The boys were standing on the quay at Brixham when they saw the two warships sail round Berry Head and enter the bay. They heard the distant sound of the boatswain's whistle and watched the sails being furled and the anchors let go. John told Dick to run up to the baker's shop and tell Michelmore and his wife that two King's ships had come in and would be wanting bread. Just then they saw a large gig pull away from the larger warship and head for the shore. There were eight sailors at the oars and three officers sitting in the stern. The coxswain of the gig brought it expertly alongside the jetty and two of the officers jumped ashore, one of them carrying a portmanteau. One of them was Andrew Mott, the Bellerophon's first lieutenant. The other was a tall man of about thirty-five with a cloak on his arm. This was Lieutenant Fletcher from the Superb, Admiral Hotham's flagship. John and his friends had no idea who the two officers were but they realised they must be on urgent business because they saw them hurry along the quayside to the London Inn to arrange for transport. Within ten minutes the horses had been harnessed on to the old yellow postchaise, the postboy mounted, and Lieutenant Fletcher was on his way to London. The younger officer strode back to the pierhead and, before the boys could ask what it all meant, he had jumped into the stern of the gig and was being rowed back to the anchored ship.
'Bean't he in a hurry, then?' said the old baker. 'Come, boys, let's be off to the ship.' The five of them climbed into a rowing boat, and shoved off from the shore. Charlie and his brother handled one oar, the baker's apprentice the other, John sat up in the bow, and Michelmore sat in the stern and steered. The baker had brought with him a large sack containing fresh loaves of bread in the expectation that he would receive a lot more orders when they reached the warships. As they drew near the 74-gun ship they saw that the shore boats had gathered together some way short of the massive wooden sides of the vessel. There was a furious argument going on between someone on board the ship and a man who was standing up in one of the boats. Michelmore steered alongside and asked what was going on.
'They won't let us come alongside, and they say as how they don't want no shore boats at all,' was the reply. Michelmore was sure the sailors would want some fresh bread so he let his boat drift forward. The tide took them right under the stern until they were looking up at the elaborately carved stern galleries, the elegant windows of the stern cabins, the rakishly angled lanterns and the huge union flag flapping to and fro in the breeze. Immediately above them on the poop deck they could see a marine sentry in scarlet uniform with a musket. An officer beside him leant over the rail and shouted, 'Sheer off. No boats allowed here.'
Michelmore refused to be put off. He caught hold of the sill of one of the lower deck gunports with his boat hook and shouted back, 'But I've brought you some bread.'
'If we want bread,' the officer replied, 'we'll come ashore and fetch it, and if you don't let go I'll sink you.' John was alarmed to see the sentry put down his musket and pick up a cannon ball. He leant over and held it exactly above the boy's head. He called the baker an old fool and swore that, unless he let go, he would sink the lot of them. John was greatly relieved when Michelmore pushed them clear of the ship's stern and allowed them to drift out of harm's way.
As they moved clear, one of the warship's boats pulled alongside them filled with a dozen men armed with cutlasses. The officer in the stern warned them to keep out of trouble as he had orders to keep off all shore boats. They retreated to where the other shore boats were gathered. Michelmore was indignant. 'Man and boy have I sailed on these here waters,' he said, 'and never have I been so treated.' None of them could understand what was going on because usually when a ship returned from abroad the crew was eager to communicate with the shore and exchange news.
Discouraged by their reception, the other shore boats departed one by one. Michelmore was inclined to follow them but the boys persuaded him to stay. They were on holiday and were reluctant to cut short their outing. They decided to circle round the ship at a safe distance, They headed out into the bay until they were some way ahead of the anchored vessel but the tide was still running strongly and they found themselves being swept back towards her bows and then closer to her sides than they intended. While his companions heaved on the oars, John stared at the rows of open gunports moving steadily past them. He suddenly noticed that at one of the lower ports a sailor was trying to attract his attention. He was nodding his head violently but had his finger to his lips in a warning gesture. Unfortunately the tide continued to sweep them backwards past the anchored vessel and out of sight of the sailor. Greatly excited, John encouraged Michelmore to turn back. They once again circled the ship and when the guard boat was at a safe distance, they again approached the bows. The sailor was standing back in the shadows but his hand was clearly visible on the sill of the gunport. As they passed he let something fall from his fingers. Anxious not to attract attention, they waited until the object had drifted a hundred yards clear of the ship before rowing towards it. John had his hand dragging carelessly in the water until they were close enough for him to grab it.
The object proved to be a small black bottle. They were now acutely aware that any communication between the ship and the shore was strictly forbidden so John was too frightened at first to look at his prize in case they were being watched by someone on board with a telescope. However, they were too curious to wait until they reached the shore. Making sure that the baker's ample body hid him from sight, John examined the bottle more closely. 'It was a foreign-looking bottle, and as I drew the cork, its oiliness and perfume suggested that it had been used for some liqueur. I kept that bottle for a few years, but even now, without it, I can recall its shape and size and smell.'
Inside the bottle there was a small piece of paper rolled up. On the paper was written, 'We have got Bonaparte on board.' It is difficult for us today to realise what those words must have meant. Even before his escape from Elba and the events leading up to the Battle of Waterloo, Napoleon was, without doubt, the most famous person in the western world. To the boys in the boat on that bright summer day, hearing that Napoleon had arrived in Torbay was like hearing that a man had landed from the moon. Bursting with their news, they rowed full tilt back to the shore and within minutes the word had spread around Brixham. A crowd gathered on the waterfront and any boat that could be sailed or rowed was commandeered and pushed out into the harbour. Soon the Bellerophon was surrounded by vessels of all sizes and the cries of 'Bonaparte' warned those on board that the secret was out. The guard boat continued to prevent any vessel coming alongside but no attempt was made to hide the famous passenger and his companions. At first Napoleon was seen at the stern windows and then, around 3 pm, he came on deck where he viewed the crowds through his pocket-glass.
John Smart was surprised at how small the former emperor looked and thought he was rather fat. He noted that he wore a green uniform with red facings, gold epaulettes, white waistcoat and breeches and high military boots. 'He took off his hat which had a cockade on it and bowed to the people, who took off their hats and shouted "Hooray!" I recall a feeling of triumph mixed with a natural satisfaction at seeing a wonderful sight.'
Lieutenant Fletcher, the naval officer who had dashed off to London in the postchaise, only held his tongue until he got to Exeter, because that evening a number of carts and postchaises arrived from that city crammed with curious sightseers. During the course of the next day a great number of boats and yachts arrived from Torquay, Paignton, Dartmouth, and further afield. Every inn in Brixham was full and there was no room left for visitors or any stabling for horses. There was a gala atmosphere and an extraordinary sense of excitement in the town. A correspondent to The Times recorded his impressions: