The greater part of Sunday we were steaming along in calm water, within
sight of the coast of Ireland, and extensive preparations were being made
for going ashore - some people of sanguine dispositions had even decided
what they would order for dinner at the Adelphi. Morning service was
very fully attended, and it was interesting to hear the voices of people
of so many different creeds and countries joining in that divinely-taught
prayer which proclaims the universal brotherhood of the human race,
knowing that in a few hours those who then met in adoration would be
separated, to meet no more till summoned by the sound of the last trumpet.
Those who expected to spend Sunday night on shore were disappointed. A
gale came suddenly on us about four o'clock, sails were hastily taken in,
orders were hurriedly given and executed, and the stewards were in
despair, when a heavy lurch of the ship threw most of the things off the
table before dinner, mingling cutlery, pickles, and broken glass and
china, in one chaotic heap on the floor. As darkness came on, the gale
rose higher, the moon was obscured, the rack in heavy masses was driving
across the stormy sky, and scuds of sleet and spray made the few venturous
persons on deck cower under the nearest shelter to cogitate the lines -
"Nights like these,
When the rough winds wake western seas,
Brook not of glee."
I might dwell upon the fury of that night - upon the awful blasts which
seemed about to sweep the seas of every human work - upon our unanswered
signals - upon the length of time while we were
"Drifting, drifting, drifting,
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main" -
upon the difficulty of getting the pilot on board - and the heavy seas
through which our storm-tossed bark entered the calmer waters of the
Mersey: but I must hasten on.
Night after night had the French and English passengers joined in drinking
with enthusiasm the toast "La prise de Sebastopol" - night after night
had the national pride of the representatives of the allied nations
increased, till we almost thought in our ignorant arrogance that at the
first thunder of our guns the defences of Sebastopol would fall, as did
those of Jericho at the sound of the trumpets of Joshua. Consequently,
when the pilot came on board with the newspaper, most of the gentlemen
crowded to the gangway, prepared to give three cheers for the fall of
Sebastopol!
The pilot brought the news of victory - but it was of the barren victory of
Inkermann. A gloom fell over the souls of many, as they read of our
serried ranks mown down by the Russian fire, of heroic valour and heroic
death.
