My brother drove me to Newark, but I was glad to get rid of him, glad when I had escaped my whole kindred, and was left at liberty to weep without adding to their tears.
To have the business of leave-taking over cheered my spirits. I once more felt free, and turned my thoughts upon my companions, those dear companions with whom for years I had been traversing the seas and the lands of Europe.
The passage to Lisbon was boisterous and disagreeable. We set sail on the 17th March 1809, sprang a leak, were run aboard of in the night, and expected to go down, and, in short, were forced to acknowledge that a transport is full of horror.
We landed at Lisbon on the 2nd April, and found it generally expected that Sir John Craddock would re-embark his army in a very few days. The force under his command was said to amount to 17,000, and Marshal Beresford with his Portuguese was called 25,000.
On the other hand, Soult had taken possession of Oporto with 13,000, or, according to some, 17,000. Victor was menacing the Alemtejo with 40,000, and another movable corps of 10,000 had shown itself in the neighbourhood of Ciudad Rodrigo.
Taking this rumoured state of things for granted, the re-embarkation of the army (to a man that knew the nature of Iberian troops) seemed at the first glance to be the most salutary measure that could be adopted.
Lisbon, 2nd April 1809.
My dearest Lou—After a disagreeable voyage we arrived in the Tagus to-day at two o’clock. I do not intend this for a letter, but to take the first opportunity to tell you of my safe arrival.
The French have taken Oporto, and we are supposed to be in force on the frontier.
I would make a bet that I see you again before the expiration of the summer, for they dare not stay to come in contact with the French army, at least I think so.