This day, July 25, proved a most gratifying one indeed to me; I have seen Buonaparte for nearly two hours. A few friends took a pilot boat and went into Torbay; we anchored near the Bellerophon, amidst thousands of boats, etc. Buonaparte repeatedly appeared at a cabin window, which was wide open; he appears rather stout, very full in the face, but very stern and thoughtful in his manner. The Captain of the ship was his only companion.
According to Lieutenant Bowerbank, Napoleon appeared pleased with the eagerness of the crowd to see him, and remarked, 'How very curious these English are.' He was also much taken by the beauty of the women among the onlookers. He kept repeating, 'What charming girls! What beautiful women!' and bowed to them as they waved and smiled up at him. Captain Maitland was besieged with applications from people wishing to come on board. Among them was a note from a lady which was accompanied by a basket of fruit. She requested that a boat might be sent for her the next morning. Maitland sent her a civil answer but informed her that his instructions would not allow him to comply with her request. He noted that 'no more fruit was sent from that quarter'.
At 3 am on 26 July, less than two days after their arrival in Torbay, a boat rowed out to the Bellerophon with orders that she was to proceed immediately to Plymouth. The politicians in London were extremely concerned that Napoleon might escape while they were debating what to do with him. Torbay was exposed to easterly winds and although Plymouth had the disadvantage of being heavily populated, and likely to attract even bigger crowds than Torbay, it had a sheltered anchorage. Furthermore the presence of the naval base, the flagship of Admiral Keith and many other warships made it much easier to prevent any attempt to rescue Napoleon. It was still dark when the Bellerophon weighed anchor and began working her way out of the bay in company with the frigates Myrmidon and Slaney. By 8 am they were off Bolt Head and heading due west. There was a clear blue sky but a gusty, northerly breeze had stirred up a choppy sea, sending clouds of white spray flying in the air as the bows of the three ships dipped into the waves.
Napoleon remained on deck for most of the passage, silently observing the rocky coastline of Devon. As they headed into Plymouth Sound, Captain Maitland drew his attention to the breakwater which was being constructed in the middle of the Sound. Napoleon thought it a great national undertaking and was surprised to learn that it was expected to be completed for less than a million pounds.
'I have expended a large sum of money on the port of Cherbourg,' he said, but he believed that this and similar projects would now be neglected and allowed to go to ruin.
They dropped anchor around 4 pm and Maitland immediately set off to report to Admiral Lord Keith, the commanding officer of the Channel fleet. His flagship, the Ville de Paris, was anchored in Hamoaze, the stretch of water in the inner harbour of Plymouth which runs past the naval dockyard. During the next two weeks Keith was the principal intermediary between the British Government and Napoleon. He was nearly seventy, a big man, with more than twenty years' experience as an admiral and an able administrator. He had made a fortune from prize money while commanding ships in the Far East and the Mediterranean, and between 1803 and 1814 he had held the key posts of commander-in-chief of the North Sea fleet and then of the Channel fleet. He congratulated Maitland on his successful blockade and on taking Napoleon onto his ship. He was keen to meet the former emperor but said that he could not do so until he had received instructions as to how he was to be treated. In the meanwhile he emphasised that nobody must be allowed to board the Bellerophon without his written permission. He told Maitland that he had just ordered the frigates Liffey and Eurotas to mount guard in the immediate vicinity. His detailed instructions to the captains of these vessels reflect the concern felt by the politicians in London that Napoleon must be closely guarded and isolated from any attempt to communicate with him:
The Liffey and Eurotas are to take up an anchorage on each side of the Bellerophon at a convenient distance, and observe the following directions, as well for the prevention of the escape of Bonaparte or any of his suite from that ship, as for restraining shore-boats and others from approaching too close to her, either from curiosity or from any other motive.
A constant watch of an officer, a quarter-watch, and double sentinels are to be kept by day, as well as a boat manned and armed alongside in constant readiness as a guard boat. The same precaution is to be observed all night, with the exception that one of the boats in charge of a lieutenant is to row guard and to be relieved every hour.
No shore boats, or others, are to be suffered either by night or by day to approach nearer the Bellerophon than one cable's length; and no boats are to be permitted to loiter about the ship even at that distance, either from curiosity or any other motive. Neither the captains of the Liffey nor Eurotas, nor any other officer belonging to those or any other ships, are to go on board the Bellerophon either to visit or on any pretence whatever without permission from me in writing.
When Maitland returned to his ship he found that the frigates had already taken up their positions and the men in the guard boats were firing their muskets in an attempt to keep at bay the increasing numbers of boats crowded with sightseers. These measures greatly disturbed Napoleon and his followers and seemed to confirm the ominous reports they had seen in the British newspapers over the past few days. The courtesy and respect shown to them by Captain Maitland and Admiral Hotham had led them to believe that they would be given asylum in England. Napoleon had even talked of receiving the Order of the Garter from the Prince Regent. It was rapidly dawning on them that they were prisoners and not honoured guests. Worse still, it was being suggested in the newspapers that Napoleon would be sent to St Helena, a remote island in the South Atlantic.
Until now the French party on the Bellerophon had discounted some of the more savage newspaper reports. On 25 July, for instance, The Times had referred to 'the capture of that bloody miscreant who has so long tortured Europe' and had published a letter from a particularly hardline correspondent who signed himself 'Probus'. The writer, who undoubtedly represented the views of many British people, thought that Napoleon should be brought to trial and public execution, because, 'He has, for a long succession of years, deluged Europe in blood, to gratify his own mad vanity, his insatiable and furious ambition. It is calculated that every minute he has reigned has cost the life of a human being.' A softer line had been taken by the Courier which, in its issue of 21 July, had pointed out that Napoleon had voluntarily surrendered himself as a prisoner of war into the hands of the Prince Regent, and the law of nations prescribed that 'as soon as your enemy has laid down his arms and surrendered his person, you have no longer any right over his life.' However, the paper declared that now that he was in the safe custody of a British warship steps must be taken to ensure that 'he shall not be able to disturb again the repose and security of the world'.