On Friday morning both sea and wind became more moderate, and for many hours we slept the sound sleep of the tired. In the afternoon we bethought ourselves of our unfortunate menagerie, and went to see how the poor creatures had fared during the storm. The unlucky geese had been the greatest sufferers. Little they thought when they left the peaceful farmyard at Karani of what was in store for them. The water had been so constantly over the fore part of the vessel, and the cold had been so great, that the men had good-naturedly taken the poor things to the forecastle. One luckless goose, however, either from fright or from having imprudently committed a slight excess in drinking half a bottle of turpentine, had been seized with fits, and remained in an alarming state for many hours. We were much grieved, thinking her last moment had come, for she was lying on her back, feebly kicking in a deplorable fashion, when, with a supreme effort, she dragged herself into the coal-hole, and convulsively began to swallow some bits of coal. We left in sadness, thinking this could only be the last expiring struggle; but an hour later we received a bulletin to say the patient was not only alive, but better, and in the evening she was pronounced convalescent, her remedy having proved most effectual. However, between the fits and the coals, our friend presents a lamentable spectacle: the fits have caused her wings to twist inside out, and the coals have given her such a sooty tinge, that not a trace remains of her once beautiful snowy plumage. We hear that many a candle has been vowed by the men to their favourite shrines. They have behaved admirably; but few of them had ever been in the Black Sea, and none had seen a storm there before. Even the imperturbable Charlie says he has never known an "uglier" gale. The crew's admiration of the behaviour of the Claymore is quite unbounded; they cannot praise her enough. She has certainly weathered the storm gallantly, and has come gloriously out of the combat, without having sustained any injury to speak of--only a rope or two gone and a block broken. On Saturday morning we were safely anchored off the Water Gate in Sevastopol harbour, and remained there a few days to recruit our somewhat exhausted strength. Each day brought sad accounts of the numerous wrecks that had taken place in this storm, the most severe that has been known for years. Amongst other catastrophes, it gave us a great shock to hear of the total loss of the Persian emigrant steamer that we had seen at Sinope. She went down very suddenly early on Thursday morning. A mate and three seamen clung to a spar, were picked up, and brought to Kamiesch. Every other soul on board perished. The men say the vessel was leaky and overladen. It was frightful to think that all those poor creatures we had seen only a few days ago had met with so terrible an end. The papers are full of the disasters that have taken place.