The south side fell that day. We watched the huge explosions of the forts on that side. It was indeed a grand sight,--the enormous columns of smoke, dust, and _débris_ flying majestically into the air in great shoots, and dense clouds of it hanging thickly at the base. On the second day this continued. We could also plainly see streams of soldiers crossing the bridge of boats over the harbour to the north side, where Fort Constantine still stood out unscathed. I think many of the Russian ships-of-war were sunk in the harbour at that juncture. Early in October we were ordered to embark the 63rd Regiment of the Line; and, together with a goodly company of other ships with troops on board, we left for Odessa, where, it seems, we made a reconnaissance only, our real object being Kimburn, a fortified spit near the entrance of the Sea of Azov. Arriving off Kimburn, we transferred our freight of soldiers to the _Vulcan_, transport ship, and prepared to attack the fortifications. I find myself writing home by next mail as follows:-- We arrived at this place, Kimburn, about 3 P.M., and anchored about two and a half miles off the forts in very shallow water. Nothing happened that afternoon, and we commenced preparing for action for the following day, being sure we should attack, but it was postponed. They say it was all Admiral Bruat’s fault (French Admiral), for Lyons cannot do anything without his permission, as he is much the senior. We then thought our turn would come the next day. But it did not, and we found it was all old Bruat’s fault, for he will have nothing to do with it. Admiral Lyons was very much put out about this, for depend upon it, that if he had been alone I really believe he would have gone in the day we arrived; but he was determined to do something, so he ordered all the mortar-boats to commence shelling the place, which consisted of nine forts and houses. The following day our Admiral made the signal to old Bruat:--“This is a fine day to attack.” Answer was “Agreeable.” So at 12 o’clock we got under weigh and steamed in, firing our long pivot gun, a solid 68-pounder, occasionally, but not without receiving some shots in return, and some not pleasant at all. Whish! whish! on they came by the dozen. When about 600 yards from the centre battery we anchored and put a spring in our cable, so as to keep our broadside well on to the forts. All this was only the work of a few minutes, when we let drive from our whole 46 guns as hard as we could, firing occasionally with moorsom shell as well as round shot--such a row, and such dense smoke as was never seen or heard. I was constantly sent down with messages to direct the firing, but it was nigh impossible to make myself heard to the officers of the quarters, and the smoke between decks was so dense I could see absolutely nothing, and felt suffocated into the bargain. I must say I was awfully anxious to