—­[Here Bourrienne says in a note “Where did Sir Walter Scott learn that we were neither seen nor recognised?  We were not recognised, but certainly seen,” This is corroborated by the testimony of the Due de Rovigo, who, in his Memoirs, says, “I have met officers of the English navy who assured me that the two frigates had been seen but were considered by the Admiral to belong to his squadron, as they steered their course towards him; and as he knew we had only one frigate in the Mediterranean, and one in Toulon harbour, he was far from supposing that the frigates which he had descried could have General Bonaparte on board.” (Savary, tome i. p. 226).]—­

During the remainder of the night the utmost agitation prevailed on board the Muiron.  Gantheaume especially was in a state of anxiety which it is impossible to describe, and which it was painful to witness:  he was quite beside himself, for a disaster appeared inevitable.  He proposed to return to Corsica.  “No, no!” replied Bonaparte imperiously.  “No!  Spread all sail!  Every man at his post!  To the north-west!  To the north-west!” This order saved us; and I am enabled to affirm that in the midst of almost general alarm Bonaparte was solely occupied in giving orders.  The rapidity of his judgment seemed to grow in the face of danger.  The remembrance of that night will never be effaced from my mind.  The hours lingered on; and none of us could guess upon what new dangers the morrow’s sun would shine.

However, Bonaparte’s resolution was taken:  his orders were given, his arrangements made.  During the evening he had resolved upon throwing himself into the long boat; he had already fixed on the persons who were to share his fate, and had already named to me the papers which he thought it most important to save.  Happily our terrors were vain and our arrangements useless.  By the first rays of the sun we discovered the English fleet sailing to the north-east, and we stood for the wished-for coast of France.

The 8th of October, at eight in the morning, we entered the roads of Frejus.  The sailors not having recognised the coast during the night, we did not know where we were.  There was, at first, some hesitation whether we should advance.  We were by no means expected, and did not know how to answer the signals, which has been changed during our absence.  Some guns were even fired upon us by the batteries on the coast; but our bold entry into the roads, the crowd upon the decks of the two frigates, and our signs of joy, speedily banished all doubt of our being friends.  We were in the port, and approaching the landing-place, when the rumour spread that Bonaparte was on board one of the frigates.  In an instant the sea was covered with boats.  In vain we begged them to keep at a distance; we were carried ashore, and when we told the crowd, both of men and women who were pressing about us, the risk they ran, they all exclaimed, “We prefer the plague to the Austrians!”