“At any rate, I think this is one of the greatest curiosities of the Crimean war.”
“Why?” asked the admiral, talking to twenty others at the time.
“Why, admiral, pray who would have thought of seeing while in the Crimea a Sardinian army cross London Bridge?”
“Ha! ha! ha! true enough; that’s not bad; singular things are seen and done in time of war. What do you think of their soldiers, Monsieur Soyer?”
“Fine fellows!”
“They are fine fellows. But I wish they spoke English—we should get on much quicker.”
“I’ll speak to them for you, if you like, admiral.”
“Ah, to be sure, so you can.”
I immediately set about acting as interpreter between the English admiral and the Sardinian captains. In his anxiety to get rid of them as quickly as possible, Admiral Boxer asked whether they had pretty much what they required; a question which brought about ten complainants on deck, who surrounded me. One had no hay, barley, or water for his horses. They all spoke at the same time, and made a hubbub which could only be feebly imitated at the Paris Stock Exchange.
“What’s all this row about? This will never do,” said the admiral. “Pray don’t tell them who I am, or they will bother my life out.”