On the bow of the Beagle, sailors scurried up and down the mast like monkeys, as three sails unfurled fiercely, and the blue ensign of the Royal Navy reserves soared high.
Under Colonel Fitzroy's orders, the Beagle blared its whistle madly as it charged full speed towards the mouth of the Thames.
This action naturally drew a stream of curses from the merchant ships on the Thames River.
"Fuck your mother! Are you blind?"
"Son of a bitch, are you rushing to Hell?"
Some merchant sailors were even furious enough to hurl dead rats and fermented herring at the Beagle from a great distance.
"Fuck off, I'll stink you bunch of fucking idiots to death!"
In response to the merchant sailors' cursing, the sailors didn't retaliate verbally; they simply deftly lifted the wooden covers on the ten gun ports on both sides of the Beagle.