timber, as he rubs against his fellows.
But hark! There is a gun! A dull bm-st of sound, followed by reverberations like the muttering of distant thunder, which are caused by the echoes of the report against the sides of the ships, denotes that the Admiral wishes to indicate his position to some straggler, who has not yet joined the fleet. Solemnly, through the silence which intervenes between these signals, comes the full rich boom of the church bells from Odessa. Possibly Papa Nicholas or Papa Daniel is even now persuading a nervous and fashionable congregation that the fog which hides their enemy from view is the result of his own intercession with Saint or Martyr, and these bells, which chime so sweetly, may be using their metal tongues to call down disaster on our heads, and to invoke the blessing of Heaven on the soldiers of the Czar.
As the day advances the fog darkens, deepens, thickens. The rolling of drmas— the beat of paddle-wheels as a solitary steamer changes her berth with cantion — the striking of the bells of the ships, and the reports of guns at long intervals, are the only evidenc that a great fleet is lying all around us. All communication between the ships ceases, for no one can tell whei-e his next neighbour is; in fact, a philosopher would find this a charming place just now for study and reflection. But those who are accustomed to more active existence find the time very heavy on their hands, and the excitement of seeing the men " knock about the gims," of hearing them and the boys say their gunnery catechism, " No. 1," — " Takes out tompions, bear out the port, worms 'em, sponges, rams 'ome, runs out, and trains," — of Avatching the barometer, of seeing the fowls fed, and of inspecting the various dogs, pigs, and birds which constitute the pets of the crew, and the more substantial enjojanents of the ofScers, palls after a time, and one — even ofl' Odessa, and cheek by jowl with the enemy — is fairly obliged to yawn by General Ennui.
What is happening around us no one can see or say, and there is a iiorrible gloomy misanthropical curiosity seizing upon every one to ascertain the longest time a Black Sea fog was ever known to last, which elicits most startling declarations from morose old tars, that " If it's a riglar out-and-out 'un, with a light breeze from the sutherd and vesterd, it may last ibr a matter of a fortnight — ay, that it may." Sundry dismal experiences are not wanting to enforce the probability of such a lively event taking place again. " And then the bad weather will set in; and, with sogers aboord, I'd like to know what we can do?" The barometer now indicates 29° 42'; the wind, which is very faint and light, is from the S.S.W.; and, as the success or failure of the expedition entirely depends on the weather, the anxiety of all oflScers who have the interest and reputation of the navy at heart, is seriously aroused by our atmospherical prospects. 3-30 P.M.
The fog is clearing away, and one after another the ships of the fleet appear in sight, as if coming out in a dissolving view. Odessa still looks very hazy. The Admiral avails himself of the pleasing change in the weather to make signal for a lieutenant from each ship to repair on board the " Royal Albert." The boats are lowered, and the aspect of the scene is now very different from what it was an hour aaro. The change is as great as if one had coine out of a dark room into the leading thoroughfare of a hirge and busy city. The cutters and gigs glide about in all directions, visits are paid from ship to ship, and some boats sweep in to have a nearer look at the shore, which is indeed very tempting at this distance.