The damage done to the town was not very considerable; there were, however, some lamentable proofs of the power of shot and shell left upon the walls, windows, and roofs of the houses. Few people had remained in the town on our approach, therefore few if any of the inhabitants' lives were lost, and only a very few of the French were either killed or wounded. They sunk one of our best and most destructive gun boats by a shot from the batteries, but otherwise they did very little injury to our naval force.
The main body of the army immediately advanced on Middleburg, the capital of the island, about four miles from Campveer; but although this city is fortified, it could not be held by the enemy, in consequence of the impossibility of their gaining supplies from Flushing, which was at the other extremity of the island, and opened upon the broad Scheldt. The latter was therefore considered a more secure and tenable fortification. For this reason, the French forces moved on from Middleburg, along the high road, closely pursued by our troops, but fighting every yard of the way, taking special care never to wait for the points of our lads' bayonets, which were within a very critical distance of their rear. The French, in thus retreating, would run for about two hundred yards; then rapidly rally and deliberately wait until the “crabs,” as they called us, were close enough; then would they give us a volley—not, however, without our hearty return of the compliment; when they would immediately scamper off through open files of their own men, who were ready to form up and pour in their shot, while the others were in turn retreating, forming, and loading. This plan was very effectual; for the French in the pursuit lost scarcely any men, while we had a church and a large house full of wounded, besides several killed. In this way were the enemy followed up and driven into the very gates of Flushing: and such was the panic which seized the garrison of that town, that the 14th and the 82nd regiments, it is supposed, had they attempted it, would have carried the place by assault. They drove their bayonets against the walls of the fortress, yet retired without the loss of a single man, although close under the range of the heavy guns from the ramparts.
The whole of the troops landed in the island of Walcheren, amounting to about eighteen thousand men, all infantry (for no part of the cavalry was yet disembarked), now invested Flushing, leaving a small garrison at Middleburg and Campveer; and preparations were immediately commenced for the siege. A finer, a healthier, and a more gallant army than our's never took the field; and it is only to be regretted that it was not employed upon a service where it could have been more advantageous to its country. The other portion of the forces, about 20,000 men under the command of Sir John Hope, were landed on South Beveland, from which place they were sent back to England, without accomplishing any thing—or rather, without having had any thing to accomplish, for the enemy retreated on their approach, and left them in possession of the island.
Our lines before Flushing were about half a mile from the walls, extending back about another quarter of a mile, and all within the imaginary semicircle which may be traced from the two sides of the town, drawing the line by West Zuburg, a neat little village nearly a mile from Flushing.
Our centre was commanded by Generals Houston and Stewart; our right by General Graham, under whom were acting General Auckland and General Leith; our left by Generals Picton and Rottenburg, the latter of whom, however, was appointed to the more easy duty of officiating as military commandant of Middleburg: his infirm state of health and advanced age rendered this a very proper arrangement.
Sir Eyre Coote, our second in command, took up his station at West Zuburg, close to the lines, and Lord Chatham remained at Middleburg. The Marquis of Anglesea, then Lord Paget, finding that ship-board was no field for a General of Cavalry, took up his quarters at West Zuburg, in a merchant's country-house, as a mere visitor of the operating army. There was a sort of irregular or guerilla force attached to the besieging army, consisting of about 500 jolly Jack-tars, under the command of Lord A. Beauclerk, formed by detachments from each man-of-war employed in the service; and these were by no means “fish out of water,” for they assisted mainly in dragging up the heavy artillery, as well as in skirmishing in front of our lines.
The country which our army occupied was extremely bushy and luxuriant, though without tall trees, and quite flat; it was interspersed with numerous beautiful gardens, meadows, &c.; and in the height of a very fine summer, as this was, none could wander through it undelighted. As no distant views could possibly occur in such walks, the eye was constantly receiving an interesting change of objects,—now a beautifully displayed garden, where fruit and flowers were profusely growing; a step or two brought the wanderer to a green alley, adorned with classical statues, and intersected with walks bordered by flowers, and perhaps, on turning into one of them, a fish-pond became visible, overshadowed by willows and cypress, and surrounded with dwarf trees and heavy foliage; in the centre, an artificial cascade, and moored at the side, a little boat, beautifully rigged. On leaving this, perhaps a meadow presented itself, with a ripening crop of grass hedged closely round—perhaps trodden down by our soldiers, who were bivouacking there, or in the adjoining field—then a brushwood, and then again a dyke, overhung by long rushes and grass. These objects, in varied succession, covered the greater part of the land about West Zuburg and the road to and from thence to Flushing. In this part I was quartered, and I have walked for hours, without finding a spot that would form an exception to the above description. It was the happiest time of my life—young as I was, (little more than nineteen,) with a mind as elastic as the air, and romantic to enthusiasm; placed for the first time in my life in the centre of the field destined for the fight, and that field so beautiful by nature and by art—so covered by foliage and green swards, and so diversified by the bivouack and the battery; the guns from the besieged town every minute or two shaking the atmosphere, and the rifles of the skirmishers in irregular reports, startling the ear—these, with a consciousness that I was a part of the machine of war, gave an interest to every thing around me which I had never felt before, and which I cannot now recall without delight.
The first day we appeared before Flushing, and the following we were entirely employed in guarding against surprise; we were constantly under arms, and could only regale ourselves with what we chanced to have brought with us. However, rations were soon delivered out to us, and with the help of sods and green bushes, grass, &c. we constructed huts, which, with an old barn, helped us to make ourselves feel quite “at home.” This was on the 1st and 2nd of August, from which time, until the bombardment commenced (the 13th), we had little to do but to work at the batteries and trenches; and to let ourselves be shot at and shelled at by the town; with the exception, indeed, of one evening's sharp work, when the garrison made a sortie upon us. This, while it lasted, was a tough contest, and although at least 20,000 men sallied out from the town, as much intent on mischief as men well could be, they were forced to retire in double-quick time, after about an hour's hard work, with nothing but their labour and their loss for their pains. It was, I think, on the 6th of August, that the sortie was made, and from the gate which opened on the main road to Middleburg. A few of my brother officers and I had been smoking cigars, and moistening our lips with a little Hollands and water, in an almost roofless cottage, and, I recollect, we were talking of the very fortunate escape which one of our officers, then present, had had about three hours before, from a shell which had fallen scarcely a foot from him, and laughing at the manner in which he had run away from the ignited globe of destruction, when we heard a volley of musketry apparently not more than a quarter of a mile away, and in a moment the orderly sergeant brought us instructions to “turn out” forthwith. The regiment was under arms and upon the main road in a few minutes, when we perceived a body of our troops falling back, while the French were yelling as if in triumph, their voices only drowned by the loud discharges of musketry from both sides. It was almost dark, but the twilight was sufficient for us to discover a little disorder in the regiment before us. Our lads muttered to each other as they advanced at a rapid pace, “Oh! by J——s we'll soon stop yiz!”—“Wait 'till we come at you, you beggars!” &c. and such from every part of the ranks were not the most unpleasant sounds I ever heard,—my heart swelled with exultation when I heard the men, and witnessed their manly courage. “Steady, my lads—silence till you fire—wait, my lads—steady,” passed from the Colonel, as we pushed on, and in a few minutes the regiment before us opened. The grenadier company, stout and steady fellows, formed in line as quick as lightning, pouring a thundering volley into the column of the enemy which was approaching, and the word “Charge!” sent us off like rockets. Our line hurried on with a simultaneous shout, and every bayonet met its bloody sheath in a moment. We were supported by the remainder of the regiment, and for several minutes were mixed together, both French and English, tugging at each other fiercely. Our fellows absolutely turned their muskets, and butted and smashed them down, as if dissatisfied with the more silent, but more effective execution of the bayonet. The scene was one of complete confusion; many of our own men were wounded by their comrades' balls from behind, as the surgeon afterwards declared, on comparing them, as they were extracted—he distinguished the British bullets by their greater size in relation to those of the French. The enemy, encouraged by their officers, rallied and fired several times boldly, but were again and again repulsed. The 51st and the 95th on our side attacked from a field, and assisted mainly in deciding the affair. The firing by degrees became less and less, and when our troops had completely chased the French back to their strong hold, they were ordered to return. So ended the sortie of the 6th of August.
In returning to our huts we overtook, amongst several of the wounded, Lieutenant R——, of our's, my most intimate friend and companion; he was carried by four of our men, and was on his way to the hospital at West Zuburg. His altered voice, when he called to me, foreboded melancholy consequences. He had been shot in the side by one of the last bullets that the enemy discharged, after having done his duty gallantly, and was in the act of giving them a farewell shout and a farewell volley. As soon as the regiment halted, he was surrounded by his brother officers, and the Colonel particularly attended to him. My friend begged that I might be allowed to accompany him to the hospital, and remain with him during the night, which was readily permitted, and, with a sad farewell from all his brother officers, he was borne along in a blanket. I walked beside him, administering every attention in my power; and in about ten minutes we arrived at the church of West Zuburg, which was appropriated for the field-hospital. My friend was laid down upon some hay, shaken together upon a tombstone in the church. His side was immediately examined by the medical officers on duty, and he was bled; after which his wound was dressed, and a sheet was thrown over him; for, as the weather was very hot, the surgeon would not allow more covering. He did not appear to be in much pain, but felt very much exhausted, and, with his hand holding mine, he fell into a slumber. I sat beside him all the night, wetting his lips whenever he awoke, which, however, was not very often, with what had been delivered to me by the surgeon;—and such a night!—there scarcely passed an interval of five minutes between the arrival of one unfortunate fellow or another, who had been wounded in the sortie; and three surgeons were employed constantly from twelve o'clock until five in dressing their wounds. Brave fellows! had those who at home are inclined to look contemptuously on the soldier—had they but passed that night in that church, how differently would they feel towards the men whose sufferings so well entitle them to sympathy!
In the morning the hospital was crowded with the wounded; the whole of the floor—pews, and all, filled with groaning sufferers, principally shot in the legs, and not a single bayonet-wound amongst them; which showed that in the contest the enemy kept at full musket's length from them, except when they could not help it; and no doubt their hospital proved on the same morning that they pretty often were obliged to be within a shorter distance of the British soldiers.