After the din which had raged so fiercely for the previous four days, and the dropping fire which had gone on for a year, the silence which reigned was strange and almost oppressive.  There was nothing to be done.  No turn in the trenches or batteries to be served, nothing to do but to rest and to prepare for the next winter, which was now almost upon them.

A week after the fall of Sebastopol the anniversary of the battle of Alma was celebrated.  What great events had taken place since that time!

None of those who had rested that night on the vine-clad hill they had won, dreamed of what was before them, or that they were soon to take part in the greatest siege which the world has ever known.  Small indeed was the proportion of those who had fought at the Alma now present with the army at Sebastopol.  The fight of Inkerman, the mighty wear and tear in the trenches, the deadly repulses at the Redan, and above all, the hardships of that terrible winter, had swept away the noble armies which had landed in the Crimea, and scarcely one in ten of those who heard the first gun in the Alma was present at the fall of Sebastopol.

The naval camp was now broken up, the sailors returned on board ship, and the army prepared to go into winter quarters, that is to say, to dig deep holes under their tents, to erect sheltering walls, and in some instances to dig complete subterranean rooms.

A week after the assault Harry Archer was carried down to Balaklava and put on board ship.  The surgeons had in vain endeavored to extract the bullet, and were unable to give any cheering reply to Jack’s anxious inquiries.

His brother might live; but they owned that his chances were slight.  It was a question of general health and constitution.  If mortification did not set in the wound might heal, and he might recover and carry the bullet about with him all his life.  Of course he had youth and health on his side, and Jack must hope for the best.  The report was not reassuring, but they could say no more.

Weeks passed on, and the two armies lay watching each other from the heights they occupied.  At last it was determined to utilize the magnificent fleet which had hitherto done so little.  Accordingly an expedition was prepared, whose object was to destroy the forts at Kinburn and occupy that place, and so further reduce the sources from which the Russians drew their food.

The sight was an imposing one, as the allied squadrons in two long lines steamed north past the harbor of Sebastopol.  The British contingent consisted of six line-of-battle ships, seventeen steam frigates and sloops, ten gun-boats, six mortar vessels, and nine transports.

On board the men-of-war were 8340 infantry, and 1350 marines.  The transports carried the Royal Artillery, the medical commissariat and transport corps, stores of all kinds, and the reserve of ammunition.  The French fleet was nearly equal in number to our own.