The Sun.
London, England, 1855-09-27 00:00:00

THE SUN. LONDON, THURSDAY EVE

and the surface is deeply honeycombed by the explosions
of the bombs at every square yard. Tile road was
crowded with Frenchmen, returning with paltry plunder
from Sebastopol, and with files of Russian prisoner',
many of them wounded, and all dejected, with the excep-
tion of a fine little boy, in a Cossack's cap and a tiny
uniform greatcoat, who seemed rather pleased with his
kind captors. There was also one stout Russian soldier,
who had evidently been indulging in the popularly cre-
dited sources of Dutch courage, and who danced ail the
way into the camp with a Zouave and an IndigZie.
There were ghastly sights on the way, too,—Russians
who had died, or were dying as they lay, brought so
far towards the hospitals from the fatal Malakhoff.
Passing through a maze of trenches, of gabionnades,
and of zigzags arid parallels, by which the French had
worked their sure and deadly way close to the heart of
the Russian defence, and treading gently anion, the
heaps of dead, where the ground bears full tokens of' the
bloody fray, we come at last to the head of the French
sap. It is barely ten yards from that to the base of the
huge sloping mound of earth which rises full 20 feet in
height above the level, and shows in every direction the
grinning muzzles of its gulls. The tricolour waves
placidly from its highest point, and already the French
are busy constructing a semaphore on the top. Step
briskly out of the sap—avoid those poor mangled braves
who are lying all round, and come on. There is a deep
ditch at your feet, some 20 or 22 feet deep, and 10 feet
broad. See, here is the place where the. French crossed
—here is their bridge of planks, and here they swarmed
in upon the unsuspecting defenders of the Malakhoff.
They bad not 10 yards to go. We had 200, and were
then out of breath. Were not planks better than scaling
ladders.? See how easily the French crossed. You ob-
serve on your right hand,, as you issue from the bead of
the French trench, a line of gabions on the ground
running up to this bridge. That is a flying sap, which
the French made the instant they got out of the trench
into the Malakhoff, so that they were enabled to pour a
continuous stream of men into the works, with com-
parative safety from the flank fire of the enemy. In the
same way they at once dug a trench across the work in-
side, to see if there were any galvanic wires to fire
mines. Mount the parapet and descend—of what
amazing thickness are these embrezures ? From the level
of the ground inside to the top of the parapet cannot be
less than 18 feet. There are eight rows of gabiens piled
one above the other, And as each row recedes towards
the top it leaves in the ledge below an excellent banquette
for the defenders. Inside the sight is too terrible to dwell
upon. The French are carrying away their own and the
Russian wounded, and there are four distinct piles of dead
formed to clear the way. The ground is marked by pools of
blood, and the smell is already noisome ; swarms of flies
settle on dead and dying ; broken muskets, torn clothes,
caps, shakos, swords, bayonets, bags of bread, canteens,
and havresacks are lying in indescribable wreck all over
the place, mingled with heaps of shot, of grape, bits of
shell, cartridges, case and canister, loose powder, official
papere,.and cooking tins. The traverses are so high
and deep that it is impossible almost to get a view of the
whole of the Malakhoff from any one spot, and there is
a high mound of earth in the middle et the work, either
intended as a kind of shell proof, or the remains of the
old White Tower. The guns, which to the number of
60 were found in the work, are all ships' guns, and
mounted on ships' carriages, and worked in the same
way as ships' guns. There are a few old-fashioned,
oddly-shaped mortars. Look around the work, and you
will see that the strength of the Russian was his weak-
ness-e-he fell into his own bomb-proofs. In the parapet
of the work may be observed several entrances—very
narrow outside, but descending and enlarging down-
wards, and opening into rooms some four or five feet
high and eight or ten square. These are only lighted
from the outside by day, and must have been pitch dark
at night, unless the men were allowed lanterns. Here
the garrison retired when exposed to a heavy bombard-
ment. The odour of these narrow chambers is villanous,
and the air reeks with blood and abominations unutter-
able. There are several of these places, and they might
hid defiance to the heaviest mortars in the world ' • over
the roof is a layer of ships' masts, cut into junks and
deposited carefully ; then there is over them a solid layer
of earth, and above that a layer of gabions, and above
that a pile of earth again. In one of these dungeons,
which is excavated in solid rock,and was probably under-
neath the old White Tower, the officer commanding
seems to have lived. It must have been a,dreary residence.
The floor and the entrance were littered a foot deep with
reports, returns, and perhaps despatches assuring the
Czar that the place had sustained no damage. The
garrison were in these narrow chambers enjoying their
siesta, which they invariably take at 12 o'clock, when
the French burst in on them like a torrent, and, as it
were, drowned them in their holes. The Malakhoff is
a closed work ; it is only open at the rear to the town,
and the French having once got in threw open a passage
to their own rear, and closed up the front and the lateral
communications with the curtains leading to the Great
Redan and Little Redan. Thus they were ena,bledto pour in
their supports, in order and without loss, in a continued
stream, and to resist the efforts of the Russians, which
were desperate and repeated, to retake the place. They
brought up their field guns at once, and swept the Rus-
sian reserves and supports, while Strange's battery from
the Quarries carried death through their ranks in every
quarter of the ICarabelnaia. With the Malakhoff the
enemy lost Sebastopol. The ditch outside towards the
north was yet full of French and Russians piled over
each other in horrid confusion. On the right, towards
the Little Redan, the ground was literally strewn with
bodies as thick as they could lie, and in the ditch they
were piled over each other. Here the French, victorious
in the Malakhoff, met with a heavy loss, and a series of
severe repulses. The Russians lay inside the work in
heaps like carcasses in a butcher's cart, and the wounds,
the blood—the sight, ex seeded all I had hitherto wit-
nessed. Descending from the Malakhoff we come upon
a suburb of ruined houses open to the sea ; it is filled
with dead, The Russians have crept away into holes
and corners in every house, to die like poisoned rats ;
artillery horses, with their entrails torn open by shot, are
stretched all over the space at the back of the Malakhoff„
marking the place where the Rus-ions moved up their
last column to retake it, under the cover of a heavy field
battery. Every house, the ceurch, some public build-
ings, sentry-boxes, all alike are broken and riddled by
cannon and mortar. Turning to the left, we proceed
by a very tall snow-white wall of great length to the
dockyard gateway. This wall is pierced and broken
through and through with cannon. Inside are the docks,
which, naval men say, are unequalled in the world. The
steamer is blazing merrily in ono of them. Gates and
store sides are splintered and pierced by shot. There
are the stately dockyard buildings on the right, which
used to look so clean and white and spruce. Parts of
them are knocked to atoms, and hang together in such
shreds and patches that it is only wonderful they cohere.
The soft white stone of which they and the walls are
made is readily knocked to pieces by a cannon-shot.
Fort Paul is untouched. There it stands, as if frowning
defiance at its impending fate, right before us, and warn-
ing voices bid all people to retire, and oven the most
benevolent retreat from the hospital, which is in one of
these buildings, where they are tending the miserable
wounded. I visited it next day.