One evening, however, when a favorable wind was blowing, I heard two sailors conversing together on the wharf, and making conjectures as to the future.  “The Emperor would do well to start tomorrow morning,” said one; “he will never have better weather, and there will surely be a fog.”  —­“Bah!” said the other, “only he does not think so.  We have now waited more than fifteen days, and the fleet has not budged; however, all the ammunition is on board, and with one blast of the whistle we can put to sea.”

The night sentinels came on, and the conversation of the old sea-wolves stopped there; but I soon had to acknowledge that their nautical experience had not deceived them.  In fact, by three o’clock in the morning, a light fog was spread over the sea, which was somewhat stormy, the wind of the evening before began to, blow again, and at daylight the fog was so thick as to conceal the fleet from the English, while the most profound silence reigned everywhere.  No hostile sails had been signaled through the night, and, as the sailors had predicted, everything favored the descent.

At five o’clock in the morning, signals were made from the semaphore; and in the twinkling of an eye all the sailors were in motion, and the port resounded with cries of joy, for the order to depart had just been received.  While the sails were being hoisted, the long roll was beaten in the four camps, and the order was given for the entire army to take arms; and they marched rapidly into the town, hardly believing what they had just heard.  “We are really going to start,” said all the soldiers; “we are actually going to say a few words to those Englishmen,” and the joy which animated them burst forth in acclamations, which were silenced by a roll of the drums.  The embarkation then took place amid profound silence, and in such perfect order that I can hardly give an idea of it.  At seven o’clock two hundred thousand soldiers were on board the fleet; and when a little after midday this fine army was on the point of starting amidst the adieus and good wishes of the whole city, assembled upon the walls and upon the surrounding cliffs, and at the very moment when all the soldiers standing with uncovered heads were about to bid farewell to the soil of France, crying, “Vive l’Empereur!” a message arrived from the imperial barrack, ordering the troops to disembark, and return to camp.  A telegraphic dispatch just then received by his Majesty had made it necessary that he should move his troops in another direction; and the soldiers returned sadly to their quarters, some expressing in a loud tone, and in a very energetic manner, the disappointment which this species of mystification caused them.

They had always regarded the success of the enterprise against England as assured, and to find themselves stopped on the eve of departure was, in their eyes, the greatest misfortune which could happen to them.