“Where is the pony now?”
“God knows. Perhaps that fellow has stolen it.”
“I hope not. Describe the man. Who was he?”
“A soldier, I believe; but let us go to the Commandant’s, and inquire, for I think he took the pony to the stable-yard.”
Upon making inquiries, we heard the animal had been sent direct to head-quarters. Thus terminated the adventures connected with my first interview with the good and benevolent Mrs. Seacole, whom I have ever since christened La Mère Noire, although she has a fair daughter.
Before the evening was over I had visited the various hospitals, inspected a fresh arrival of provisions—particularly fresh vegetables, which were sent from Constantinople weekly, for the use of the hospitals and camp. These often arrived in a bad state, owing to the heat of the weather, which was intense. The difficulty of transport and distribution throughout the camps rendered the dry composition I had submitted to the Commissariat much preferable, more especially for issue to the troops in camp.
The great event during my unexpected and adventurous absence was the arrival of Lord Ward in his beautiful steamer, the London, filled with all kinds of provisions, to be gratuitously distributed among the soldiers, more as a luxury than a necessity. Provisions were not at this time so scarce as they had been—the soldiers were receiving ample rations. Facility and method in the cooking was what was most required.
THE 24TH OF MAY,—THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY IN THE HARBOUR OF BALAKLAVA.
At midday a royal salute was fired; shouts were heard in all directions, and about noon the band struck up “God save the Queen.” The ships were gaily dressed out with their flags, and this put every sailor in good humour. They were regaled with plenty of roast beef and plum-pudding, and abundance of rum. Tunes struck up in every direction—“Drops of brandy,” “Barley bree,” hornpipes, &c.; but the “Ratcatcher’s Daughter” would have been most in harmony. I was then dining with Captain Shepherd and a party of about ten, on board his superb ship, the Triton. When dinner was over, we left the jovial board to smoke our cigars upon deck. We went to breathe the fresh air, and to watch the frolics of the joyous but rather tumultuous crew, who were performing their nautical steps between decks, to the shrieking sounds of a damaged fiddle and still more damaging fiddler. The tunes we listened to produced upon our ears the effect we anticipated, but the air we were breathing quite the contrary effect upon our noses. Captain Heath, the harbour-master, who was then living on board, also gave a dinner-party that day; and as his numerous guests appeared upon deck, there was quite an array of naval and military men.
I seldom smoke, and I remarked that the air we were so anxious to breathe was anything but wholesome or agreeable. Thereupon the commander of the Diamond observed that an unpleasant odour arose from the sea.