aving of
handkerchiefs. The king put an end to this embarrassing sympathy. He
rode forward, and, taking his station in the centre, gave the word to
"march." He was answered by one gallant "huzza" from the line, repeated
by the thousands and tens of thousands who now moved before and around
us. Our bands struck up, and, with the monarch and his sons at our head,
and the queen and princesses following in their equipages, we marched
through streets, crowded to the roof, echoing with acclamations, and
wishing us all good fortune as we passed along, until we left the mighty
metropolis behind. Even then, it was only to meet the new multitude of
the country. The road to Greenwich, where we were to embark, exhibited a
population as countless, enthusiastic, and full of good wishes as those
with whom we had just parted. The king still rode in our front; flags,
banners, and every kind of joyous testimonial met our eyes; and if ever
there was a triumph before the victory, it was in that honest and
generous display of the true heart of England.
The embarkation took place within a few hours; and on that night we
slept on the element which Britain has so long made her field of battle.
The weather was serene, and we fully enjoyed the freshness of the air,
and the brightness of the view, as we rounded the coast. At the mouth of
the Thames, we had met a strong squadron of the line of battle,
appointed for our convoy, and bringing numerous transports with troops.
Our fleet had now become extensive, and as we moved out from the land,
the sight became continually more animated and exciting. The despatch of
the look-out frigates, the constant change of signals, the firing of
guns to regulate the sailing of the great convoy, the manoeuvres of
those floating castles, the seventy-fours and three-deckers, the harmony
of their bands as they passed us, rushing along under a cloud of
canvass, with the hum of the thousands on board--all formed one of the
most heart-stirring combinations that could exist to the eye, or even to
the heart of a human being.
I stood gazing on the poop of our transport the entire day; and even
when twilight came, there was but a change of interest and beauty. We
moved on, a moving multitude--a fragment of a mighty nation--almost a
nation ourselves, on the face of the deep. Within the horizon which now
lay beneath my glance, smooth as glass, and shining in the richness of
the departing day, what materials of living powe
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