Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815Mercer, Cavalié
History
Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815
Mercer, Cavalié
Mercer, Cavalié, 1783-1868 -- Diaries; Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815 -- Personal narratives, British
Our attention, before engaged by our perilous situation, was now
directed to new and exhilarating objects on the other side, where
the works of the town arose immediately from the sands. These were
crowded with spectators, and, being Sunday, all in their best; so
that the sun, just peeping out as we shot along, imparted to the
scene quite an air of gaiety; and to us it was also a novel one. I
remember being mightily struck with the head-dress of the women, so
different from what we had been accustomed to see at home, and the
comparison was certainly not in favour of my fair compatriots. With
these the fashionable coiffure was a large low _poke_-bonnet, which
I had always fancied very becoming; but there is no describing how
this sunk into meanness and deformity in a moment when I cast my
eyes on the elegantly tapering, high-crowned straws of the _belles_
on the rampart, encircled sometimes with two, and even three, rows
of gay ribbon or artificial flowers. These gave them such a lofty
commanding air, and withal was so light and graceful. But bonnets
were not allowed long to occupy my attention. Followed by a crowd of
other craft of all sorts and sizes, we shot rapidly along towards
that part of the harbour where a dense assemblage of shipping filled
up its whole breadth, and forbade further progress, so that one
wondered what was to become of the numerous vessels in our wake.
The mystery was soon explained, for each having attained the point,
turning her prow to the town, ran bump on the sands, and there stuck
fast. Those immediately above us had just arrived, and from them
a regiment of Light Dragoons was in the act of disembarking by
throwing the horses overboard, and then hauling them ashore by a long
rope attached to their head-collars. What a scene! What hallooing,
shouting, vociferating, and plunging! The poor horses did not appear
much gratified by their sudden transition from the warm hold to a
cold bath.
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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