H. M. S. Ulysses, Nov. 15.
The long-expected day is at length arrived: the signal of departure
being given, all the ships of the Leeward Island division weighed anchor
this morning, and put to sea under a most favorable breeze. The Ulysses
being left to wait the sailing of the convoy for Cork, we remained
spectators, and had every opportunity of enjoying the splendid and
animating scene. The day was fine, and the wind steady. On passing
round, or, to use the sailors’ term, doubling the point of the Isle of
Wight, all the ships appeared to fall into regular succession, forming a
line of seemingly endless extent, each elevating her sails, into view,
over the territory of the island, as if they were contending which
should be longest seen.
It was a pleasing spectacle to every beholder, and those who felt as
Englishmen ought, derived, from it, sensations peculiarly grateful. To
witness such a fleet steering from our little island, into the broad
ocean, to fight our battles in a far distant country, conveyed ideas of
greatness and power, which were calculated to raise a just ambition in
every British bosom. The ships of war and transports exceeded two
hundred sail. The immense ship, the Commerce de Marseilles, captured at
Toulon, is at the head of the convoy, with the admiral, the commander in
chief of the army, and nearly a thousand troops on board. It is,
currently, reported here that the whole of these, together with the Cork
division, are to rendezvous at Barbadoes, and, making that the grand
depôt, proceed, from thence, to the attack of various colonies.
For a long time past this vast armament has been expected in the West
Indies, and during many tedious weeks has England, almost daily, looked
for its departure; but to prepare, and set afloat such a fleet, and such
an army, is an undertaking far more difficult than those superficial
observers, who are ignorant of the service, are willing to imagine. If
it meet with fair winds, and proceed without disaster, or unforeseen
delay, it may yet arrive at a good season, and in time, perhaps, to
effect all its intended operations.
We were, yesterday, regaled with the loud treat of hearing the ship’s
cannon fired, whilst we were on board. Every thing was cleared away, as
if preparing for action: all the doors and windows were set open, and
every precaution used, to prevent injury or accident. We remained in the
ward-room during the time of firing the guns in that part of the ship,
and endeavoured to be strictly attentive to the effect. It was not
unlike a violent stroke of electricity: and, for a moment, we felt
stunned with the shock. The jarring concussion conveyed the sensation of
the whole ship having shivered asunder, or suddenly burst into atoms;
and it seemed a subject of surprize that the ears of the sailors should,
ever, become capable of supporting the successive and violent explosions
of a hostile engagement. Notwithstanding the precaution of letting down
the windows, those of the quarter gallery were shattered to pieces.
As we are to wait for other ships, we may now find an opportunity of
adding to the scanty stock of provisions, which we procured amidst the
general scramble of embarkation: we hope, also, that our vessel will
have time to take in a fresh supply of water; for we have, hitherto,
suffered, very severely, from not having any on board but what has been
putrid and offensive; and coming to this directly from the shore, has
rendered it far worse than if we had been, gradually, compelled to
submit to it, after being a long time at sea. To myself, in particular,
this is a weighty misfortune, as I have not the common resource of
flying to wine and beer, as a relief. We have taken to our aid, both
purifiers and filtering stones; and, we are further assured of having
our present sufferings compensated upon the passage; for the Thames
water, now so offensive, will soon restore itself, and, becoming settled
and depurated, will be clear and sweet as we can desire.
With regard to our eating, likewise, ’tis well we are not of the
Epicurean school. The many disagreeable smells, and the heaving motion
of the ship, have much impaired our appetites; and, if we were
over-dainty, we must, literally, starve; for our governor of the galley
happens to be fit only to cook for the stomachs of Neptune’s hardiest
sons.
As soon as the other vessels shall be ready, the Ulysses, we are told,
is to proceed with them to Cowes harbour, to join the St. Domingo
division. It is probable, therefore, that my next letter may be
addressed to you from Ireland.