Note 8 — Chapter II

"There is nothing so dull as mere fact, you'll admit, While you read my detail, unenlivened by wit. My friends will believe, though they're told it in rhyme, That I thought to return in a far shorter time. When at once we're resolv'd, by half past on the move, And by two, but a trio, we reach Mutton Cove; When approaching the quay, such a rabble and rout, That we ask, 'My good friend, what is all this about?' 'They are rowing a race, and some boats are come in, While these people are waiting till t'others begin.' Well aware of our folly, with risible lip, The boatman we told to make haste to the ship; On the colours of fish,[8] here by hampers-full landing, We gaze for amuzement, while still we're kept standing; At length to the Admiral's stairs we have got, See his party on board, and hear tunes from his yacht. The day is delightful, the gale just enough For the sea to look lively, without being rough. With those first at the ship, our sight costs the dearer, As we've longer to wait, and not in the end, nearer; For by land, and by water, so different the case is, 'Twas long before we were jam'd into our places; But on further advice, we'll at present be dumb, For half the spectators, you know, are now come. In one boat, a bevy, all sarcenet and veil, In the next some good fellows are toping their ale. 'Avast! here's the gun boat.' 'Aye, here it come smack.' And the ladies cry, 'Captain, they'll drive us all back.' Then some bully our men, with 'Skull out there, skull out.' And others check these with, 'Mind what you're about.' Here's a crazy old boat, laded dry with a shoe, There, a gay painted barge is forced on our view; In this, while Don Solus is jeered by the mob, 'See that empty boat, turn it out.' 'Here's a fine job.' Cries one, of some dozens squeezed into the next, 'I've left the pork pie, Oh dear, I'm so vex'd.' In the long boat, that shows a profusion of oar, From the Captain bursts forth a most terrible roar At his men; but the anger about whom, or what, Though they may remember, we soon had forgot. Here, infants were crying, mothers scolding outright, While the next party laughs at some comical sight. Now, watches and spy-glasses make their appearance, And Impatience, that vixen, begins interference; To beguile her, through portholes we eagerly stare, For the nobles on deck are all taking the air. 'Hey-dey, what a bustle!' then 'All safe, all safe.' The crowd is return'd to its chatter and laugh. 'Pray, what was the matter?' 'From the boat, near the ship, A woman fell over, and so got a dip.' But a hum of applause, yes, his triumph is full, Yet this hum of applause has betrayed our John Bull, 'What hum of applause? come, I prithee, be brief.' Why, John was delighted to see them ship beef. With a smile 'tis observed by the Briton polite, How the glee of the crowd was improv'd, by the sight, For the rough, honest tar, had declared from his heart, That he thought this a sight that would beat Bonaparte. Some, again, with composure, predict peace and war, Others look at the great folks, and fancy a star; But we, much fatigued, six o'clock now approaching, And on our good nature we thought them encroaching, When boats are made bridges, nay, tempted to think That through some of these freedoms, not strange we should sink. But here I must mention, when all was most merry, As here is each size, from the long-boat to wherry, When the crowd should disperse, I was fearful, I own, Lest your small boats, by barges, should then be run down. But a truce with our hopes, our predictions and fears, For now, yes, at last, our grand object appears; And now, every eye to the ship is directed, Though to see Bonaparte, I no longer expected; For between us what number of men! and aghast We stood, as still thicker and thicker the mast. [? mass] But now see Napoleon, who seems in his figure, What we call mediocre, nor smaller, nor bigger; For, in spite of our fears, how it was, I can't tell, What our distance allowed of, we saw very well. But, in this we're full right, for now, hurry scurry, Boat rows against boat, with the madness of fury; The show was all over, but time was out staid By some, and by others, attempts were still made To get round the ship, in hopes Bonaparte might At some place yet be seen, thus to perfect their sight."