The faint form of the ships, at times in the fog, had rather a sublime appearance. The Commodore was on our starboard beam, which we knew by his occasionally firing guns of guidance; the sound was very near, but the flash could not be perceived. About twelve o’clock he made a signal to alter the course, and at two o’clock he made another signal, and we had some anxiety lest a mistake should make us lose the Fleet.
At about three o’clock, however, the fog cleared away, and discovered the Commodore close on our larboard-quarter, steaming the same course with us, some thirty or forty miles from the coast of Jutland.
These Baltic fogs are extremely unpleasant, and lie chiefly on the shoal called Jutland Reef. The vessel was obliged to be constantly beating drums and ringing bells, lest some other ship should come upon her unknowingly, from the perfect obscurity in which we were involved.
Tuesday, May 17.—Wind blowing very fresh and a heavy sea. At a quarter before three had Gothenburg on the lee beam. At half-past three pilot came on board, at four anchored near Elfsborg Castle; experienced much pleasure from the force of contrast—coming at once from very rough sea-weather into harbour, and leaving the waves in the lurch.
Aspect of Gothenburg Harbour very wild and bleak.
Wednesday 18.—May go on shore, but not to sleep. Mr. Hindmarsh takes us in his boat and we land at Tod’s Quay.
After entering the gates of Gothenburg, we went into a shop to inquire for an inn, and found a very pretty boy translating English into Swedish. His book was entitled Village Dialogues. He spoke English very well, and also French and German, and was exceedingly modest and well-behaved. His father stood by, and contemplated the acuteness of his son with delight, pleased to find that he could make Englishmen understand him.
We proceed, meet a gentleman, and ask for an inn where a dinner might be got.
“’Twas a shocking place,” he said, but told us of an hotel. I then asked where I could hear of foreigners who might be in Gothenburg. “Did not know. Who did I want?” “Sir Brooke Boothby.”[15] Had seen him that morning; showed me where he lived—“Not at home.” Go to dine at Eryxon’s and find party of officers. After dinner go again to call on my uncle (Sir Brooke Boothby), whom I had not seen for nine years. We were delighted to see each other; had tea, walked to Tod’s Quay, embarked at nine, and was on board at 11 P.M.
General Stewart is the kindest creature in the world. He went the other day to ask the General (Sir John Moore) to appoint me his aide-de-camp, as the brigadier-generals were to be allowed them; but General Moore’s answer was, that he intended me for himself.