At length, a convoy arrived for a noble family, and we endeavoured to take the benefit of it by embarking in a packet, which sailed at the same time; but the sloop of war was unable to pass over what are called the Flats, and our captain had resolved to proceed without it, notwithstanding the contrarieties of the wind; when, with much joy, we discerned a small boat, and knew it to be English by the skilful impetuosity of the rowers. Having induced the people of the packet to make a signal, by paying them for the passage to Harwich, we were fortunately taken on board this boat, at the distance of about three leagues from Helvoetsluys, and soon re-landed at that place; the packet proceeding on her voyage, which, supposing no interruption from the French vessels, was not likely to be made in less than three days. We rejoiced at the release from fatigue and from fear, at least, if not from danger; and, seeing little probability of an immediate passage, returned, the next day, to Rotterdam, with the hope of finding some neutral vessel, bound to an English port.
We were immediately gratified by the promise of an American captain to meet us with his vessel at Helvoetsluys, and, the next day, had a delightful voyage thither, in a hired yacht, partly by the Maese, and partly by channels inaccessible to large vessels.
[FLAARDING.]
The Maese presently brought us opposite to this small port, the metropolis of the herring fishers; rendered interesting by the patient industry and useful courage of its inhabitants. We landed at it, but saw only what was immediately open for observation. Like most of the Dutch towns, on the banks of rivers, it is protected from floods by standing at the distance of three or four hundred yards from the shore, and communicates with the stream only by a narrow, but deep canal. The best street is built upon the quays of this channel, on which the herring boats deposit their cargoes before the doors of the owners. We did not see more than fifty, a great number being then at sea. Except the business in this street, and the smell of herrings, which prevailed every where, there was nothing to shew that we were in a place supported solely by the industry of fishermen; no neglected houses, no cottages, no dirty streets, no inferiority, in point of neatness and brightness, to the other towns of Holland.
The inhabitants are remarkable for adhering to the dress, as well as the employments of their ancestors; so much so, that their clothing is mentioned in other towns as the representation of the antient national dress, common throughout all the provinces two centuries since; and it is certain, that their appearance is exactly such as is delineated in pictures of that date.
Some miles further, we entered the old Maese, a channel in several parts very narrow, and evidently preserved by art, but in others nobly expansive, and filled almost to the level of the luxuriant pastures and groves that border it. In one part, where the antient stream takes a circuitous course, a canal has been cut, that shortens the voyage, for light vessels, by several miles, and barks in one channel are sometimes visible from the other, their sails swelling over fields, in which, at a distance, no water is discernible. Neat and substantial farmhouses, with meadows flaming from them to the river, frequently occurred; and there were more appearances of the careful labours, peculiar to the Dutch, than in the great Maese itself, the banks being occasionally supported, like their dykes, by a compact basket-work of flags and faggots.
Passing many small villages, or hamlets, we came, at sun-set, to the large branch of the sea, which spreads from Williamstadt to Helvoetsluys, and from thence to the German ocean. The former fortress was faintly visible at a great distance over the water; and, while we were straining our sight towards it, there was proof enough of a nearness to the present theatre of war, the sounds of the siege of Sluys coming loudly and distinctly in the breeze. The characters of evening had fallen upon the scene in mild and deep solemnity; but the glories of nature were unfelt, while a dreadful estimation of the miseries, produced at each return of the sullen roar, pressed almost exclusively upon the mind; considerations, which were soon after prolonged by the melancholy view of several English transports, filled with wounded soldiers, whose blythe music, now at the firing of the evening gun, was rendered painful by its contrast to the truth of their conditions.
At Helvoetsluys, nothing was to be heard, but accounts, derived from many respectable officers, on their way to England, of the unexampled difficulties borne, cheerfully borne, by the British army, within the last three months, and deservedly mentioned, not as complaints, but as proofs of their firmness. There were, however, mingled with these, many reports as to the contrary conduct even of those continental troops, which still kept the field with us; of their tardiness, their irregularity, of the readiness with which they permitted the British to assume all the dangers of attacks, and of their little co-operation even in the means of general resistance. Brave Anglois! Brave Anglois! was the constant shout of these troops, when they had recourse to the British to regain the posts themselves had just lost, or to make some assault, which they had refused, or had attempted with ineffectual formality. They would then follow our troops, and, when an advantage was gained, seemed to think they had share enough of the victory, if they were at hand to continue the slaughter of the retreating, and to engross all the plunder of the dead.