Billy Ruffian

SIXTEEN Napoleon and the Bellerophon 1815

On 2 July 1815, two weeks after his defeat on the battlefield of Waterloo, Napoleon arrived at the port of Rochefort on the west coast of France. He had travelled in a carriage from Paris and for most of the journey he had avoided being recognised but when he arrived at Niort, the last stop before Rochefort, the news of his arrival rapidly spread around the town. The prefect insisted that he transfer from his lodgings in a local inn to the prefecture building, and the soldiers of the second regiment of hussars, who were billeted in the town, acclaimed him with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur.' A day of festivities followed, with a reception hosted by the prefect, bands playing martial music, and excited crowds gathering in the streets. Napoleon had wished to keep a low profile because he did not want to stir up civil war or to antagonise the provisional government in Paris. He had agreed to abdicate as emperor and had asked the provisional government to supply him with passports to the United States of America and the use of two frigates which were currently lying at anchor off Rochefort.

To avoid any further celebrations, he and his retinue of faithful followers and servants left Niort at 4 o'clock the next morning. A troop of hussars with drawn swords provided a regal escort as their carriages rattled along the lovely valley of the Charente river. They drove through fields scattered with elms and tamarisk trees, passed through the gateway in the city walls of Rochefort and at 8 am they drew up outside the imposing house of the maritime prefect, Captain Casimir de Bonnefoux. The prefect was no friend of Napoleon. He was a royalist, a Chevalier de St Louis (a title of the Ancien Régime), and had not hesitated to hoist the white flag of the Bourbons over the prefecture when Napoleon had been sent to Elba in 1814. He also bore a grudge because Napoleon had refused to confirm his rank as captain back in 1800 when he had asked to serve in the navy on condition that he did not go to sea. However he greeted Napoleon civilly enough and put the apartments of the prefecture at his disposal.

Having inspected the rooms, Napoleon called a meeting of his aides, together with the maritime prefect, and a number of naval officers who were stationed at Rochefort. He wanted their views on his next move. The sailors were discouraging and supported the opinion of Bonnefoux who had already warned Napoleon that the British blockade of the coast made it impossible for French ships to get away from Rochefort. Bonnefoux had sent a letter to Napoleon at Niort the day before in which he said, 'The roadsteads are almost entirely blocked by an English squadron. It seems to me that it would be extremely dangerous for our frigates and those on board to try and force a passage.' This was unduly pessimistic. The approaches to Rochefort were protected from the worst of the Atlantic storms by two large islands and several smaller islands. As a glance at a chart of the area clearly shows, the position of the large islands - the île de Ré and the île d'Oléron - created three entrances or channels to Basque Roads which was the anchorage where the French frigates and other vessels were lying. It was difficult, if not impossible, for one warship to keep an effective watch on all three approaches, particularly at night. During the previous month there had been three British ships in the vicinity but on the day that Napoleon arrived in Rochefort, and for the next three days, there was only one British warship on guard. This was the Bellerophon which was currently patrolling the seaward entrance of the middle channel.

The Bellerophon had set sail from Plymouth on 24 May with a squadron under the command of Rear-Admiral Sir Henry Hotham.

When they arrived off the coast of Brittany the various ships in the squadron had separated. Hotham, in the Superb, had taken up a position off Quiberon Bay; the other ships had been despatched to watch the entrances of the River Loire and River Gironde; and the Bellerophon, together with the frigates Myrmidon and Slaney, had been despatched to Rochefort. The orders given to Captain Frederick Maitland were to report back to Hotham on the number and condition of the French ships of war lying at Rochefort, and to prevent a corvette putting to sea which it was believed was carrying proposals from Napoleon for the West Indian colonies to declare in his favour. The Bellerophon sailed into Basque Roads on 31 May and Captain Maitland noted that there were four ships of war at anchor in the lee of the Ile d'Aix. There were two large frigates, the Meduse and the Saalee; there was the corvette Balladiere; and a large brig, the Épervier. All were ready for sea.

For nearly a month the Bellerophon kept watch and occasionally intercepted coastal vessels. For the crew it was a return to the familiar routine of blockade duty: the location was not as hazardous as the rock-strewn coast of Brittany, and the summer weather was infinitely preferable to the cold, wet misery of patrolling off Ushant during the winter months, but it was nevertheless monotonous work. Nothing of any note happened until 28 June when Maitland learnt from one of the vessels he had captured that Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo. Two days later a boat from Bordeaux came alongside and Maitland was handed a mysterious message. Written on thin paper and concealed inside a quill was a letter. It was not dated or signed and was evidently from a spy or an informer. The purpose of the letter was to warn the British that Napoleon was believed to have reached Bordeaux with the intention of fleeing the country, and 'to give the British Admiral advice of such intention, that he may instantly take the necessary steps in order to seize the man.' The letter went on to provide details of the numbers of troops stationed at Bordeaux and to recommend that a sharp eye be kept on all American vessels.

The information about Napoleon's whereabouts was updated a week later when Maitland received further orders from Admiral Hotham: 'Having this morning received information that it is believed Napoleon Bonaparte has taken his road from Paris for Rochefort, to embark from thence for the United States of America, I have to direct you will use your best endeavours to prevent him from making his escape in either of the frigates at Isle d'Aix . . .' The letter was dated 6 July, and on 7 July Hotham despatched another letter to Maitland telling him that the British Government had received an application from the rulers of France for a passport and safe conduct for Napoleon to go to America but the request had been turned down.

Napoleon seems to have been overcome by an uncharacteristic weariness and lassitude after Waterloo. He listened to the conflicting advice of those around him but delayed making decisions. Five days were wasted in Rochefort while he reorganised his household, and waited for passports and for the arrival of the rest of his furniture and the books from his library. Every day the royalist forces were drawing closer and the white flag of the Bourbons was being raised in towns and villages across France. He eventually agreed to be rowed out to the Ile d'Aix. 1 shall be close to the frigates there and in a position to embark whenever the winds are at all favourable to our getting away.'

The winds were not favourable on 8 July when he and his retinue left the prefecture and drove to the beach at Fouras where a crowd had gathered to watch the departure of the former emperor. As the heavily laden boats left the shelter of Fouras Point they encountered the full force of a strong breeze from the north-west which whipped up short steep waves and soaked the oarsmen and passengers with salt spray. For an hour and a half they rowed towards the distant Ile d'Aix but progress was so slow that Napoleon decided to head for the anchored frigates instead. At 7.30 pm he climbed up the side of the frigate Saale, followed by his aides. What he did not know was that he had already missed the best opportunity he would ever have of evading the British blockade and escaping to America. For three days (from 3 to 5 July) the Bellerophon had been the only British ship in the vicinity but on 6 July she had been joined by the frigates Myrmidon and Slaney and between them they were able to watch all the escape routes. Count Montholon later wrote, 'The reasons for our staying at Rochefort until the evening of July 8, when we embarked for the frigate Saale, were a mystery that I have never succeeded in fathoming, for I shall always refuse to believe that we remained five days at Rochefort merely to wait for packing cases and wagons . . .'

The following day the wind eased and Napoleon decided to pay a visit to the Ile d'Aix which he had last visited in 1808. Although barely a mile in length the island was a strongly fortified military settlement. Sheltered behind an encircling wall with ramparts and gun batteries was a small but attractive town with one main street dominated by the handsome façade of the commandant's house. The inhabitants of the island were fiercely patriotic and bitterly hated the British - with good reason. In 1809 a British fleet under Admiral Gambier had attacked a fleet of French warships anchored in Basque Roads by sending in fireships. Four of the French line of battle ships were destroyed and several other ships cut their cables and ran aground. By a curious accident of history Captain Maitland, then in command of a frigate, was present at the action as part of the advanced squadron led by Lord Cochrane. The humiliation of watching a French fleet destroyed before their eyes still rankled with the islanders. They associated Napoleon with past French triumphs and they gave him a warm welcome when he stepped ashore. He inspected the fortifications amidst the cheers of the inhabitants and the soldiers of the regiment stationed on the island. But when he returned to the frigate he found Captain Bonnefoux awaiting him with ominous letters from the provisional government in Paris.

'It is of the utmost importance that the Emperor leaves the soil of France as soon as possible,' one letter began. 'The interests of the State and the safety of his person make this absolutely necessary.' He was advised that he must leave within the next twenty-four hours, either on one of the frigates or on a smaller vessel, or if contrary winds prevented him sailing on either of these, he should consider going on board an English ship.

Napoleon could no longer delay a decision, but what were his options? If he and his party set sail on the frigates he risked a sea battle, the death or wounding of the men, women and children in his retinue, and ignominious capture by the British. If he remained in the vicinity of Rochefort he was likely to become a prisoner of the Bourbons or, worse still, the Prussians or the Austrians. Or he could surrender himself to the British and ask for political asylum in England. The latter choice seemed to him preferable. He therefore decided that General Savary and Count Las Cases must be despatched to the Bellerophon in order to find out from her captain how the British authorities were likely to respond to such a gesture.

At first light on the morning of 10 July the two envoys embarked on the schooner Mouche, flying a white flag of truce, and headed for the British warship which was sailing on her usual station off the seaward end of the Ile d'Oléron. It was a fresh summer morning with a light breeze and a few scattered clouds in an otherwise clear sky. As the schooner drew closer, the Bellerophon hove to and lowered a boat. With a lieutenant in the stern giving directions the sailors rowed across the intervening water and intercepted the French vessel as she rounded up into the wind with her sails flapping. General Savary and Count Las Cases were helped down into the boat and just before 8 am they came alongside the massive, battle-scarred sides of the veteran ship. They were greeted at the companionway by Captain Maitland. The meeting of the three men marked the opening move in a political drama which would decide the fate of Napoleon and throw the spotlight of history on the Bellerophon and her captain.

Captain Maitland was in many ways ideally suited for the part he found himself having to play. He came from the Scottish aristocracy and was a natural diplomat with a courteous and charming manner and a keen intelligence. He was also a highly experienced naval officer who had led an action-packed life. As the son of a distinguished naval captain who had served under Admiral Rodney and commanded the royal yacht, he entered the navy at an early age. He was present at the Battle of the Glorious First of June as a midshipman on the frigate Southampton and would have been in a good position to observe the heroic performance of the Bellerophon during the four-day action. As a junior lieutenant he had been court-martialled and honourably discharged for wrecking an 18-gun brig at the entrance of the River Tagus. Chosen by the formidable Lord St Vincent to be his flag lieutenant, he had been sent to investigate the Spanish fleet off Gibraltar in a small, armed cutter. He had fought off one Spanish warship, but been forced to surrender to another. The Spanish admiral had been so impressed by his bravery that he returned him to the British fleet without requesting an exchange of prisoners. In 1800 he commanded the armed launches during the landing of Abercromby's army in Egypt and earned the praise of Sir Sydney Smith for his conduct. Later, as commander of the frigate Loire and then the frigate Emerald, he captured or destroyed no fewer than seventeen enemy vessels on the southern coast of Spain. For his daring raid on the vessels in Muros Harbour in 1805 he received the thanks of the City of London, was presented with a sword by Lloyd's Patriotic Fund and was given the freedom of the City of Cork.

After two years in command of a 74-gun ship in the West Indies and then in Halifax, Nova Scotia, he returned to Britain and was preparing to take a convoy of transport ships across the Atlantic when news reached England that Napoleon had escaped from Elba. Maitland was recalled from convoy duty and appointed to command the Bellerophon which was then lying in the Nore. On a fine spring day in April 1815 he read his commission to the assembled crew and a month later was on his way to the Bay of Biscay in the squadron commanded by Sir Henry Hotham. Maitland was now thirty-seven years old, a tall, lean man with a slight stoop, a shock of unruly hair and a distinctive Scottish accent. His pleasant, relaxed manner as a commander was in contrast to his alarmingly efficient first lieutenant Andrew Mott. This led Midshipman Home to speculate that Maitland cleverly contrived to get a tartar appointed to this post, 'so that between the captain's good nature and the lieutenant's severity, which he occasionally checked and tempered when he thought the lieutenant was likely to exceed bounds, the ship was kept in capital discipline.'

When General Savary and Count Las Cases stepped on board the Bellerophon on 10 July Captain Maitland took them to the great cabin in the stern. This had been the seagoing home, office, war room and retreat for no fewer than fourteen commanders of the ship over the past twenty-nine years. It was furnished simply but elegantly with fine mahogany furniture in the Regency style and every surface was as clean and polished and scrubbed as the decks and gear throughout the rest of the ship. The sweeping curve of the stern windows provided a panoramic view across the glistening water towards the green slopes of the nearer islands and the distant masts of the sailing vessels anchored in the roadstead. After the preliminary courtesies had been exchanged General Savary handed Maitland the following letter which, although signed by General Bertrand, had been dictated by Napoleon and was addressed to the admiral commanding the British ships before the port of Rochefort:

Sir,

The Emperor Napoleon having abdicated the throne of France, and chosen the United States of America as a retreat, is, with his suite, at present embarked on board the two frigates which are in this port, for the purpose of proceeding to his destination. He expects a passport from the British Government, which has been promised to him, and which induces me to send the present flag of truce, to demand of you, Sir, if you have any knowledge of the above-mentioned passport, or if you think it is the intention of the British Government to throw any impediment in the way of our voyage to the United States. I shall feel much obliged by your giving me any information you may possess on the subject.

I have directed the bearers of the letter to present you my thanks, and to apologise for any trouble it may cause.

I have the honour to be,

Your excellency's most obedient, etc, etc,

Grand Marshall Count Bertrand.

This was not an entirely honest letter because Napoleon had not received a promise from anyone, let alone the British Government, that the passports would be granted him. On the other hand Maitland knew perfectly well that the request for passports had been refused but at no time did he reveal that he was aware of this. Both sides seem to have been playing a game of diplomatic poker, trying to find out each other's intentions without giving too much away. At this stage Maitland's orders were restricted to preventing Napoleon from leaving France, but while he was still pondering his response to the letter a hail from the deck announced the arrival of another British ship. It was the Falmouth, a 20-gun sloop under the command of Captain Knight, with an urgent message from Admiral Hotham who was still on patrol off Quiberon Bay 120 miles to the north. The letter was dated 8 July and informed Maitland that the Admiralty now had definite news that Napoleon intended to escape to America with his family. Maitland was ordered to keep the most vigilant lookout for him, and 'if you should be so fortunate as to intercept him, you are to transfer him and his family to the ship you command, and there keeping him in careful custody, return to the nearest port in England (going into Torbay in preference to Plymouth) with all possible expedition.' He was warned that the whole operation must be conducted with the strictest secrecy.

These new orders placed an increased responsibility on Maitland's shoulders. He was not only required to prevent Napoleon leaving France at all costs but must endeavour to get him on board the Bellerophon. He was aware that the future peace of Europe might depend on his actions. In the circumstances he decided not to reveal the British Government's intentions to Savary and Las Cases, a decision which has led some French commentators to accuse him of cynical double-dealing. Captain Knight was invited to sit in on the discussions which went on for nearly three hours. Savary and Las Cases kept plying Maitland with questions, and tried to persuade him that the peace of Europe would best be served if Napoleon were allowed to depart quietly from France. They said he wished only to retire and to spend his days in obscurity and tranquillity. When Maitland made it clear that he had strict orders to prevent the frigates leaving Rochefort they suggested that Napoleon be allowed to depart on a neutral, unarmed vessel, but again Maitland was discouraging. He set out his position in a letter which he gave them to take back with them. It was his formal answer to Bertrand's letter: 'In reply, I have to acquaint you, that I cannot say what the intentions of my Government may be; but the two countries being at present in a state of war, it is impossible for me to permit any ship of war to put to sea from the port of Rochefort.' With regard to the suggestion that the emperor proceed in a merchant vessel he was equally adamant. He could not allow a person of such consequence to pass in any vessel, under whatever flag, without the sanction of his commanding officer, Sir Henry Hotham.

Around noon Savary and Las Cases returned to Napoleon on the frigate Saale. Two hours later Captain Knight departed in the Falmouth and headed back to Admiral Hotham, taking with him Bertrand's letter and a despatch from Maitland with his appraisal of the current situation. From the British point of view Maitland's conduct of the negotiations had been masterly. He had given nothing away, but he had learnt much from his discussions with the two envoys. In particular he had noted that the hardening attitude of the government in Paris and the approaching Allied armies were putting Napoleon under increasing pressure to escape from France. Maitland's problem was that he did not have a sufficiently strong force under his command to blockade the three approaches to Rochefort effectively. He later admitted that, from the moment he learnt that Napoleon and his party were on the frigates and intended to proceed to America, 'my duty became peculiarly harassing and anxious'. The Bellerophon was capable of stopping the two French frigates, but the Myrmidon and Slaney, which were only 20-gun sloops, were no match for them. Moreover it was impossible for the three ships to intercept every small vessel in the vicinity if Napoleon should decide to escape in a chasse-marée (a type of French coastal vessel notable for her speed under sail) as some of his followers were urging him to do.

A few hours after Savary and Las Cases had departed, Maitland sailed the Bellerophon up the channel towards the French frigates and dropped anchor in Basque Roads close to the Ile d'Aix. He noted with some concern that the sterns of the frigates were loaded with vegetables, that small boats were constantly going to and fro between the ships and the shore, and that the position of the yards and sails of the frigates indicated that they were ready to put to sea at any moment. That evening Maitland took precautions to ensure that Napoleon did not give him the slip. He sent two boats to row near the frigates all night with orders to signal to him if the ships got under way. He ordered the Bellerophon and the Myrmidon to be anchored with slip buoys on their cables for immediate release; and he arranged for the topsail and topgallant yards to be hoisted and their sails held with thin yarn so they could be broken out and set at a moment's notice.

The next morning there was no sign of further activity on the frigates. Alarmed by reports that Napoleon was now planning to escape on a smaller vessel, Maitland decided he was not in the best place to keep watch on all the escape routes and gave orders for the Bellerophon to weigh anchor. With the Myrmidon and Slaney in company, they worked their way out to sea and resumed their patrol of the seaward approaches to Rochefort. On 12 July his flotilla was joined by welcome reinforcements: the Daphne, 22 guns, and the 20-gun sloop Cyrus. Maitland ordered the Daphne to take up a position at the entrance of the southernmost channel, the Passe de Mamusson, and the Cyrus to keep a watch on the northernmost channel, the Pertuis Breton. For the next two days the Bellerophon prowled restlessly back and forth, intercepting local craft and always keeping a wary eye on the frigates.

In the meantime Napoleon continued to hold discussions with his aides and delayed making any decision. When Savary and Las Cases returned to the frigate Saale after their visit to the Bellerophon, the rest of the day was spent discussing the implications of Maitland's letter and the possible options. Two of his followers thought Napoleon should return to the army but Bonaparte said that he did not want to be the cause of a single cannon shot. Most of his followers, notably Bertrand, Savary and Las Cases, were in favour of his surrendering to the British. One man, Captain Ponée, had an interesting alternative. Ponée was the commander of the Méduse, the other large frigate in the anchorage, and he proposed the following course of action:

I will go ahead of the Saale under cover of darkness, take the Bellerophon by surprise as she lies at anchor, grapple with her broadside on, and thus prevent her moving. The engagement might last two hours, and the Méduse, being a frigate of sixty guns while the Bellerophon has seventy-four, cannot fail to be sunk, but meanwhile the Saale could take advantage of the wind offshore that blows every evening, to get away, and the twenty-two gun corvette and advice-boat that made up the rest of the English flotilla would not be able to stop the Saale, a frigate of the first rank, carrying twenty-four guns in batteries and carronades of thirty-six on the bridge.

It was a brave plan and preparations were put in hand. The decks of the frigates were cleared for action, and the topsails made ready for hoisting. But still Napoleon refused to act and all the time his situation became more perilous. The following day, 11 July, newspapers arrived from Paris which contained bad news. Paris had surrendered to the Allies and King Louis XVII had returned to the city to take up residence. This had grave implications for Napoleon's followers who were likely to be declared traitors and executed if caught. On 12 July the white flag of the Bourbons appeared for the first time in the immediate neighbourhood. The log of the Bellerophon records that at 5 pm a white flag was seen flying over La Rochelle, the ancient harbour town which overlooked the anchorage of Basque Roads. Maitland hoisted the British ensign and a white flag at the mainmast in acknowledgement, headed for the roadstead, dropped anchor and shattered the peace of the evening by firing a royal salute of 21 guns.

Captain Philibert, the commander of the Saale, who was a royalist at heart and had shown little enthusiasm at having to act as host to Napoleon, now declared that he could not agree to be part of Captain Ponée's audacious plan. Napoleon decided there was no future in using the frigates to escape, and later that day he disembarked from the Saale and went across to the Ile d'Aix where he knew he could be sure of support from the loyal soldiers and the islanders. He took up residence in the commandant's house where he was given a room on the first floor, with a fine view over the anchorage. This was to be the last place on French soil that Napoleon stayed in.

On the morning of 13 July he received a surprise visit from his brother Joseph Bonaparte, the ex-King of Spain. Joseph had travelled from Bordeaux where he had chartered an American ship which was moored in the estuary of the Gironde. He was strongly against Napoleon seeking political asylum in Britain and urged him to join him on the ship and sail to New York. Napoleon thanked him for his offer but turned it down and told him to return at once to Bordeaux and make good his escape. Six weeks later Joseph was in America.

That evening Napoleon made his decision. He would surrender himself voluntarily to the British and put his trust in British justice and the country's long tradition of harbouring political refugees. Before going to bed he dictated the following letter to the Prince Regent, Britain's acting head of state during the illness of his father King George III:

Your Royal Highness,

A victim to the factions which distract my country, and to the enmity of the greatest powers of Europe, I have terminated my political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself upon the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the protection of their laws; which I claim from your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies.

Napoleon.

Rochefort 13 July 1815

The reference to Themistocles, the Athenian statesman of classical Greece who had surrendered to Artaxerxes, suggests that Napoleon saw his action as a grand gesture, an appeal from the vanquished leader to the conqueror. The letter brought tears to the eyes of General Gourgaud who was to be entrusted with delivering it to the Prince Regent. But first Napoleon wanted to be sure that there was no sign of the passports which would allow him passage to America. Early the next morning Las Cases and General Lallemand were despatched to the Bellerophon to see if there was any news of the passports, and, if not, to discuss the embarkation of Napoleon and his suite on the British ship. Once again the schooner Mouche headed across the water flying a flag of truce. Captain Maitland ordered breakfast for the two envoys and sent a signal to Captain Sartorious of the Slaney to join them on board. As on the previous occasion he wanted a witness to their discussions. When Sartorius arrived the four men settled down to detailed negotiations. Once again Las Cases put the case for allowing Napoleon to sail to America. He assured Maitland that, 'The emperor is so anxious to spare the further effusion of human blood that he will proceed to America in any way the British Government chooses to sanction, either in a French ship of war, a vessel armed en flute, or even in a British ship of war.'

Maitland replied:

I have no authority to agree to any arrangement of that sort, nor do I believe my Government would consent to it; but I think I may venture to receive him into this ship and convey him to England. If, however, he adopts that plan, I cannot enter into any promise as to the reception he may meet with, as, even in the case I have mentioned, I shall be acting on my own responsibility and cannot be sure that it would meet the approbation of the British Government.

Maitland was questioned on what sort of reception Napoleon might expect in England and, according to Las Cases, he assured him that 'Napoleon would find all the respect and good treatment he could wish for in England' and that 'in generosity of feeling and liberality of opinions the English people were superior to the throne itself.' It is hard to believe that this was an accurate account of Maitland's conversation. Apart from the fact that he would have been well aware of the animosity and hatred of Napoleon in many quarters in England, he frequently repeated that he had no authority to grant terms of any sort and could take no responsibility for his reception there. They went on to discuss Napoleon's younger brother, Lucien Bonaparte, who had been captured by a British warship in 1810. He had been allowed to settle in a country house at Thorngrove near Worcester where he lived in some comfort under the supervision of a single police inspector. This may have been seen as an encouraging sign but it would have been naïve for the envoys to assume that the former conqueror of half Europe would be regarded in the same light.

As the French envoys were leaving, Las Cases assured Captain Maitland that he had little doubt that he would see the Emperor on board his ship. That evening a barge was rowed across from the French frigates and Las Cases, accompanied this time by General Gourgaud, arrived bearing a letter for Maitland which stated that Napoleon 'will proceed on board your ship with the ebb tide tomorrow morning, between four and five o'clock', and enclosing a list of the fifty members of Napoleon's suite who would be accompanying him. Maitland was also asked to arrange for General Gourgaud to be sent to England so that he could deliver Napoleon's letter to the Prince Regent.

Maitland agreed with all the requests. It seemed that he would be able to carry out the Admiralty's orders without a shot being fired. First he arranged for Captain Sartorious to sail on ahead in the Slaney, taking with him General Gourgaud, together with his own despatches to the Admiralty. Before midnight the Slaney weighed anchor and set off for England. He then discussed with Las Cases how best to accommodate Napoleon and his party. Maitland suggested that his own cabin, the great cabin at the stern of the ship, should be divided in two, one half for the use of Napoleon and the other half for the use of the ladies in his party. Las Cases inspected the space and said, 'If you allow me to give an opinion, the Emperor will be better pleased to have the whole of the after-cabin himself, as he is fond of walking about, and will by that means be able to take more exercise.'

Maitland replied, As it is my wish to treat him with every possible consideration while he is on board the ship I command, I shall make any arrangement you think will be most agreeable to him.' Between them they worked out the accommodation for the rest of Napoleon's entourage. It was agreed that thirty-three of them would travel on the Bellerophon, and the remaining seventeen would be accommodated on the Myrmidon. They were still discussing these domestic arrangements late in the evening when a boat came alongside with a man bearing an urgent message. He reported that Napoleon had already put to sea in a chasse-marée, had sailed past La Rochelle and was intending to escape via the northern channel that night. Las Cases assured Maitland that the report could not possibly be correct. He left the ship soon afterwards.

Maitland stayed up till 1 o'clock in the morning supervising the arrangements for receiving his French guests. All was expectation and excitement,' wrote the midshipman George Home. 'The first lieutenant was engaged seeing all the belaying pins get an extra polish, and that every rope was coiled down with more than usual care.' At 3 am Maitland was woken by the officer of the watch who told him that another boat had come alongside and had confirmed the earlier report that a chasse-marée had been seen heading for the sea. Although this did nothing to allay Maitland's anxieties he felt that he had no choice but to trust Las Cases. As on previous nights when at anchor in Basque Roads he had arranged for two boats to keep guard in the vicinity of the frigates and these returned to the ship as the first glimmer of dawn lightened the sky over La Rochelle.

The morning of 15 July was grey and overcast with a freshening northerly breeze. The Bellerophon and the Myrmidon were anchored some 2 miles from the Ile d'Aix, and by 5 am most of the sailors and marines were up on the decks staring expectantly at the island and the French warships moored nearby. Captain Maitland and his first lieutenant Andrew Mott took it in turns to stare at the distant anchorage through their telescopes, searching for any sign of movement. They were rewarded by the welcome sight of the topsails being hoisted on one of the smaller vessels, and then a white flag of truce being hoisted at her masthead. Soon she was under way, heeling over before the breeze, and they could see that she was the armed brig Épervier. She was having to beat into a headwind to get to the Bellerophon and by 5.30 she had only the last of the ebb tide to help her on her way. This would not have mattered if it had not been for the fact that the lookouts had seen a strange ship on the horizon. She was flying the flag of a rear-admiral so she must be the Superb, the flagship of Sir Henry Hotham. With the wind and tide in her favour she would be alongside them in a few hours. After the weeks of watching and waiting, and the hours of negotiations, Captain Maitland was naturally reluctant to relinquish to his superior officer the prize which was almost within his grasp. He therefore ordered Lieutenant Mott to take the Bellerophons barge, and bring Napoleon off the brig which was labouring slowly towards them. Within minutes the barge was pushing off from the warship and rowing smartly towards the Epervier.

Napoleon had spent his third and last night at the commandant's house on the île d'Aix. It was, however, a short night because he and his party had to be down at the jetty by 2 am. His valet Louis-Joseph Marchand woke him in good time and helped him get dressed in the uniform which he had made famous and which was familiar to all those French soldiers who had seen him on the battlefield: the white waistcoat and breeches, military boots, and the green coat with scarlet cuffs and lapels of a colonel of the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard. To keep out the chill of the early morning he put on his olive-coloured greatcoat and his black cocked hat with tricolour cockade. He was used to getting up in the early hours and inspecting his troops in the darkness before dawn but there were no troops around on this occasion. However there was a reminder of old times when he was rowed out from the jetty and his boat pulled alongside the brig Épervier. The crew shouted 'Vive l'Empereur' as he climbed aboard. The commander of the brig, Captain Jourdan de la Passadière, saluted him at the gangway and invited him to inspect the officers and marines drawn up on the deck. When the vessel got under way Napoleon asked for some coffee and he drank it while chatting to the captain. He was cheerful and full of questions. How many guns did the ship have? And how fast could she sail? He wondered what sort of hospitality he could expect from his enemies. Captain Jourdan thought he should have tried to break through the British blockade and believed he was wrong to trust Maitland.

'It is too late', Napoleon replied. 'They expect me; I am going.'

They were halfway between the Ile d'Aix and the anchored British warships when the barge commanded by Lieutenant Mott was seen heading their way, four sets of oars rising and falling rhythmically, their progress helped by the brisk, following wind. The French brig hove to, the sailors in the barge brought her smartly alongside and the British lieutenant clambered up onto the deck. He spoke no French so Countess Bertrand, the wife of Napoleon's most senior adviser, acted as interpreter. Mott explained that he had come to collect Napoleon and had room for half a dozen others in the boat. Napoleon asked him how long it would take them to sail from Basque Roads to England. Mott reckoned it would take eight days. Napoleon pondered this for a moment and then turned to the ladies in his party. 'Well, mesdames, do you feel able to reach the English ship?'

The sailors helped Countess Bertrand and her three children and Countess Montholon and her child into the barge. General Bertrand and General Savary followed. Napoleon was the last to leave the French brig and step down into the British boat. It was a symbolic moment which was not lost on those present. The Emperor was surrendering to the enemy - the enemy which had opposed him and the armies of France for more than twenty years, ever since he had directed his guns at the British fleet during the siege of Toulon. Lieutenant Mott saw that many of the French soldiers and sailors lining the rail were in tears. Napoleon stood in the sternsheets of the barge, hunched in his greatcoat, and as he looked up at them they started cheering, and the cheering grew louder and more defiant as the British sailors bent to their oars and began pulling away. The cheering continued until the passengers in the barge were out of earshot and the sound was replaced by the regular thump and splash of the oars, and the cries of gulls soaring over the grey, windswept waters of the anchorage.

Back on the Bellerophon there was a general feeling of anticipation and excitement among the officers and men. The exception was Captain Maitland who was unable to conceal his anxiety and was observed trudging back and forth between the gangway and his cabin. Every now and again he would peer out of one of the quarterdeck ports to see if the barge was approaching. Earlier he had had to make a decision on a delicate matter of protocol. Should he receive Napoleon on board with the full ceremonial due to a head of state or should he treat him as an enemy officer who had come to surrender? He was conscious of the historic nature of the occasion and he was also acutely aware that he would be answerable to his commanding officer Admiral Hotham, and to his political masters in London, if he put a foot wrong during the next few hours.

He decided on what he hoped was a neat compromise. It was not customary on a British warship to engage in the ceremonial honours due to a person of high rank before 8 o'clock in the morning or after sunset. It was now 6 am. So it would be inappropriate at this hour to man the yards with sailors or fire a salute with the guns. Instead he ordered a guard of marines to be drawn up on the break of the poop deck. They were to come to attention when Napoleon came aboard but were not to present arms. The ship's officers were to wait on the quarterdeck, and the boatswain was to stand at the companionway ready to sound his whistle.

The boatswain was a 31-year-old Irishman from County Limerick called James Manning. He had been a blacksmith before joining the navy and was short and stout with a formidably bronzed face. While they were all waiting for Lieutenant Mott to return with the barge a young midshipman sauntered up to him and said, 'Manning, this is the proudest day of your life. You are this day to do the honours of the side to the greatest man the world has ever produced or ever will produce.'

The boatswain nodded and beamed with pride.

'And along with the great Napoleon, the name of Manning the boatswain of the Bellerophon will go down to posterity. And as a relic of that great man, permit me, my dear Manning, to preserve a lock of your hair.' And with that the midshipman pulled out some of his whiskers and ran down below before anyone could stop him. The infuriated boatswain swore and hurled his hat after the midshipman which produced a half-suppressed burst of laughter from the crew on the deck.

At some time between 6 and 7 o'clock (the various accounts differ on this point) the Bellerophon's barge returned from her trip to the French brig. As she came alongside, the sailor in the bows grabbed hold of the chains hanging beside the boarding ladder, and General Bertrand climbed up the sides of the warship and appeared on deck. He was Napoleon's most valued friend and supporter, a former engineer officer who had played a major part in the invasion of Egypt, and had been appointed Grand Marshal of the Palace. He approached Captain Maitland and told him that the Emperor was in the boat. There was a pause and then a man in a greatcoat buttoned to the chin and a black cocked hat appeared at the gangway. No one watching was in any doubt who this was. For years the British cartoonists had ridiculed the figure of Napoleon, accentuating his prominent belly, his round face and aquiline nose, and they were fond of depicting him with the angry scowl of a spoilt child. The reality was startlingly different. The man who now marched briskly across the deck had a commanding presence and an unmistakable air of authority. As the high-pitched shrill of Manning's whistle died away, Napoleon climbed the short stairway to the quarterdeck. There he pulled off his hat and addressed himself to Captain Maitland. Speaking in French, with a firm tone of voice, he said, 'I am come to throw myself on the protection of your Prince and your laws.'

Captain Maitland gave a deep bow, and led him into the great cabin. Napoleon looked around and remarked that it was a handsome room. Maitland replied, 'Such as it is, Sir, it is at your service while you remain on board the ship I command.'

Seeing a portrait hanging up on one of the walls, Napoleon asked, 'Who is that young lady?'

'My wife,' said Maitland.

Ah! She is very young and very pretty.'

He went on to ask Maitland about his children and his naval service, and then said that he would like to be introduced to the ship's officers. Maitland sent for them and introduced them one by one. Napoleon wanted to know the age of each man, his rank, how long he had served in the navy and what actions he had been in. Before they left the cabin he had some flattering words for them.

'Well, gentlemen,' he said, 'you have the honour of belonging to the bravest and most fortunate nation in the world.' He then turned to Maitland and said that he would like to look round the ship. Before taking him on a tour Maitland suggested that they conduct their conversations in English as he had heard that Napoleon understood the language while he, Maitland, had difficulty in expressing himself in French. That would be impossible, Napoleon told him, as he hardly understood a word of English. Maitland later wrote that the problem was that Napoleon spoke too fast for him to follow his meaning but after a few days he got used to this and was able to understand him perfectly. In the meantime they seem to have coped admirably, no doubt assisted by members of Napoleon's party who acted as interpreters. They certainly managed to conduct a most interesting conversation as they toured the ship.

Napoleon had never been on a British man-of-war before and was fascinated by every aspect of the ship and her crew. He particularly wanted to find out why British ships were able to beat the French with such ease. He pointed out that the finest warships in the British Navy were French, and that French ships were bigger, had larger crews, and carried more guns, and guns of a larger calibre than their British equivalents. Was it due to the quality of the British seamen who were so smartly turned out and were surely a different class of people from French seamen? Maitland said that he did not wish to take away from the merit of the British seamen but the key lay in the superior experience of the officers. British ships were constantly at sea and the officers were able to train up their crews in a way not possible for the French crews who were forced to spend most of their time in port. Napoleon had heard from some French sailors who had been detained on the Bellerophon for a few days, and then put ashore on the Ile d'Aix, that Maitland frequently carried out gunnery practice and trained his men to fire at a mark.

'I did so because I considered it of the greatest importance,' said Maitland, and added that if the French frigates had attempted to put to sea he would have had an opportunity to observe the effect of it. Napoleon thought that two frigates with 24-pounders on their main decks were surely a match for a 74-gun ship, and he asked whether Maitland thought they would have been successful if they had attempted to force a passage past the Bellerophon. Maitland thought it unlikely because, as he explained in some detail:

the fire of a two-deck ship was so much more compact, and carried such an immense weight of iron, in proportion to that of a frigate, and there was so much difficulty in bringing two or three ships to act with effect at the same time upon one, that I scarcely considered three frigates a match for one line-of-battle ship; that with respect to forcing a passage past the Bellerophon, it must have depended greatly on accident, but the chances were very much against it; as the frigates would have had to beat out against the wind for three or four leagues, through a narrow passage, exposed to the fire of a seventy-four gun ship, which, from being to windward, would have had the power of taking the position most advantageous to herself.

At 9 o'clock they sat down for an English-style breakfast of tea, coffee and cold meats. Napoleon ate very little and when Maitland learnt that he was used to a hot meal in the morning he arranged that, in future, Napoleon's cook should prepare his meals, 'and after that we always lived in the French fashion, as far as I could effect that object'. At 10.30 the Superb sailed into the roadstead and dropped anchor nearby. Maitland immediately went across in a boat to report to Sir Henry Hotham. He was greatly relieved to find that the Admiral approved of his actions and thought it appropriate that the Bellerophon should be the ship which carried Napoleon to England.

The afternoon was spent loading on board the former emperor's baggage and at 5 o'clock the first of many grand dinners took place in the stern of the ship. The meal was prepared by Napoleon's kitchen staff and they ate off the imperial silver plate. Maitland noted that Napoleon conducted himself in the manner of royalty: he led the party into the dining-room, seated himself in the centre at one side of the table, and placed Sir Henry Hotham on his right, Countess Bertrand on his left and Captain Maitland opposite him. Cups of strong coffee were served when they had finished dinner, and Napoleon invited all those present to join him in the after-cabin. There he asked his valet Marchand to show them his camp-bed. This was an ingenious folding bed which he had used on many of his military campaigns. From two leather cases Marchand took out the steel bedstead, the mattress and green silk curtains and within three minutes he had erected a small but elegant bed. Before leaving the ship Hotham invited Napoleon, together with the ladies and his principal officers, to join him for breakfast the next day.

Captain Maitland was up early on 16 July and noted that all his instructions for the reception of his guests had been carried out. Nets had been stretched across the gunports to prevent the young children from falling overboard; an awning had been erected between the main and mizen masts to provide a sheltered space on deck for the ladies of the party; and two red-coated marines were standing guard outside the after-cabin. When Napoleon appeared on deck the officers in the vicinity removed their hats and when he prepared to embark for breakfast on the Superb he found a guard of marines drawn up alongside the companionway. Although there was a fresh breeze and an overcast sky the weather was mild enough for Napoleon to discard his greatcoat. Lieutenant Bowerbank noted in his journal that the great man was wearing his green uniform coat with the red collar and cuffs and two gold epaulettes; he had the star and cross of the Légion d'honneur and several other orders pinned on the left breast; and instead of his military boots he was wearing shoes with handsome gold buckles.

Admiral Hotham had decided to welcome Napoleon in style and, as the boat carrying the former emperor approached the Superb, the sailors swarmed up the shrouds and manned the yards, an honour normally reserved for a sovereign or head of state. Napoleon was piped aboard and found the ship's company assembled on the deck in divisions and a captain's guard of marines lined up on the quarterdeck. He was formally welcomed by Sir Henry who introduced him to the officers and took him on a tour of the ship. Much heartened by his regal reception, Napoleon delighted everyone by his lively conversation and his interest in the crew and in every detail of the ship from the guns and ammunition to victuals, clothing and methods of storage.

Around midday they returned to the Bellerophon and preparations were made for getting under way. The barge and the cutter were hoisted aboard and stowed amidships, the topsail yards were hoisted, and the crew manned the capstans and began heaving up the anchor. At around 2 pm they made sail and began working their way out of Basque Roads in company with the Myrmidon. Napoleon remained on deck throughout these manoeuvres, constantly asking Maitland what was happening. He noted that the British manner of getting under way was different from the French and was much impressed by the crew.

'What I admire most in your ship,' he said, 'is the extreme silence and orderly conduct of your men: on board a French ship everyone calls and gives orders, and they gabble like so many geese.'

That evening General Bertrand invited the first lieutenant and the captain of the marines to join Napoleon and his party for dinner. It was a jovial affair and an onlooker would never have imagined that Napoleon was a defeated general in the midst of his victorious enemies. He was happy to speak at length about the Battles of the Nile and Trafalgar and mentioned the name of Nelson with approval. When the meal was finished he again went on deck and plied the officers with questions about the working of the sails and rigging. He remarked that the wind was not fair and asked what the distance was to England. At 7.45 pm he retired to his cabin for the night.