Tricolor, which, with the Turkish blood-red flag, formed a handsome
canopy at the head of the table. The ambassador and the captain lent
their plate, and the ship's cooks were put under the orders of the
palace chef. The pieces montees, sweetmeats, &c. were under the
direction of the ambassador's Italian confectioner; the wines were
partly from the embassy cellar, and partly from the captain, and the
renowned Stampa of Galata. Plenty of volunteers from the marines and
sailors joined the ship's boys as attendants; so that altogether, the
affair was splendidly got up, and did honour to the British mids. Our
dinner was a capital one; for the cook, fired with national emulation,
surpassed all his previous efforts, and, in consequence, the table was
covered with the rarest delicacies that art and nature could supply; the
dessert consisted of all the rich and exquisite fruits which this sunny
clime and fertile soil produce in an almost endless variety; and of ices
and Champagne there was no lack. Twenty-six sat down to the sumptuous
repast; and when the cloth was removed, the wine circulated briskly,
while the bond of amity between the French and English sailor, was
strengthened by the interchange of many a loyal toast and happy
well-timed allusion to the brave and martial character of the two
nations; nor was music wanting to complete our joyous revelry: the whole
budget of lower deck songs was completely exhausted; the guests
contributing their quota of _chansons a boire_, &c. to the general
hilarity; and "God save the King" and "Rule Britannia" were succeeded by
the "Parisienne" and the "Marseilloise." Thus was the party bravely kept
up till about midnight, when twenty out of the number, though sailors,
were "half-seas over;" and though the sea was, in reality, as smooth as
a lake, they imagined themselves tossing in some heavy swell, bidding
their companions remark how dreadfully the ship pitched and rolled, and
declaring unanimously that a retreat into the hammocks was next to an
impossibility. Three of our ancient and hereditary foes were borne (not
steadily, I trow) to the ship's side, and gently lowered from the
gangway, 'mid tears of joy; dead,--but not from piercing of cruel shot,
nor from "ghastly wound of glittering steel:" no, they were laid
prostrate by rapid discharges from the circling bottle, and the
overpowering draughts of glorious red hot "bishop." Being at length all
safely stowed in the Actaeon's jolly-bo