CHAPTER II.

Our keel had scarcely touched the sand ere we were abruptly boarded by a naval officer (Captain Hill) with a gang of sailors, who, _sans cérémonie_, instantly commenced hoisting our horses out, and throwing them, as well as our saddlery, &c., overboard, without ever giving time for making any disposition to receive or secure the one or the other. To my remonstrance his answer was, “I can’t help it, sir; the Duke’s _orders are positive that no delay is to take place in landing the troops as they arrive, and the ships sent back again; so you must be out of her before dark_.” It was then about three P.M.; and I thought this a most uncomfortable arrangement.

The scramble and confusion that ensued baffle all description. Bundles of harness went over the side in rapid succession, as well as horses. In vain we urged the loss and damage that must accrue from such a proceeding. “Can’t help it--no business of mine--Duke’s orders are positive,” &c. &c., was our only answer. Meantime the ebb had begun to diminish the depth of water alongside, and enabled us to send parties overboard and to the beach to collect and carry our things ashore, as well as to haul and secure the horses. The same operation commenced from the other vessels as they arrived, and the bustle and noise were inconceivable. The Dragoons and our men (some nearly, others quite, naked) were dashing in and out of the water, struggling with the affrighted horses, or securing their wet accoutrements as best they could. Some of the former were saddling their dripping horses, and others mounting and marching off in small parties. Disconsolate-looking groups of women and children were to be seen here and there sitting on their poor duds, or roaming about in search of their husbands, or mayhap of a stray child, all clamouring, lamenting, and materially increasing the babel-like confusion, amidst which Erin’s brogue was everywhere predominant. Irish beggars swarm everywhere and in all quarters of the globe. Even here they pestered us to death, and one young bare-legged rascal, when he found his whining and cant unavailing, suddenly changing his tone, tried to excite our liberality by a dirty joke on the Flemish pronunciation of their word horse (_pferd_). Add to all this crowds of people from the town idling about--some as spectators, others watching for windfalls; some bringing cakes, beer, &c., for sale, others teazing the officers with various offers of service, and these not always of the most respectable kind.

It was not without difficulty that I succeeded at last in impressing upon Captain Hill the necessity of leaving our guns and ammunition-waggons, &c., on board for the night--otherwise his furious zeal would have turned all out to stand on the wet sand or be washed away. Meantime, although we were on shore, we were without orders what to do next. Not an officer, either of the staff, the garrison, nor even of our own corps, came near us. Night approached, and with it bad weather evidently. Our poor shivering horses and heaps of wet harness could not remain on the sands much longer, when the flood began to make again; and it was necessary to look about and see what could be done. With this intent, therefore, leaving the officers to collect their divisions, I got one of my horses saddled and rode into the town. Here was the same bustle (although not the same confusion) as on the sands. The streets were thronged with British officers, and the quays with guns, waggons, horses, baggage, &c.

One would hardly expect to meet with any delay in finding the commandant of a fortress, yet such was my case; and it was not until after long and repeated inquiry that I discovered Lieutenant-Colonel Gregory, 44th Regiment, to be that personage, and found his residence. From him, however, I could obtain nothing. He seemed hardly to have expected the compliment of reporting our arrival, and stated that he had no other orders but that the troops of every arm should march for Ghent the moment they landed, without halting a single day in Ostend.

Strange to say, neither I nor the Colonel recollected there was such a person in Ostend as an Assistant-Quartermaster-General, who should be referred to on such an occasion. Yet this was the case; and that officer, instead of attending the debarkation of the troops, or making himself acquainted with the arrivals, kept out of sight altogether. Baffled at all points, I was returning to the sands when I met Major Drummond on the Quai Impérial, and related my story. He had been here some time, and was consequently acquainted with the locale. His advice was to march to Ghystelle (a village about six miles from Ostend), and after putting up there for the night, to return and disembark my guns, &c., in the morning. Whilst speaking, however, some one (I forget who) came up with the agreeable information that Ghystelle was already fully occupied by the 16th Dragoons. He, however, gave me directions for some large sheds about a mile off, where his own horses has passed the preceding night. This was some consolation; so riding off immediately to reconnoitre the place and the road to it, I returned to the beach just as it got dark; and a most miserable scene of confusion I there found. Our saddles, harness, baggage, &c., were still strewed about the sand, and these the flood, which was now making, threatened soon to submerge. _Pour surcroît de malheur_, the rain came down in torrents, and a storm, which had been brewing up the whole afternoon, now burst over us most furiously. The lightning was quite tremendous, whilst a hurricane, howling horribly through the rigging of the ships, was only exceeded in noise by the loud explosions and rattling of the incessant claps of thunder.

Our people, meantime, blinded by the lightning, had borrowed some lanterns from the ship, and were busily employed searching for the numerous articles still missing. The obscurity, however, between the vivid flashes was such that we were only enabled to keep together by repeatedly calling to each other, and it was not without difficulty and great watchfulness that we escaped being caught by the tide, which flowed rapidly in over the flat sands. At length, having collected as many of our things as was possible, and saddled our horses (some two or three of which had escaped altogether), we began our march for the sheds a little after midnight, with a farrier and another dismounted man carrying lanterns at the head of our column. The rain continued pouring, but flashes of lightning occurred now only at intervals, and the more subdued rolling of the thunder told us that it was passing away in the distance. Our route lay through the town, to gain which we found some advanced ditch to be crossed by a very frail wooden bridge. Half the column, perhaps, might have cleared this, when “crack” down it went, precipitating all who were on it at the moment into the mud below, and completely cutting off those in the rear. Here was a dilemma. Ignorant of the localities, and without a guide, how was the rear of the column to join us, or how were the people in the ditch, with their horses, to be extricated? Luckily none were hurt seriously, and the depth was not great--not more, perhaps, than six or eight feet; but that was enough to baffle all our attempts at extricating the horses. Some Belgic soldiers of a neighbouring guard, of which we were not aware, fortunately heard us, and came to our assistance; and one of them, crossing the ditch, undertook to guide the rear of our column and those below to another gate, whilst one accompanied us to the Quai Impérial, where, after waiting a while, we were at length assembled, drenched with rain and starving of cold and hunger. The Quai was silent and dark; the only light gleamed dimly through the wet from a miserable lamp over the door of a café, in which people were still moving; and the only sounds that broke the stillness of the quarter were the splashing of the rain and the clattering of our steel scabbards and horses’ feet as we moved dejectedly on--winding our way through unknown avenues (for in the dark I found it impossible to recognise the narrow streets through which I had so hurriedly passed in the afternoon), occasionally illuminated by a solitary lamp, the feeble light of which, however, was somewhat increased by reflection on the wet pavement. After following for some time this devious course, I began to fear I had missed the road, when again we stumbled upon a Belgic guard, by whose direction and guidance we at length reached the outer barrier. Here we again came to a standstill, the officer in charge refusing to let us out. Some altercation ensued: I forget the particulars, but it ended in his opening the gate.

Once clear of the town, we hoped soon to reach our lodging; but had scarcely advanced a hundred yards ere we found that result was more distant than we had fancied, and that patience was still requisite. The rain had rendered the fat soil so slippery that our horses could scarcely keep their legs, and the road running along the narrow summit of a dyke, with ditches on each side, rendered precaution and slow movement imperative. Every moment the fall of some horse impeded the column; our lanterns went out; and after wandering a considerable time, we at length ascertained, by knocking up the people at a house by the wayside, that we had overshot our mark, and it was not until two in the morning that we succeeded in finding the sheds. These were immensely long buildings attached to some saw-mills, for what use I know not, unless to store planks, &c., for they were now empty; but they were admirably adapted to our purpose, since we could range all our horses along one side, whilst the men occupied the other, in one of them. A quantity of hay, and some straw, left by our predecessors, was a valuable acquisition to man and beast under such circumstances. All our enjoyments are the effect of contrast. It would be considered miserable enough to be obliged to pass the night under such equivocal shelter as these sheds afforded, and that, too, in wet clothes; yet did we now, after twelve hours of harassing work and exposure to the weather, look upon them as palaces, and, having cared for our poor beasts as far as circumstances would permit, proceeded to prepare for that repose so necessary and so longed for.

I was already ensconced in some hay, when Lieutenant Leathes, who had been reconnoitring, brought intelligence that the people were still up in an adjoining miller’s house, and that they were willing to give us shelter until morning. Thither, therefore, we repaired; and being ushered into the kitchen, quite a pattern of neatness, found the good woman and one of her men already busy making a fire and preparing some coffee for us--unlooked-for luxury! To this kindness she added the offer of two beds, which were eagerly and thankfully accepted by Lieutenants Ingleby and Bell. For my part, I preferred not pulling off my wet clothes and putting them on again in the morning, and therefore declined. Spite of our fatigue, we were all so refreshed by the coffee, that a pleasant hour was passed chatting to our kind hostess and joking with her man Coché, a sort of good-humoured, half-witted Caliban. At last sleep began to weigh heavily on our eyelids. The lady retired to her chamber, Coché hid himself somewhere, and, sinking back in our old-fashioned high-backed chairs, we were soon unconscious of everything.

_14th._--Awoke from my slumbers just as the grey dawn began to render objects visible in the kitchen. My companions still slept soundly, so without disturbing them I quietly explored my way to the door, and soon found myself in a pretty little garden, ornamented and intersected by high hedges or walls of verdure, the young leaves of which, scarcely yet fully developed, were of the brightest green. These screens, effectually protecting the beds, in which many an early flower already blossomed, I thought delightful. It was the first time I had seen these _brise-vents_, or hornbeam hedges, which I subsequently found so common. The air of the morning was delicious, and my clothes having dried during my repose, I again felt comfortable and happy as I sauntered about the garden, enjoying the morning song of the little birds, with which the whole neighbourhood resounded. I could have stayed for ever in this tranquil and, as I then thought it, lovely retreat. By-and-by my companions turned out, and we lost no time in getting again under way in order to reach the gates of Ostend as soon as they opened.

Sass, or Schlickens, where we had passed the night, is the port of the Bruges canal, and hence the Treckschuyt from Ostend for that city takes its departure. It cannot be called a village, there being only a few small houses connected with the canal business, and some saw-mills and others worked by wind. Surrounded by marsh, it is a dreary comfortless place, although this was hidden from me in the early morning by the verdant screens in the miller’s garden.

Our road back to the town, now we had daylight, appeared very short, and, having dried considerably, was not so slippery as last night. The gates were not yet opened when we arrived; a crowd of workmen of different kinds had already assembled and were waiting for admission, as were we, for a few minutes. At last they opened, and we proceeded to the harbour in search of our ship. The Quais, beach, &c., were thronged as on the day before, and we added to the bustle in disembarking our guns and carriages, &c. This was completed by eleven o’clock, and we were ready to march forward; but the commissariat detained us waiting the issue of our rations until three P.M.--four mortal hours, considering our eagerness to get on and explore this new country, and the bore of being confined to one spot, since it was impossible to wander about the town, seeing that we could not calculate the moment when these gentry might find it convenient to supply us. Of our horses two were still missing, as were some saddle-bags and a number of smaller articles; and this is not to be wondered at when the scandalous manner in which they were thrown overboard, the badness of the weather, the darkness of the night, together with the ebbing and flowing of the tide, are taken into consideration.

The appearance, too, of the troop was vexatious in the extreme. Our noble horses, yesterday morning so sleek and spirited, now stood with drooping heads and rough staring coats, plainly indicating the mischief they had sustained in being taken from a hot hold, plunged into cold water, and then exposed for more than seven hours on an open beach to such a tempest of wind and rain as that we experienced last night. Here was a practical illustration of the folly of grooming and pampering military horses, destined as they are to such exposures and privations. As for our men, they looked jaded, their clothes all soiled with mud and wet, the sabres rusty, and the bear-skins of their helmets flattened down by the rain. Still, however, they displayed the same spirit and alacrity as that which has always been a characteristic of the horse-artillery, more particularly of G troop.

Whilst thus awaiting our rations, we had ample leisure to look about us, and amuse ourselves with the varied groups collected on the quay and the novelty of the scene. To be sure, the principal of these were English, and mostly soldiers too. Some were drinking at the doors of the cabarets, knapsacks on their backs, and prepared to start; others already in movement, escorting baggage; near us a battery of field-artillery parked, with their horses picketed in a long line along the rear of the carriages, quietly eating their corn out of hair nosebags, which ever and anon they would toss in the air, the better to get at the few remaining grains of their food; gunners and drivers lying about ready to fall in or mount at the shortest notice. Here they had passed the night, and the remains of their fires were still glowing in some rudely-constructed fireplaces of loose stones or bricks. Such objects were familiar to our eyes, but they were intermixed with others which were not. These were the Flemish peasantry, with their heavy countenances, walking by the side of their long, narrow waggons, and guiding their noble horses with admirable dexterity through the throng by long reins of small (very small) cord passing through holes in the clumsy highly-ornamental collars or haims. Long blue smock-frocks, decorated with embroidery in coloured worsted about the breast and shoulders; their skulls ensconced in night-caps, red or white; many with long thick queues--and all in clumsy wooden shoes. Women, with hard weather-beaten features, in long-eared caps, enormous gold pendants in their ears, a small cross on the breast, suspended from the scraggy neck by a strip of black velvet, thick petticoats, giving great swell to the hip, and from their shortness exhibiting a pair of stout understanders cased in coarse blue stockings and terminating in heavy _sabots_, enriched about the instep by a rabbit’s skin clumped about in all directions. From time to time a patrol of the gendarmerie, in plain blue uniforms, with large white grenades on the skirts and the ends of their valises, broad belts, and high, stiff, well-polished boots, passed quietly through the assembled crowds; their quick inquiring eyes cast searchingly about as they moved leisurely along. At the corner of the quay was a group of boatmen (not much differing in outward appearance from our own of the same class) listlessly reclining on the pavement, or lounging up and down with folded arms, amusing themselves with the bustling anxiety of a score of soldiers’ wives, who, loaded with children or bundles, their ample grey or faded red cloaks flying out loosely behind them, struggled through all impediments opposed to their progress with an activity, perseverance, and volubility which seemed highly diverting to the mariners, many of whom, in broken English, were bantering these amazons, or exchanging coarse jokes with them; at which play, however,--the ladies being mostly from the Green Isle--the gentlemen came off second best.

Such were the scenes we contemplated, when a loud cry of dismay suddenly pervaded the crowd, and all simultaneously rushed to the ramparts. I followed this movement. The morning, though somewhat overcast, had been fine, and the wind moderate; but as the day advanced, and the flood-tide set in, the south-westerly breeze had gradually increased to a gale. On reaching the rampart, I immediately observed that the flat shore to the northward, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with a sheet of white foam from the tremendous surf breaking on it; whilst the spray, rising in clouds and borne along before the blast, involved the whole neighbourhood in a thick salt mist. Nothing could be more savage and wild than the appearance of the coast. In the offing, numerous vessels under small sail were running for the harbour. One small brig had missed, and before assistance could be given, had been whirled round the _jetée_, and cast broadside on amongst the breakers. Her situation was truly awful. The surf broke over her in a frightful manner, sending its spray higher than her masts, and causing her to roll from side to side until her yards dipped in the water, and induced a belief every moment that she must roll over. Every now and then a huge wave, larger than its predecessor, would raise her bodily, and then, rapidly receding, suddenly let her fall again on the ground with a concussion that made the masts bend and vibrate like fishing-rods, and seemed to threaten instant annihilation. Of her sails, some were torn to rags, and others, flying loose, flapped and fluttered with a noise that was audible from the rampart, despite the roaring of the surf. The people on board appeared in great agitation, and kept shouting to those on shore for assistance, which they were unable to give. Intense anxiety pervaded the assembled multitude as the shattered vessel alternately rose to view or was buried in a sea of foam. Numbers ran down to the sands opposite to her; and from them she could not have been twenty yards distant, yet could they not afford the despairing crew the slightest aid. Whilst thus attending in breathless expectation the horrid catastrophe, the return of our quartermaster with the rations summoned us unwillingly from the rampart to commence our march. We afterwards learnt that a boat from the harbour had succeeded in saving the crew (she had no troops on board); but the unfortunate pilot who thus gallantly risked his own life for them was killed by the boat rising suddenly under the vessel’s counter as he stood in the bow, which dashed his brains out.

Of Ostend I have little to say, my whole time and mind being fully occupied during the few hours of my stay in it. The impression it made on me was a dismal one. Narrow dirty streets; gloomy, old-fashioned, low, mean houses; the whole surrounded by marsh, sand-hills, or sea; and that sea, from its muddy colour, detracting nought from the lugubrious effect of the scene. Of the fortifications I saw still less than of the town; yet, from what little I did see, it would appear that Ostend depends more upon water than earth or stone--its great protection consisting in the facility of inundating the neighbouring marshes. On the Blanckenberg side, situated upon an eminence (I think of sand), we had a glimpse of Fort Napoleon, and working parties were busy constructing a redoubt among the sand-hills toward Nieuport. We had no leisure, however, to visit either.