All the forces except those which were necessary to keep the peace
of the capital were ordered to move to the west. Salisbury was appointed
as the place of rendezvous: but, as it was thought possible that
Portsmouth might be the first point of attack, three battalions of
guards and a strong body of cavalry set out for that fortress. In a few
hours it was known that Portsmouth was safe; and these troops received
orders to change their route and to hasten to Salisbury. [505]

When Sunday the fourth of November dawned, the cliffs of the Isle
of Wight were full in view of the Dutch armament. That day was the
anniversary both of William's birth and of his marriage. Sail was
slackened during part of the morning; and divine service was performed
on board of the ships. In the afternoon and through the night the fleet
held on its course. Torbay was the place where the Prince intended to
land. But the morning of Monday the fifth of November was hazy. The
pilot of the Brill could not discern the sea marks, and carried the
fleet too far to the west. The danger was great. To return in the face
of the wind was impossible. Plymouth was the next port. But at Plymouth
a garrison had been posted under the command of Lord Bath. The landing
might be opposed; and a check might produce serious consequences. There
could be little doubt, moreover, that by this time the royal fleet had
got out of the Thames and was hastening full sail down the Channel.
Russell saw the whole extent of the peril, and exclaimed to Burnet,
"You may go to prayers, Doctor. All is over." At that moment the wind
changed: a soft breeze sprang up from the south: the mist dispersed; the
sun shone forth and, under the mild light of an autumnal noon, the fleet
turned back, passed round the lofty cape of Berry Head, and rode safe in
the harbour of Torbay. [506]

Since William looked on that harbour its aspect has greatly changed. The
amphitheatre which surrounds the spacious basin now exhibits everywhere
the signs of prosperity and civilisation. At the northeastern extremity
has sprung up a great watering place, to which strangers are attracted
from the most remote parts of our island by the Italian softness of the
air; for in that climate the myrtle flourishes unsheltered; and even the
winter is milder than the Northumbrian April. The inhabitants are about
ten thousand in number. The newly built churches and chapels, the baths
and libraries, the hotels and public gardens,