My few hours of freedom and romance—for there was something of romance in Aurora possessing my fortune, and I only her handkerchief—were now at an end, and again I was simply Basil Gauntlet the private dragoon.
CHAPTER XV.
SAIL FOR FRANCE.
By the last day of May, all the troops destined for the hostile expedition were embarked on board of the ships of war and transports. In all there were thirteen thousand fighting men, with sixty pieces of cannon, and fifty mortars.
The embarkation of our horses was an object of peculiar care, and General Elliot, with Captain Lindsay, of ours, superintended this duty in person—for on the manner in which it is performed, depends all the chance of cavalry being employed with success in the field after landing.
They were conveyed on board the various ships, after a short march of exercise, and when perfectly cool. On the first night after embarkation, each received a mash mixed with some nitre, and bran was supplied to every trooper, as the chief portion of his horse's daily ration.
Every day each dragoon had to wash with care the hoofs and fetlocks of his horse, and to sponge its face, eyes and nostrils with cold water. We had ample wind sails rigged up for air, and spare slings and bands all ready in case of illness or accident, but, fortunately, neither occurred among the nags of our troop at least.
At daybreak, on the first of June, a gun from the commodore gave the signal for sea; and in less than ten minutes every vessel had her anchor apeak or atrip, and her head sails filled, and soon after, with nine hearty cheers, the whole armament, consisting of twenty-four ships of war, and one hundred and forty transports, cutters and tenders, stood out into the channel, and a glorious sight they presented.
The Essex, a sixty-four gun-ship, commanded by our commodore, the Honourable Richard (afterwards Earl) Howe, led the van, and closely in her wake followed the Brilliant of thirty-six guns, commanded by Captain Hyde Parker, who was afterwards knighted for his services off the coast of America.
As the Essex bore across Sandown Bay, I have been told that the French deserter, Theophile Damien, assisted with his own hands to steer the ship, as if in token of the good service he meant to perform for us in future.