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human work—upon our unanswered signals—upon the length of time while we were
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. The saloon was crowded with eager auditors as the bloody tidings were made audible above the roar of winds and waters. I could scarcely realise the gloomy fact that many of those whom I had seen sail forth in hope and pride only ten months before were now sleeping under the cold clay of the Crimea. Three cheers for the victors of Inkermann, and three for our allies, were then heartily given, though many doubted whether the heroic and suc-