“Of course he will, you may depend upon that; but I will let you know all about it.”
“As it is near your dinner-time, I wish you good afternoon.”
“Where are you going to dine, Monsieur Soyer? I believe I have but meagre fare to offer you—a little soup and a leg of mutton. Will you dine with me?”
“Many thanks—not to-day: we had a late lunch on board; and I have not been to Soyer’s Castle yet, nor seen any of my people.”
“I suppose Lord Ward has a first-rate cook on board his steamer?”
“A very good one, and excellent provisions and wine. The only thing we required was missing—that was appetite. Though fine at starting, we had a rather rough passage for the time of year.”
The conversation terminated, and I took my departure. It was now too late to make any more calls, so I went straight to the noble mansion called Soyer’s House—a real kiosque, built of wood, very much like a cage. The proprietor was a Turkish carriage-builder, a kind of a duck of a fellow, who always retired to rest at dusk, and rose before daybreak to work. He and four bulky Turkish boys accompanied their incessant hammering by an Oriental chorus, which lasted from four till seven in the morning—their breakfast-time. We not only had the satisfaction of hearing them, but from my bed I could see them at work, through my sieve-like bed-room floor, the boards of which did not meet by about half an inch—no doubt to facilitate the ventilation of this Moslem edifice. The weather being hot, this was bearable; but the harmony of such inharmonious birds was not tolerable; so for several days, and while they were in full chorus, various accidents, in the shape of upsetting large buckets of water, occurred. The refreshing liquid at once found its way to the back of our illustrious landlord, and he changed his tone and air, to invoke the blessing of Mahomet upon our devoted heads: upon which I gave them to understand, through an Armenian groom, that if they dared kick up such a row, the General would turn them out of their house. After that we had less singing, but the same quantum of hammering. At all events, we were better than under canvas.
The house was very spacious: it contained nine rooms of a good size. I had left it tenanted by good company—viz., three civilian doctors—Burn, Ellis, and Howard—but found it deserted upon my return, by all but the rats and other vermin. I and my people preferred that to living and sleeping at the hospital, and, after a few days’ sport, and stopping about three hundred holes, it became habitable. The landlord fortunately had the toothache, and the fat boy, to whom I gave a few piastres to hold his noise, was silent. The ablution of the other now and then with a jug of hot water kept this extraordinary establishment quiet.
If the interior of this wooden crib was not all comfort, its outside was very cheerful, and rather elegant. It had the appearance of a large Swiss châlet. Vines grew round it; and if the windows were left open, branches of cherry and mulberry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, hung above one’s head as one lay in bed. The strong morning sea-breeze made the house rock like a cradle, and in shaking the trees which were planted close to the house, forced the branches in. Such was, in a few words, Soyer’s House, in Cambridge-street, Scutari, so much envied by almost all, except the man himself. Five of my people had kept possession in spite of several attempts to take it by storm during my absence. It appeared that lodgings were so scarce, they wanted to take it from them.
One evening, after supper, my man Jullien, who possessed a first-rate tenor voice, was delighting us with the modulations of it, when suddenly the house began to shake most awfully, and the branches of the trees outside the windows entered very abruptly, and much farther than usual, sweeping off all the goblets and bottles from the table, to our great astonishment, nearly upsetting us; when our friend P. M. exclaimed, “Who is shaking the house?” Jullien, who had travelled much, replied, “Don’t be alarmed—it is only an earthquake.”