It was evening; the faint wind that follows sunset scarce filled the sails as we glided along through the waveless sea. I had been listening to the low, monotonous song of one of the sailors as he sat mending a sail beside me, when suddenly I heard a voice hail us from the water. The skipper jumped on the halfdeck, and immediately replied. The words I could not hear, but by the stir and movement about me I saw something unusual had occurred, and by an effort I raised my head above the bulwark and looked about me. A long, low craft lay close alongside us, filled with men, whose blue caps and striped shirts struck me as strange and uncommon, not less than their black belts and cutlasses, with which every man was armed. After an interchange of friendly greetings with our crew,—for such they seemed, although I could not catch the words,—she moved rapidly past us.
“There's their flotilla, sir,” said the helmsman, as he watched my eye while it wandered over the water.
I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shall I forget that moment. Before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant, lay a thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sandhills, decorated with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose bright colors and glittering arms shone gorgeously in the setting sunlight. The bright waves reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed to plash in unison with the rich swell of martial music that stole along the water with every freshening breeze. The shore was covered with tents, some of them surmounted with large banners that floated out gayly to the breeze; and far as the eye could reach were hosts of armed men dotted over the wide plain beside the sea. Vast columns of infantry were there,— cavalry and artillery, too,—their bright arms glittering, and their gay plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as if spellbound. As I looked, I could see horsemen gallop from the dense squares, and riding hurriedly to and fro. Suddenly a blue rocket shot into the calm sky, and broke in a million glittering fragments over the camp; the deep roar of a cannon boomed out; and then the music of a thousand bands swelled high and full, and in an instant the whole plain was in motion, and the turf trembled beneath the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment, squadron poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards the beach; while a long, dark line wound through the glittering mass, and marked the train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunition wagons they moved silently over the grassy surface.
All that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing to the gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening air, made tremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of drums; the mirror-like sea, colored with the reflection of bright banners and waving pennants; and then the simultaneous step of the mighty army,—so filled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove the mere pageant of a dream, and vanish as it came.
“What a glorious sight!” cried I, at length, half wild with enthusiasm. “Where are we?”
“Where are we?” repeated the skipper, smiling. “Look out, and you 'll soon guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King George? When did you see steel breastplates and helmets before? This is France, my lad!”
“France! France!” said I, stupefied with the mere thought.
“Yes, to be sure. That 's the Army of England, as they call it, you see yonder; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rockets! There they go,—three, four, five, six,—that's the signal. In less than half an hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how they press on faster and faster! and watch the cavalry, as they dismount and lead their horses down the steep! See how the boats pull in shore! But, hallo there! we shall get foul of the gunboats,—already we 've run in too close. Down helm, my lad; keep the headland yonder on your lee.”
As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped freely over the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away from the bright scene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole, save the swell of the brass bands as it floated on the breeze, and I might have believed it a mere delusion.
“They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well,” said the skipper, “sometimes at daybreak, now at noonday, and again, as we see, at sunset; and no one knows at what moment the attack that seems a feint may not turn out to be real. But here we are now alongside; our voyage is ended.”