Waterloo Days: The narrative of an Englishwoman resident at Brussels in June 1815Eaton, Charlotte A. (Charlotte Anne)
History
Waterloo Days: The narrative of an Englishwoman resident at Brussels in June 1815
Eaton, Charlotte A. (Charlotte Anne)
Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815
the spirit turbulent that did not partake of its repose: everything
seemed to have been touched by the hand of enchantment. But the magic
spell was dissolved, and the visions of fancy faded away in a moment;
for we suddenly struck upon the sands, when we seemed still far from
the shore; waves of apparent fire dashed into the boat; and the sturdy
sailors, abandoning their oars, seized upon us without the smallest
ceremony, and carried us literally through fire and water to the beach.
Thus were we thrown, late at night, and in the dark, upon a foreign
coast, uncertain which way to direct our steps through the deep,
deserted, trackless sands that surrounded us; forewarned of the rapid
approach of the tides upon this coast, and wholly at a loss in what
direction lay the town, or how to get admittance through the sentry
posts, at such an hour, if we did reach it. Yet under these appalling
circumstances, I cannot say that we felt the smallest alarm, or even a
momentary uncomfortable situation: we had no fear of being drowned, nor
the remotest idea that any more serious mischief could befal us than
spending the night upon the sands, of which, however, there seemed to
be much probability. Luckily for us, this Mr. N. proved a most able
pilot; he had frequently been at Ostend before, and led the way with
great sagacity, in spite of the darkness in which we were involved.
We were all loaded with travelling bags, or parcels of some sort, for
it was with difficulty the little nutshell of a boat contained our
six selves, and all the servants were left in the vessel. We were
each, therefore, obliged to carry all that we wanted of our travelling
equipments; and thus burdened, and sinking every step ankle deep
in the heavy sands, we reached at last, with considerable toil, the
fortifications, and were immediately hailed by the soldier on guard. We
declared ourselves to be "friends," but in vain; friends or foes were
all the same to the sentry; we might have lain all night in the ditch,
for anything he cared; for his orders were positive, to admit no person
into the garrison, without the express order of the commandant after
dark. But the cocked hat, aide-de-camp's uniform, and authoritative
tone of Major Wylie carried us all through. He declared "that he and
his party were going to join the army with speed;" and, although some
of us must have struck the sentry as not being likely to prove a very
valuable reinforcement to the troops, he did not venture to make any
further opposition, and we all entered Ostend. Although we came "in
such a questionable shape," we obtained admittance into "La Cour
Impériale," where we got an excellent supper, which was particularly
acceptable to some of us, who had eaten nothing all day, excepting
a bit of bread. We then went to bed, where we enjoyed the sweets of
undisturbed repose, with a zest which none but those who have spent a
suffocating, sick, and sleepless night in a wretched little berth on
board a packet, can understand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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