green in the Village of East Zuburg) they would start off to their
“hunt,” as they called it, in parties headed by a petty officer. Then
they would leap the dykes, which their poles enabled them to do, and
dash through those which they could not otherwise cross; they were
like a set of Newfoundland dogs in the marshes, and when they spied
a few riflemen of the French, they ran at them helter-skelter: then
pistol, cutlass, and pike, went to work in downright earnest. The
French soldiers did not at all relish the tars—and no wonder; for the
very appearance of them was terrific, and quite out of the usual order
of things. Each man seemed a sort of Paul Jones—tarred, belted, and
cutlassed as they were. Had we had occasion to storm Flushing, I have
no doubt that they would have carried the breach themselves. The scenes
which their eccentricities every hour presented, were worthy of the
pencil of Hogarth. Among the most humorous of these, were their drills,
musters, and marchings, or as they generally called such proceedings,
“_playing at soldiers_.” All that their officers did, had no effect in
keeping either silence or regularity; those officers, however, were
“part and parcel of the same material as the Jacks themselves, and as
able to go through the pipe-clay regularity of rank and file, as to
deliver a sermon on the immortality of the soul.” But the fact is, they
were not either expected or intended to be _regular_ troops, and their
drills were merely adopted to teach them to keep together in line when
marching from one place to another; so that they might not go about
the country after the manner of a troop of donkeys. These marches and
drills afforded the highest degree of amusement, both to soldiers and
officers; the disproportion in the sizes of the men—the front rank man,
perhaps, four feet one, while the rear rank man, was six feet two;
the giving of the word from the “middy,” always accompanied by a “G——
d——n;” the gibes and jeers of the men themselves. “Heads up, _you_
beggar of Corpolar there,” a little slang-going Jack would cry out
from the rear-rank, well knowing that his size secured him from the
observation of the officer. Then perhaps the man immediately before
him, to show his sense of decorum, would turn round and remark: “I
say, who made you a fugle man, master Billy? can't ye behave like a
sodger afore the commander, eh?” Then from another part of the squad, a
stentorian roar would arise, with “I'll not stand this, if I do, bl——t
me; here's this here bl——y Murphy stickin' a sword into my starn.” Then
perhaps the middy[12] would give the word “_right face_,” in order to
prepare for marching; but some turned right and some left, while others
turned right round and were faced by their opposite rank man. This
confusion in a few minutes, however, would be rectified, and the word
“_march_” given: off they went, some whistling a quick-step, and others
imitating the sound of a drum with his voice, and keeping time with the
whistler, “row dididow, dididow, row dow, dow”—every sort of antic
trick began immediately, particularly treading on each others' heels.
I once saw a fellow suddenly jump out of the line of march, crying
out, “I be d——d if Riley hasn't spikes in his toes, an' I won't march
afore him any longer,” and then coolly fell in at the rear. “Keep the
step,” then was bandied about, with a thousand similar expressions,
slapping each other's hats down upon their eyes, elbowing, jostling,
and joking—away they went to beat the bushes for Frenchmen; and even
when under the fire of both the hidden riflemen and the rampart guns,
their jollity was unabated. One of these odd fellows was hit in the leg
by a rifle-ball which broke the bones, and he fell: it was in a hot
pursuit which he and a few others were engaged in after a couple of the
riflemen, who had ventured a little too far from their position, when,
seeing that he could follow no farther, he took off his tarry hat and
flung it with all his might after them; “there, you beggars, I wish it
was a long eighteen for your sakes.” The poor fellow was carried off by
his comrades, and taken to the hospital, where he died.
Lord Chatham generally visited the lines every alternate day, attended
by his staff and a few general officers, but he seldom remained long
with us, and returned to his quarters at Middleburg. The more detailed
duties were left to Sir Eyre Coote, who was extremely active during
the whole time of the siege. Some amateurs also came occasionally from
Middleburg, and we began in a few days to feel a little more comfort;
for various pedlars ventured amongst us with different commodities,
which greatly ameliorated our situation. The villages of East and West
Zuburg became like a fair, with this exception, that the houses were
deserted by their inhabitants and occupied by military officers. One of
the civilian visitors had a very narrow escape in one of his walks, for
in the midst of his contemplation of a statue in the garden attached
to Sir Eyre Coote's quarters, a cannon-ball struck the marble, and
threw the fragments about him. He soon decamped, and I will venture to
assert, that he kept at a more respectful distance from the scene of
operations ever after. Except an attempt to drown us all by opening
the sluices, which failed, nothing very particular occurred after the
sortie, until the bombardment. This threatened flood alarmed every
body for a short time, but several of the principal inhabitants came
from Middleburg to examine the state of the sluices, &c. and gave it
as their opinion that the utmost extent of the threatened mischief
could amount only to annoyance from the water, as they had it in their
power to counteract its effects by means of their sluices and canals at
Middleburg.
By the 11th, the heavy cannon had been all brought up to the lines,
principally dragged by sailors, and on the 13th (Sunday) at one o'clock
all our batteries were ready to open. Every gun was manned, and the
matches lighted, while a deathlike silence pervaded the air, not a
breath stirred, and the sun was broadly shining, when the signal was
given, and a hundred metal mouths opened upon the devoted town. The
peal was like a thousand thunder claps: it shook every thing around,
and gave to every heart an ecstasy of courage. At the moment the
men felt that they could have conquered thrice their numbers—their
countenances brightened, and every peal seemed to impart an electric
delight to their bosoms. The cannonade continued without an instant's
intermission until 10 o'clock in the evening, when it ceased; but
the mortars continued to throw shells during the whole of the night.
Immediately after the cannonade ceased, the Congreve rockets were
despatched upon their destructive missions. It was the first time
they had been used in hostility; and indeed the manner in which they
were managed, amply proved that practice was much wanted in order to
render these destructive engines effective. Not more than one in six
fell within the walls of the town, and a much less proportion went far
enough to do injury. They usually dropped short in the ditches, and for
the first hour we had no hope that the evil could be remedied; however,
an improvement in their discharges might have been gradually observed.
A more awfully grand effect cannot be imagined than these rockets
produced. They and the mortars continued to play all night without
intermission, and the garrison bravely returned the fire as well as
they could; but the guns on the ramparts at many points were gradually
silenced, and on the whole, the enemy was evidently getting the worst
of the affair. Next morning, Monday 14th, the fleet bore up, and
attacked the town, the walls of which were washed by the sea; they were
mostly line-of-battle ships, and commanded by Sir Richard Strachan. It
was about ten o'clock in the morning when they passed. They were full
in our sight, and a grander effect could scarcely be imagined than the
sight of their operations—sailing with a light breeze slowly up the
broad Scheldt, and nearing the town, these immense moving batteries,
as they passed, poured in tremendous broadsides, which were returned
from the town. At each discharge from the ships, the bricks, tiles, &c.
were seen flying into the air, whereas little or no effect was made
on the ships by the guns from the town. One after the other following
the same track, and doing similar execution, each grand and beautiful
vessel passed by, until the St. Domingo grounded close to the town. In
consequence of this, she was terribly _peppered_ for half an hour—after
that time the tide rose sufficiently to float her off; but she, sooner
than remain idle, amused herself with repeated broadsides; so that,
considering the immense damage done to the town, I am of opinion that
the enemy would have much rather that the accident had not happened.
This attack from the sea did an immensity of damage to the enemy, and
contributed mainly to their conquest; indeed, they were so completely
reduced, by this time, to all appearance, (having but a few guns
capable of service,) that a flag of truce was despatched to them,
in the full expectation that they would capitulate, and thus save
farther injury to the unoffending inhabitants of the town. During the
negotiation, which lasted about two hours, our ears were relieved from
the monotonous thunder of the field, and we hoped no more blood would
be shed in taking the place. But in these hopes we were disappointed,
for the Commandant, General Monet, was determined to hold out to the
last. In consequence of this the whole of the batteries were opened
again upon the devoted town at about sunset, and with redoubled energy,
for our men felt provoked at the enemy's obstinacy, and laid their
hands to the work with renewed spirit and determination. The sailors'
battery, containing six twenty-four-pounders, almost split our ears.
These enthusiastic demidevils fired not as the other batteries
did, but like broadsides from a ship—each discharge was eminently
distinguished by its terrific noise, for the guns were all fired at
once, and absolutely shook the earth at every round. So vehement were
these seamen in their exertions, that they blew _themselves_ up at
last! This was done by a little squat fellow, who served the guns with
ammunition: he placed a cartridge against a lighted match in his hurry;
this exploding, communicated with a large quantity of powder, and the
natural catastrophe followed. About twenty of the brave fellows, among
whom was a young midshipman, were severely burnt and bruised; out
of which number, were I to judge from their appearance as they were
carried past us, I should suppose not more than half a dozen recovered.
They were all jet black, their faces one shapeless mass, and their
clothes and hair burnt to a cinder. In the midst of their suffering the
only thing that seemed to ease them, was swearing at the little sailor,
who was the author of their misfortune; while he, poor creature, in
addition to his wounds and burns, patiently suffered the whole torrent
of his comrades' abuse.
The Congreve-rockets now resumed their place in the dreadful scene,
and, from the preceding night's practice, did infinitely more execution
than before. They, together with the lighted fusees of the shells,
flying through the dark night, appeared to me like the idea I form of
comets and stars in the confusion of the last day, and the thunder
of the numerous batteries heightened the force of the comparison. I
went to the top of the church; the unfortunate town was almost silent!
scarcely a gun flashed from the ramparts, while our newly opened fire
seemed to me like smiting a fallen man. The sublimity of the scene
has been rarely equalled. The clouds, dark and rapid in their windy
course, behind which a gleam of the rising moon was slowly appearing;
the rockets on the left darting through the gloom, and spreading a red
glare all over the earth, on which the active soldiers were serving the
batteries; the shells flying through the air; the cannons thundering,
and displaying their masters to the view by the red flames vomited from
their mouths; the ships in the distance, and the town on fire in four
places! The sight was truly awful!—In the midst of this convulsion
Colonel Pack, with a party of his own regiment, the 71st, the 36th, and
the German Legion, assaulted a battery which the enemy had constructed
on the left of the town, and which did considerable execution among our
men. Availing himself of a few moments of darkness, he advanced at the
head of his column to the very mouths of the guns! The next moment the
discharge of a huge rocket shed over the whole battery a red light,
and just as the assailants were clambering up its sides. Short, but
desperate, was the work; the French defended themselves with great
courage, but the bayonets of the British carried the battery gallantly;
and thus, one of the enemy's last resources was cut off. The Frenchmen
were instantly marched to the rear; and it was an encouraging sight
for our soldiers to distinguish, through the gloom, the outline of the
figures of their countrymen victoriously seizing on the enemy's best
battery, under the very walls of the town.
During this dreadful night and the preceding, the inhabitants of
Middleburg, whose kindred and friends were inside of the besieged town,
had been running about the rear of our lines, lamenting their fate;
and at every discharge of rocket or shell, seeming to shudder with
apprehension. These feelings were rendered more poignant when they
considered that the English had, previous to opening the batteries,
sent a flag of truce in vain, to propose that the women and children
should be allowed to pass out from the town—for this proposal was
refused by Monet. It was known also to the inhabitants of Middleburg
and to us, that these women with their children assembled in a body,
and proceeded to the quarters of that General, to entreat him to grant
the request; but they were answered by the appearance of a six-pounder
before the gate, and assured that if they did not disperse, it would be
employed to compel them to do so!
At day-break, Monet sued for a suspension of hostilities for two days:
of course this was refused; but two hours were given him to consider
further, before the bombardment should proceed. He could have gained
nothing by further obstinacy: it could only have had the effect of
producing the cruel destruction of the town and its inhabitants:
accordingly, he wisely capitulated within the time allowed him for
coming to a determination.
The garrison (upwards of a thousand) were permitted to march out with
honours; and, having drawn up outside the gates, their bands playing
and the eagle flying, they laid down their arms, and were marched off
prisoners of war.
On entering the town, we found it in a most deplorable state of
dilapidation, particularly on the side exposed to the sea, and that
which had been opposed to our right. The flames were still raging where
the rockets had taken effect, and one whole street was a mere heap of
ruins: the stadthouse was burnt down: few houses, indeed, in the whole
town escaped being shot through by our balls; and there were no less
than four holes made thus in the room of a cheesemonger's house, where
I afterwards took up my quarters. One of the balls had passed through
the centre of an old-fashioned clock, and another had broken to pieces
a fine oak table. In the billiard-room, near the beach, there were
five or six large shot, piled up as a curiosity: these had passed into
the room from our ships. The countenances of the inhabitants when we
marched in, were not joyous; they had suffered too much; they looked as
if they were spirit-broken; and no house of accommodation opened to the
British, but two—the one kept by an Englishman, of the name of Hector,
and the other by a native.
A considerable number of wounded remained, both of French and natives;
among the latter I found a most interesting young girl, who had
suffered amputation of the thigh: she had been hit by one of our
shells, while in bed. Hundreds of the inhabitants were dug out from
the ruins, dying and dead; tears and groans and desolation were to be
met with at every step. “Alem! Vlissengen!”[13] was muttered by every
tongue; and Flushing, one of the prettiest towns in Zealand, was now
prostrate in the dust. The drunken war-fiend had feasted there, and all
around were to be seen the fragments of his revelry.
In a few days after the capitulation, we were ordered to Middleburg,
where we relaxed a little from the severities of the siege. With the
exception of the dread of sickness, which pervaded all Englishmen
at that time, every thing to us was enjoyment in this city. It was
fair-time when we arrived: delight was in every body's countenance; and
this hilarity in one of the prettiest little cities on earth, where
hospitality was lavished on us, removed a great deal of our dread of
the prevailing fever, which was then daily destroying fifty or sixty
of our men. The officers were quartered at the houses of the principal
inhabitants, who behaved with the most praiseworthy kindness to all,
furnishing not only quarters of a superior kind, but excellent tables
and wine. I have particular reason to remember gratefully the people
of the house in which I was myself quartered, because their kindness
appeared even more disinterested than the rest, as will be seen by
the following circumstance:—I had arrived late at Middleburg, having
been detained behind the regiment, and on one of the most rainy and
thundering nights that ever visited a hot summer. By some of the people
I was directed to the _straad_ where the best hotel was situated, and
after a long search found the house, and rang at the door. I was
admitted by a very pretty and interesting young lady, who said in
French that her father would be down stairs immediately, and politely
showed me into the parlour.
In a moment a respectable-looking man, of about sixty years of age,
entered, and addressed me in Dutch, with a most affable air, the
politeness of which I understood, but the meaning not at all, for I
knew no more of the Dutch language than I did of the Coptic; however,
the young lady soon explained in French what the old man said, and I
found his address was nothing more than that he was extremely glad to
see me as a British officer, and that every thing in his power was at
my service. I replied, that I had just arrived from Flushing, and that
I was directed to his hotel as being the best—that I was very wet, and
that I wished for some refreshment. The lady smiled as she conveyed
my words to her father in his own language, on which the old man
clasped my hand in both of his, and in the most pressing manner begged
me to make his house my home while I staid in the town. The daughter
interpreted this request, adding her own invitation with such an air
of sincerity, that I accepted the kind offer. We soon became intimate:
supper was served, and the old gentleman and I finished a bottle or two
of genuine old wine in the happiest manner possible. I slept there that
night, and at breakfast the next morning he produced a “billet” for
me, signed by the principal burgo-master, having got my name from my
card, and thus he _regularly_ quartered me upon _himself_. I remained
at the house of this most hospitable man until the general embarkation.
He treated me more like his own son than a stranger—all my wishes were
anticipated, and some of the happiest months of my existence were
decidedly those I passed beneath the generous Dutchman's roof.
Our corps became very sickly in a few days, and we lost the greatest
number both of officers and men. How I escaped, I know not; I took no
precaution to avoid the effects of the climate, except indeed that I
made a liberal use of segars and good “Hollands,” agreeably diluted.
Some _pure_ water-drinkers fared worse, and fell victims to the fever:
I am inclined to think, upon the whole, that my plan was the best.
Good-living seemed to be the order of the day, while we remained at
Middleburg, from the Commander-in-Chief down to the Sub. I do not now
speak from actual observation of Lord Chatham's merits, as regards his
Lordship's gastronomy, for I was both too young, and of too humble
a rank, to expect such an honour; but from general report, and the
circumstance of a man having fallen and dislocated his shoulder under
the weight of a most admirable turtle, which he was conveying to the
quarters of the Commander-in-Chief, as a present from Sir William
Curtis, who had accompanied the expedition in his yacht.
In the latter end of December, we marched to Flushing, to embark, as
the island was to be evacuated by the British troops. Here we witnessed
the finishing stroke of destruction given to that unhappy town. Every
thing that could be rendered useful to the fortification was destroyed,
the fine arsenal was set on fire, the guns spiked, bridges broken,
and docks demolished, before the eyes of the sorrowful townspeople.
The burning of the arsenal was a grand and melancholy spectacle—it
illuminated the whole atmosphere, and so strong was the heat reflected
upon the town by it, that the inhabitants were necessitated to use
water-engines against their various dwellings, to prevent a general
conflagration. A terrific hurricane soon followed this, and injured
our fleet of transports off Flushing excessively: the crews of two
were lost. This delayed us a few days longer. At length the whole
of our forces were embarked, and we sailed on the 23rd of December
from the island, in which eleven thousand of our gallant comrades had
been consigned to the grave. It was one of the most black, rainy, and
foggy mornings that ever hung over the moist flats of Holland, when
we weighed anchor, and our departure was _saluted_ from the opposite
shore, Cadsand, with thirty-six pound shot, which (although from the
distance we kept, it could not do much injury) the enemy, as if in
exultation, sent us as a parting compliment: one shot unluckily took
effect, and killed a sergeant of the 71st. We were but a short time
at sea; for on Christmas-day we landed at Deal; very different beings
as to dress, &c., to what we were when we left that port a few months
before.
Thus ended the Walcheren Expedition. It was my first campaign in the
service, and although attended with some trouble, and a great deal of
danger, I remember even its worst passages with pleasure; for they were
associated with my morning of life, and as such have become subjects of
sweet recollection to me now. My troubles, on the whole, were nearly
counterbalanced by gentle contingencies. The life of a campaigner would
be a dreary picture indeed, if some relief were not thrown into it by
the light of the heart: and seldom, thank Heaven! has there occurred a
scene in my military panorama where I could not find a gleam. Whence
comes the brightest? From woman's eyes. A soldier is nothing without
his lass—his life reads badly—cold, dull, and monotonous. But this,
gentle reader, was not my case; enthusiastic, imaginative, ready to
adore every thing sentimental, or romantic, how could I avoid the
flowery way? I _did_ fall in love—as every young officer should do, who
knows his duty; and the first decided symptom of my derangement, was
the following poetical fit which seized me as soon as I found I was no
more in Walcheren.