La Rochelle is a quiet little town at the bottom of a small bay, the mouth of which is almost closed up by two islands. There is a sleepy, peaceful air about the place—a sort of drowsy languor pervades everything and everybody about it, that tells of a town whose days of busy prosperity have long since passed by, and which is dragging out life, like some retired tradesman—too poor for splendour, but rich enough to be idle. A long avenue of lime-trees incloses the harbour; and here the merchants conduct their bargains, while their wives, seated beneath the shade, discuss the gossip of the place over their work. All is patriarchal and primitive as Holland itself; the very courtesies of life exhibiting that ponderous stateliness which insensibly reminds one of the land of dikes and broad breeches. It is the least ‘French’ of any town I have ever seen in France; none of that light merriment, that gay volatility of voice and air which form the usual atmosphere of a French town. All is still, orderly, and sombre; and yet on the night in which—something more than fifty years back—I first entered it, a very different scene was presented to my eyes.

It was about ten o’clock, and by a moon nearly full, the diligence rattled along the covered ways of the old fortress, and crossing many a moat and drawbridge, the scenes of a once glorious struggle, entered the narrow streets, traversed a wide place, and drew up within the ample portals of ‘La Poste.’

Before I could remove the wide capote which I wore, the waiter ushered me into a large salon where a party of about forty persons were seated at supper. With a few exceptions they were all military officers, and sous-officiers of the expedition, whose noisy gaiety and boisterous mirth sufficiently attested that the entertainment had begun a considerable time before.

A profusion of bottles, some empty, others in the way to become so, covered the table, amidst which lay the fragments of a common table-d’hÔte supper—large dishes of cigars and basins of tobacco figuring beside the omelettes and the salad.

The noise, the heat, the smoke, and the confusion—the clinking of glasses, the singing, and the speech-making, made a scene of such turmoil and uproar, that I would gladly have retired to some quieter atmosphere, when suddenly an accidental glimpse of my uniform caught some eyes among the revellers, and a shout was raised of ‘Holloa, comrades! here’s one of the “Guides” among us.’ And at once the whole assembly rose up to greet me. For full ten minutes I had to submit to a series of salutations, which led to every form, from hand-shaking and embracing to kissing; while, perfectly unconscious of any cause for my popularity, I went through the ceremonies like one in a dream.

‘Where’s Kilmaine?’ ‘What of Hardy?’ ‘Is Grouchy coming?’ ‘Can the Brest fleet sail?’ ‘How many line-of-battle ships have they?’ ‘What’s the artillery force?’ ‘Have you brought any money?’ This last question, the most frequent of all, was suddenly poured in upon me, and with a fortunate degree of rapidity, that I had no time for a reply, had I even the means of making one.

‘Let the lad have a seat and a glass of wine before he submits to this interrogatory,’ said a fine, jolly-looking old chef d’escadron at the head of the table, while he made a place for me at his side. ‘Now tell us, boy, what number of the “Guides” are to be of our party?’

I looked a little blank at the question, for in truth I had not heard of the corps before, nor was I aware that it was their uniform I was then wearing.

‘Come, come, be frank with us, lad,’ said he; ‘we are all comrades here. Confound secrecy, say I.’

‘Ay, ay,’ cried the whole assembly together—‘confound secrecy. We are not bandits nor highwaymen; we have no need of concealment.’

‘I’ll be as frank as you can wish, comrades,’ said I; ‘and if I lose some importance in your eyes by owning that I am not the master of a single state secret, I prefer to tell you so, to attempting any unworthy disguise. I come here, by orders from General Kilmaine, to join your expedition; and except this letter for General Humbert, I have no claim to any consideration whatever.’

The old chef took the letter from my hands and examined the seal and superscription carefully, and then passed the document down the table for the satisfaction of the rest.

While I continued to watch with anxious eyes the letter on which so much of my own fate depended, a low whispering conversation went on at my side, at the end of which the chef said—

‘It’s more than likely, lad, that your regiment is not coming; but our general is not to be balked for that. Go he will; and let the Government look to themselves if he is not supported. At all events you had better see General Humbert at once; there’s no saying what that despatch may contain. Santerre, conduct him upstairs.’

A smart young fellow arose at the bidding, and beckoned me to follow him.

It was not without difficulty that we forced our way upstairs, down which porters, and sailors, and soldiers were now carrying a number of heavy trunks and packing-cases. At last we gained an anteroom, where confusion seemed at its highest, crowded as it was by soldiers, the greater number of them intoxicated, and all in a state of riotous and insolent insubordination. Amongst these were a number of the townspeople, eager to prefer complaints for outrage and robbery, but whose subdued voices were drowned amid the clamour of their oppressors. Meanwhile, clerks were writing away receipts for stolen and pillaged articles, and which, signed with the name of the general, were grasped at with eager avidity. Even personal injuries were requited in the same cheap fashion, orders on the national treasury being freely issued for damaged noses and smashed heads, and gratefully received by the confiding populace.

‘If the wind draws a little more to the southward before morning, we’ll pay our debts with the topsail sheet, and it will be somewhat shorter, and to the full as honest,’ said a man in a naval uniform.

‘Where’s the officer of the “Regiment des Guides?”’ cried a soldier from the door at the farther end of the room; and before I had time to think over the designation of rank given me, I was hurried into the general’s presence.

General Humbert, whose age might have been thirty-eight or forty, was a tall, well-built, but somewhat over-corpulent man; his features frank and manly, but with a dash of coarseness in their expression, particularly about the mouth; a sabre-cut, which had divided the upper lip, and whose cicatrix was then seen through his moustache, heightening the effect of his sinister look; his carriage was singularly erect and soldierlike, but all his gestures betrayed the habits of one who had risen from the ranks, and was not unwilling to revive the recollection.

He was parading the room from end to end when I entered, stopping occasionally to look out from an open window upon the bay, where by the clear moonlight might be seen the ships of the fleet at anchor. Two officers of his staff were writing busily at a table, whence the materials of a supper had not yet been removed. They did not look up as I came forward, nor did he notice me in any way for several minutes. Suddenly he turned towards me, and snatching the letter I held in my hand, proceeded to read it. A burst of coarse laughter broke from him as he perused the lines; and then throwing down the paper on the table, he cried out—

‘So much for Kilmaine’s contingent. I asked for a company of engineers and a squadron of “Guides,” and they send me a boy from the cavalry-school of Saumur. I tell them that I want some fellows conversant with the language and the people, able to treat with the peasantry, and acquainted with their habits, and here I have got a raw youth whose highest acquirement in all likelihood is to daub a map with water-colours, or take fortifications with a pair of compasses! I wish I had some of these learned gentlemen in the trenches for a few hours. Parbleu! I think I could teach them something they don’t learn from Citizen Carnot.—Well, sir,’ said he, turning abruptly towards me, ‘how many squadrons of the “Guides” are completed?’

‘I cannot tell, general,’ was my timid answer.

‘Where are they stationed?’

‘Of that also I am ignorant, sir.’

‘Peste!’ cried he, stamping his foot passionately; then suddenly checking his anger, he asked, ‘How many are coming to join this expedition? Is there a regiment, a division, a troop? Can you tell me with certainty that a sergeant’s guard is on the way hither?’

‘I cannot, sir; I know nothing whatever about the regiment in question.’

‘You have never seen it?’ cried he vehemently.

‘Never, sir.’

‘This exceeds all belief,’ exclaimed he, with a crash of his closed fist upon the table. ‘Three weeks letter-writing! Estafettes, orderlies, and special couriers to no end! And here we have an unfledged cur from a cavalry institute, when I asked for a strong reinforcement. Then what brought you here, boy?’

‘To join your expedition, general.’

‘Have they told you it was a holiday-party that we had planned? Did they say it was a junketing we were bent upon?’

‘If they had, sir, I would not have come.’

‘The greater fool you, then, that’s all,’ cried he, laughing; ‘when I was your age I’d not have hesitated twice between a merry-making and a bayonet charge.’

While he was thus speaking, he never ceased to sign his name to every paper placed before him by one or other of the secretaries.

‘No, parbleu! he went on, ‘La maÎtresse before the mitraille any day for me. But what’s all this, Girard? Here I’m issuing orders upon the national treasury for hundreds of thousands without let or compunction.’

The aide-de-camp whispered a word or two in a low tone.

‘I know it, lad; I know it well,’ said the general, laughing heartily; ‘I only pray that all our requisitions may be as easily obtained in future.—Well, Monsieur le Guide, what are we to do with you?’

‘Not refuse me, I hope, general,’ said I diffidently.

‘Not refuse you, certainly; but in what capacity to take you, lad, that’s the question. If you had served—if you had even walked a campaign——’

‘So I have, general—this will show you where I have been’; and I handed him the livret which every soldier carries of his conduct and career.

He took the book, and casting his eyes hastily over it, exclaimed—

‘Why, what’s this, lad? You’ve been at Kehl, at Emmendingen, at Rorschach, at Huningen, through all that Black Forest affair with Moreau! You have seen smoke, then. Ay! I see honourable mention of you besides, for readiness in the field and zeal during action. What! more brandy, Girard. Why, our Irish friends must have been exceedingly thirsty. I’ve given them credit for something like ten thousand “velts” already! No matter, the poor fellows may have to put up with short rations for all this yet—and there goes my signature once more. What does that blue light mean, Girard?’ said he, pointing to a bright blue star that shone from a mast of one of the ships of war.

‘That is the signal, general, that the embarkation of the artillery is complete.’

‘Parbleu!’ said he with a laugh, ‘it need not have taken long; they’ve given in two batteries of eights, and one of them has not a gun fit for service. There goes a rocket, now. Isn’t that a signal to heave short on the anchors? Yes, to be sure. And now it is answered by the other! Ha! lads, this does look like business at last!’

The door opened as he spoke, and a naval officer entered.

‘The wind is drawing round to the south, general; we can weigh with the ebb if you wish it.’

‘Wish it!—if I wish it! Yes, with my whole heart and soul I do! I am just as sick of La Rochelle as is La Rochelle of me. The salute that announces our departure will be a feu de joie to both of us! Ay, sir, tell your captain that I need no further notice than that he is ready. Girard, see to it that the marauders are sent on board in irons. The fellows must learn at once that discipline begins when we trip our anchors. As for you,’ said he, turning to me, ‘you shall act upon my staff with provisional rank as sous-lieutenant: time will show if the grade should be confirmed. And now hasten down to the quay, and put yourself under Colonel Serasin’s orders.’

Colonel Serasin, the second in command, was, in many respects, the very opposite of Humbert Sharp, petulant, and irascible, he seemed quite to overlook the fact, that, in an expedition which was little better than a foray, there must necessarily be a great relaxation of the rules of discipline, and many irregularities at least winked at, which, in stricter seasons, would call for punishment. The consequence was, that a large proportion of our force went on board under arrest, and many actually in irons. The Irish were, without a single exception, all drunk; and the English soldiers, who had procured their liberation from imprisonment on condition of joining the expedition, had made sufficiently free with the brandy-bottle, to forget their new alliance, and vent their hatred of France and Frenchmen in expressions whose only alleviation was, that they were nearly unintelligible.

Such a scene of uproar, discord, and insubordination never was seen. The relative conditions of guard and prisoner elicited national animosities that were scarcely even dormant, and many a bloody encounter took place between those whose instinct was too powerful to feel themselves anything but enemies. A cry, too, was raised, that it was meant to betray the whole expedition to the English, whose fleet, it was asserted, had been seen off Oleron that morning; and although there was not even the shadow of a foundation for the belief, it served to increase the alarm and confusion. Whether originating or not with the Irish, I cannot say, but certainly they took advantage of it to avoid embarking; and now began a schism which threatened to wreck the whole expedition, even in the harbour.

The Irish, as indifferent to the call of discipline as they were ignorant of French, refused to obey orders save from officers of their own country; and although Serasin ordered two companies to ‘load with ball and fire low,’ the similar note for preparation from the insurgents induced him to rescind the command and try a compromise.

In this crisis I was sent by Serasin to fetch what was called the ‘Committee,’ the three Irish deputies who accompanied the force. They had already gone aboard of the Dedalus, little foreseeing the difficulties that were to arise on shore.

Seated in a small cabin next the wardroom, I found these three gentlemen, whose names were Tone, Teel-ing, and Sullivan. Their attitudes were gloomy and despondent, and their looks anything but encouraging as I entered. A paper on which a few words had been scrawled, and signed with their three names underneath, lay before them, and on this their eyes were bent with a sad and deep meaning. I knew not then what it meant, but I afterwards learned that it was a compact formally entered into and drawn up, that if, by the chance of war, they should fall into the enemy’s hands, they would anticipate their fate by suicide, but leave to the English Government all the ignominy and disgrace of their death.

They seemed scarcely to notice me as I came forward, and even when I delivered my message they heard it with a half indifference.

‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ said Teeling, the eldest of the party. ‘We hold no command in the service. It was against our advice and counsel that you accepted these volunteers at all We have no influence over them.’

‘Not the slightest,’ broke in Tone. ‘These fellows are bad soldiers and worse Irishmen. The expedition will do better without them.’

‘And they better without the expedition,’ muttered Sullivan dryly.

‘But you will come, gentlemen, and speak to them,’ said I. ‘You can at least assure them that their suspicions are unfounded.’

‘Very true, sir,’ replied Sullivan, ‘we can do so, but with what success? No, no. If you can’t maintain discipline here on your own soil, you’ll make a bad hand of doing it when you have your foot on Irish ground.

And, after all, I for one am not surprised at the report gaining credence.’

‘How so, sir?’ asked I indignantly.

‘Simply that when a promise of fifteen thousand men dwindles down to a force of eight hundred; when a hundred thousand stand of arms come to be represented by a couple of thousand; when an expedition, pledged by a Government, has fallen down to a marauding party; when Hoche or KlÉber—— But never mind, I always swore that if you sent but a corporal’s guard that I ‘d go with them.’

A musket-shot here was heard, followed by a sharp volley and a cheer, and, in an agony of anxiety, I rushed to the deck. Although above half a mile from the shore, we could see the movement of troops hither and thither, and hear the loud words of command. Whatever the struggle, it was over in a moment, and now we saw the troops descending the steps to the boats. With an inconceivable speed the men fell into their places, and, urged on by the long sweeps, the heavy launches swept across the calm water of the bay.

If a cautious reserve prevented any open questioning as to the late affray, the second boat which came alongside revealed some of its terrible consequences. Seven wounded soldiers were assisted up the side by their comrades, and in total silence conveyed to their station between decks.

‘A bad augury this!’ muttered Sullivan, as his eye followed them. ‘They might as well have left that work for the English!’

A swift six-oar boat, with the tricolour flag floating from a flagstaff at her stern, now skimmed along towards us, and as she came nearer we could recognise the uniforms of the officers of Humbert’s staff, while the burly figure of the general himself was soon distinguishable in the midst of them.

As he stepped up the ladder, not a trace of displeasure could be seen on his broad bold features. Greeting the assembled officers with a smile, he asked how the wind was.

‘All fair, and freshening at every moment,’ was the answer.

‘May it continue!’ cried he fervently. ‘Welcome a hurricane, if it only waft us westward!’

The foresail filled out as he spoke, the heavy ship heaved over to the wind, and we began our voyage.