Lieutenant General Sir Eyre Coote.
Commanding Artillery.
Major General M'Leod.
Chief Officer of Engineers.
General Terrot.
The naval part of the expedition consisted of from 300 to 400 vessels of all denominations, upwards of 100 of whom were ships of the line—frigates, sloops, and brigs of war, &c. The whole were placed under the command of Rear Admiral Sir Richard Strachan, who had Rear Admiral Sir R.G. Keates as his second, on this interesting and important occasion.
At day-break, on the 28th of July, all hands were piped on deck to assist at the capstone, and most cheerfully did every man, soldiers and sailors, join in the good old British cry of "Yeo—heave ho!" In less than an hour, a considerable portion of the fleet had unfurled their white sails to the wind, and were ploughing their way towards the Scheldt, their decks covered with thousands of warriors, chaunting, as they cast a long and lingering look behind—
"Ye beautuous maids your smiles bestow,
For if ye prove unkind,
How can we hope to beat the foe,
Who leave our hearts behind."
The vessels of war moved outside of the transports, and the gun-boats, with the assistance of some buoys, marked the route of the whole. The appearance of the fleet this morning, was even more magnificent than when it rode at anchor in the Downs. Nothing could move more beautifully than the largest class of our men-of-war, as they dashed through the foaming billows, leading the way to the scene of action. For some hours I paced the deck of our little brig, admiring with feelings of national pride, the noble—the unrivalled spectacle before me; and on my eyes being sufficiently feasted, I descended into our little crib, and there craved from the Giver of Victory, success in some degree commensurate with the magnitude of the armament.
On weighing anchor, the wind was favourable, and blowing what our nautical friends called a gentle breeze; but as we receded from the British shore, it freshened, and during the rest of the day blew hard. A few hours after leaving our anchorage, and when something like order was restored on deck, we retired into the cabin to partake of our morning repast. The servants, however, having neglected to lash the table to the cabin floor, we had not been seated many minutes, when one dire hitch of our little jade, tumbled every thing topsy-turvy. In an instant, away went seats and sitters, table, tea-pot, cups, bread, butter, and eggs, all towards one common centre—the portly person of our worthy quarter-master, a man nearly six feet four inches in height. The latter no sooner felt an inclination to slide backwards, than he, like a drowning man grasping at a straw, rather unluckily caught hold of the table, which being as ready for a piece of fun as his own seat, at once yielded to the impulse of the venerable hero, and most cheerfully accompanied him in his trip to the then lower part of the cabin. Failing in this attempt to preserve his position, our messmate had now no other alternative than to permit matters to take their course, so down went the head, and up flew the heels of the warrior, who in a moment lay weltering—not in his blood—but in tea, and nearly suffocated with the caresses of his friends, who in their journey to the same quarter of the cabin, found the veteran an obstacle not to be avoided.