I was anchored with my flag-ship, a fine thirteen knot ironclad, and a couple of other vessels, at a port some few miles to the north of Varna, taking in coals, when the look-out man reported that he saw on the horizon a column of smoke. I knew that this was not a Russian cruiser, because these vessels always burnt smokeless coal. I guessed, however, what it was, namely, that one of the Russian cruisers was burning an unfortunate coasting vessel. On looking more closely from the mast-head of the flag-ship, I saw the masts and two funnels of a steamer very near to the burning ship. The cruiser was somewhat in shore of the place where I was lying. He seems to have made my squadron out about the same time I had seen him, and at once made tracks, as the Americans say, to get out to sea. In doing so he had to near us considerably, so much so that before steam was ready in the flag-ship I could pretty well discern what the enemy was. Some persons may be surprised to hear that the marauding vessel was no less a craft than the magnificent yacht of the Emperor of All the Russias, called the 'Livadia,' which had condescended to the somewhat undignified work of capturing small Turkish coasting craft. Who can fancy the 'Victoria and Albert' being sent to sea, during a war between England and France, to capture and destroy small coasting craft on the French shores! However, there was the fact; it was the 'Livadia,' and no mistake. And now commenced one of the most interesting chases I have ever seen. On our starting the yacht was about four miles ahead of us, steering a course that would take her straight to Sebastopol. She had got through all the necessary dangerous manœuvres of crossing our bows, from her having been inshore of us, before we moved. The weather was lovely, not a ripple on the water, dead calm.