"By thunder!" shouted the American, shaking himself up, as if at sea, with a suspicious sail in sight, "he is more than half right. Would you have thought it so late?"
"Even a Yankee, like Captain ——, a fair representative of the
'universal nation,' learns to dream and linger here," responded the Englishman, good-humoredly.
Upon this, I made use of the little knowledge I possessed of the Turkish, to interrogate our Caidjis respecting the time further required to reach our landing-place.
"Allah is great, and Mohammed is his Prophet!" was all I could fully apprehend of his slowly-delivered reply.
It was now the captain's turn to laugh, and as his sonorous peal rippled over the Marmora, he quietly insinuated his fore-finger and thumb into the disengaged palm of the devout Mussulman I had so touchingly adjured.
The only response of the devotee of the Prophet was a gutteral repetition of "Pekee! good! pekee! pekee!" But by an influence as effective as it was mysterious, our swan-like movement was exchanged for a most hope-encouraging velocity.
"Bravo!" exclaimed my lord.
"Bravissima!" intonated the Hun.
"Go it, boys!" shouted the "old salt."