Bowerbank noted that his walk more resembled a march and that when walking he generally kept his hands in his pockets or folded behind his back.
Another officer, Clement Shorter, observed that he never saw Napoleon with his arms folded across his breast in the manner he was usually portrayed. 'His more common posture was his right hand stuck in the breast of his waistcoat, or thrust into his breeches pocket . . .' Like everybody else, Lieutenant Smith was impressed by Napoleon's keen and penetrating eye - 'his eye is like a hawke's he never sees anything once but he recollects it again' - but he was surprised by the former emperor's easy manner. 'He is very affable and pleasing in his manners, he speaks to anyone he comes athwart and is always in a good humour, he bears his misfortunes with a great deal of fortitude which to me is astonishing.'
At dawn on 23 July, a week after they had set sail from Basque Roads, they sighted the lighthouse on the Isle of Ushant. This was the westernmost point of France and the last chance for the French men and women on board the Bellerophon to see their country before the ship headed up the English Channel and made for Torbay. Whether Napoleon was alerted by a shout from the crew on deck, or had given instructions to his valet to wake him, is not clear, but he surprised the sailors by emerging on deck at 4 am. Midshipman Home had just arrived for the morning watch when he saw Napoleon preparing to ascend the ladder to the poop deck. The decks were slippery because the men had begun to wash them down and so Home immediately went across and offered Napoleon his arm to prevent him falling. Napoleon smiled and pointed upwards, saying in broken English 'the poop, the poop'. He climbed the ladder, leaning on the midshipman's arm. When they reached the poop deck, he thanked Home and pointing to the distant land he said, 'Ushant? Cape Ushant?'
'Yes, Sire,' Home replied. Napoleon took his pocket-glass from his pocket and stared fixedly at the island and the coast beyond. He remained there for the rest of the morning. He was joined by several members of his suite but he spoke to none of them and remained oblivious to anything else around him, his eyes fixed on the slowly receding coast of France. Sixty years later the British artist Sir William Quiller Orchardson painted a memorable picture of the scene on the deck of the Bellerophon that morning. As the ship and all the people portrayed in the painting were long gone when he began work on the painting, Orchardson made use of the published journals of Captain Maitland and some of the other officers. He exhibited the picture at the Royal Academy in 1880 where it was much admired and it subsequently established itself in British history books as a popular and enduring image of Napoleon. It has never found favour in France, showing as it does a dejected and defeated emperor in the hands of his enemies.
They passed several other British warships as they crossed the Channel and, towards evening they sighted the coast of England. When Captain Maitland went along to the after-cabin to inform Napoleon he found him in a flannel dressing gown, preparing to go to bed. On hearing the news, he put on his army greatcoat and came up on deck. It was a fine summer evening but it was cool out at sea, a steady breeze from the north-west filling the worn and salt-stained sails of the Bellerophon. Ahead of them the sails of the Myrmidon gleamed in the dying sunlight. Beyond her, clearly visible on the horizon, was the high ground of Dartmoor. Napoleon stared at the distant hills through his pocket telescope. He asked Captain Maitland how far they were from Torbay and when they would arrive. They were making a good 8 or 9 knots and Maitland reckoned they would reach their destination at dawn the next day.
They were joined on the poop deck by other members of Napoleon's entourage. It was an emotional time. Madame Bertrand burst into tears when she caught sight of the English coast. With three young children to look after, she was increasingly anxious about the future. She was aware that they might never set foot in France again and, although she had spent many years living in England, she was less optimistic about the reception they might expect than Napoleon himself. During the seven-day voyage from Rochefort he had frequently talked of settling down and living the life of a country gentleman among his former enemies. His companions were not so optimistic. Although Captain Maitland had been a generous and charming host during the past week, they were aware that he was under orders from superior officers and could have little or no influence on the decisions which would be made in London.
At dawn the next day, 24 July, the two warships were sailing along the coast off Dartmouth. Napoleon looked out of the stern windows of the Bellerophon and pointed out to his valet the charming houses nestling among the wooded bays and rocky inlets. He said he would be pleased to live in one of them in solitude. He would take the name of Muiron or Duroc, two soldiers who had lost their lives during his campaigns: Muiron had saved his life by covering his body with his own during the siege of Toulon; Duroc had been killed at his side by a cannon ball.
Around 5 am Napoleon emerged from the captain's cabin and joined the small group of officers standing on the poop deck. He was delighted with the boldness of the coast and pointed out to Captain Maitland that England, with her numerous safe harbours, enjoyed a great advantage over France which was surrounded by rocks and dangers. As they passed close under the commanding heights of Berry Head and turned into the sweeping curve of Torbay, he could scarcely contain his delight at the beauty of the scenery. He frequently exclaimed in French, 'What a beautiful country!' and told Maitland that Torbay reminded him of the Bay of Ferrajo in the island of Elba.
The two warships headed towards Brixham Harbour at the southern end of the bay. Apart from some local fishing boats the only other vessels at anchor were an armed brig and the 20-gun ship Slaney which had sailed on ahead of them, carrying General Gourgaud with Napoleon's letter to the Prince Regent, and Maitland's despatches for Admiral Lord Keith, the commander of the Channel fleet. As the Bellerophon prepared to anchor, a boat pushed off from the Slaney and headed towards her. An officer in the stern of the boat had a letter from Lord Keith with instructions for Maitland to remain in Torbay until further notice. He was 'most positively ordered to prevent every person whatever from coming on board the ship you command, except the officers and men who compose her crew.'
It was around 8 am when the men on the Bellerophon and the Myrmidon received the order to anchor. The sailors high up on the yard-arms hauled up the sails and the heavy anchors of the two ships splashed into the calm waters less than half a mile from the waterfront of Brixham. As the ships swung round with the tide, a few rowing boats headed out towards them, their occupants hoping to sell fresh bread, fruit and farm produce to the sailors on board.
In one of the boats was a local baker called Michelmore, his young apprentice, and three schoolboys: John Smart, Charlie Puddicombe and his younger brother Dick. John Smart later recorded his experiences of that memorable day. He recalled that he would normally have been at school but, in common with many English schoolboys that summer, he had been given an extra week's holiday to celebrate Wellington's victory over Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo. Earlier in the month the coach from Exeter had brought a copy of the Gazette to Brixham with lists of the 15,000 men in Wellington's army who had been killed or wounded. John and his friends were too young to realise the extent of the grief which the news of the battle had brought to so many mothers and sisters. Their concern today was how to spend the two half-crowns which John had just been given for his birthday.