With one exception, our crew were "a solemn company," {12} and yet,
sometimes, when all things went well, they would relax their
austerity, and show a disposition to fun, or rather to quiet
humour. When this happened, they invariably had recourse to one of
their number, who went by the name of "Admiral Nicolou." He was
an amusing fellow, the poorest, I believe, and the least thoughtful
of the crew, but full of rich humour. His oft-told story of the
events by which he had gained the sobriquet of "Admiral" never
failed to delight his hearers, and when he was desired to repeat it
for my benefit, the rest of the crew crowded round with as much
interest as if they were listening to the tale for the first time.
A number of Greek brigs and brigantines were at anchor in the bay
of Beyrout. A festival of some kind, particularly attractive to
the sailors, was going on in the town, and whether with or without
leave I know not, but the crews of all the craft, except that of
Nicolou, had gone ashore. On board his vessel, however, which
carried dollars, there was, it would seem, a more careful, or more
influential captain, who was able to enforce his determination that
one man, at least, should be left on board.
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