Nothing else of any particular note occurred on our voyage, and having arrived near Portsmouth a signal was raised, and we fell in on the quarantine ground, hoisting a yellow flag for a doctor to inspect us on board. When he came he found all on board our ship to be in very good condition, which was reported to the general, and the very next morning he signalled to us to weigh anchor and proceed to Flanders; so without setting foot on English ground we again went on our way to meet our common enemy. This time, however, he was not in his old quarters, but in the north of France, where he had collected more than a hundred thousand troops.
I left Portsmouth this time with a good deal lighter heart than I had last, being now more used to war and hardships than to peace and plenty, though perhaps I would rather have landed than proceed on this errand; and, indeed, there were many of us who had left wife and children at home who went off with a very sad heart.
Our voyage this time was a very short one, only occupying one day; and early on the following morning we arrived in sight of Flanders and there brought up at anchor. Very shortly some small vessels came alongside to convey us to the quay at Ostend, where we landed, and after marching about half a mile we came to a canal, where we embarked in large open barges, in which we were towed by horses past Bruges, about twelve miles off Ostend, to Ghent, which at a wide guess might be twice the same distance further. We landed at Ghent and lay there about nine days, while Louis XVIII. was staying in the town, he having been obliged to flee from Paris by that old disturber after a short reign of about ten months.
At the end of the nine days the drums beat at midnight, and we arrayed ourselves in marching order as quickly as possible. The landlord of the house where I was staying had got up, and would kindly insist on filling our canteens—that is a capacity of about three pints—with gin, giving us as well some bread and meat each, and warning us to look out, for he knew the French were coming. All having assembled at the rendezvous, orders were given to march on to Brussels immediately. I could not exactly say what the distance was, but it was probably not less than forty miles, taking us two days of hard marching to accomplish it.
CHAPTER XXII.
Waterloo — Dreadful night before the battle — Opening of the battle — Unpleasant contiguity with a shell — A recruit taken suddenly and conveniently ill — The regiment in the thick of it — Rout of Napoleon's Bodyguards — Repeated charges of the French infantry and cavalry successfully repulsed — Lawrence in charge of the colours — Death of his captain — Gallant stand of the British until the arrival of the Prussians — Lawrence on the tactics of the enemy — The French finally driven off the field by Blucher's army — Bivouac on the enemy's ground — Fatal results of trifling with a powder-wagon — Lawrence's supper in danger — He invites a guest to supper, who, however, takes French leave — On the march again.
On the 17th of June, 1815, we marched through Brussels, amid the joy of the inhabitants, who brought us out all manner of refreshments. I heard some remarks from them to the effect that we were all going to be slaughtered like bullocks, but we only laughed at this, telling them that that was nothing new to us. Some of the younger recruits, however, were terribly downcast and frightened at the idea of fighting, but I have often found that it is these most timid ones who when they come to an actual battle rush forward and get killed first; probably owing to the confused state they are in, while the more disciplined soldiers know better what course to pursue.
From Brussels we marched to about five or six miles out of the town, not far from the village of Waterloo, when our commander sent his aide-de-camp to Lord Wellington for general orders how he was to act, or as to what part of the line we were to fall in at. The orders returned were that we were to stay in our present position till next morning, so that night we crept into any hole we could find, cowsheds, cart-houses, and all kinds of farmstead buildings, for shelter, and I never remember a worse night in all the Peninsular war, for the rain descended in torrents, mixed with fearful thunder and lightning, and seeming to foretell the fate of the following morning, the 18th, which again happened to be Sunday.
The allied army had on the 16th and 17th been attacked by Napoleon's large forces at Ligny and Quatre Bras, but neither side had obtained any great success, beyond thousands being killed on both sides; during the night of the 17th, therefore, firing was continually going on, which I could distinctly hear, in spite of its being considerably drowned by the thunder. All that night was one continued clamour, for thousands of camp-followers were on their retreat to Brussels, fearful of sticking to the army after the Quatre Bras affair. It was indeed a sight, for owing to the rain and continued traffic the roads were almost impassable, and the people were sometimes completely stuck in the mud: and besides these a continual stream of baggage-wagons was kept up through the night.
Early in the morning of the 18th we were again put on the march to join our lines, our position being in the reserve, which included the Fourth and Twenty-Seventh Regiments, together with a body of Brunswickers and Dutch, and formed a line between Merk Braine and Mont St. Jean on the Brussels road. Our regiment took the left of this road, but did not remain there long, for the French were seen in motion, and on their opening fire from their cannon we soon marched up to action in open column.