OFF TO DOVER—A STORMY MORNING
Next morning, about four o’clock, the bugle sounded the reveille and soon after we were all in marching order. We proceeded by an early train on the Chatham and Dover Railway, and by nine o’clock in the morning had reached our destination—Dover. It was, I think, one of the coldest and most miserable mornings I ever experienced. The sea was very rough, the waves lashing on the roadway; and the rain came down in torrents. During the night there had been such a storm in the Channel, the natives said, that had not been equalled for half-a-century. The whole of the soldiers were paraded on the Esplanade, but they were again and again forced back from the edge of the shore, until there was really no room to pile arms. General Lindsay saw the situation, and came riding up with several officers, with whom he held a sort of council of war. Before they had arrived at a decision, the waves had come over the beach and dashed right up to where the soldiers were standing. “It’s no use,” said General Lindsey, “this review is a forlorn hope—I must dismiss the parade.” He then gave the whole of the Volunteers orders to dismiss until three o’clock in the afternoon. The men dispersed in various directions, and just as they had got pretty nearly cleared away, up rode the Duke of Cambridge and Prince Arthur (now Duke of Connaught). The two Royal personages drew up in front of a large hotel, and out of curiosity I remained standing by. The Duke was in a very angry mood, and demanded to know who had dismissed the parade. Upon this, General Lindsey made his appearance in the doorway of the hotel, and, addressing the Duke of Cambridge, said:—“Your Royal Highness,—Owing to the severe inclemency of the weather, I have thought fit to dismiss the parade until three o’clock in the afternoon.” “You had no business to do such a thing,” the Duke hotly replied. “It will be a failure, and His Majesty the King of Belgium will be disappointed. Send out your aid-de-camp to bring everyone in—never mind the weather.” The storm was still raging. I noticed a couple of steamers in the offing. They were coming from France, and the passengers were Volunteers who had been in that country since Saturday. The vessels could be seen buffeting with the waves, and it was noticed that the funnels of the steamers were missing, having, as we afterwards learned, been blown away by the violent wind and heavy sea. It was about this period that a small vessel—a gunboat, I think it was—the “Ferret,” was driven on the rocks in front of the Castle, and dashed to pieces. The crew managed to get off by the boats. For a time it was believed that a boy on the boat had been lost, but he was subsequently rescued. After much delay the two steamers were able to land the Volunteers, who told a terrible tale of their rough voyage across the Channel.