Mother Charcoal was a stout but comely negress, hailing originally from Jamaica, who had come to Constantinople as stewardess in one of the transport-ships. Being of an enterprising nature, she had hastened to the seat of war and sunk all her ready-money in opening a canteen. She was soon very popular with the allied troops of every nationality and did a roaring trade.
"Some brandy—your best, my black Venus!" shouted Hyde.
"Who you call names? Me no Venus."
"Well, Mrs. Charcoal, then; that name suits your colour."
"What colour? You call me coloured? I no common nigger, let me tell you, sah; I a Georgetown lady. Me wash for officers' wives and give dignity-balls in my own home. Black Venus! Charcoal! You call me my right name. Sophimisby Cleopatra Plantagenet Sprotts: that my right name."
"Well, Mrs. S.C.P.S., I can't get my tongue round them all; fetch the brandy or send it. We will talk about your pedigree and Christian names some other time."
This chaffing colloquy had raised a general laugh and put Hyde on good terms with the company.
"What news from the front, sergeant?" asked one of the Land Transport Corps, a new comer.
"Nothing much on our side, except that they say there will be a new bombardment in a few days. But the French, were pretty busy last night, to judge from the firing."
"What was it?"