The coast on
which Nicolou was running his vessel was somewhere, I fancy, at the
foot of the Anzairie Mountains, and the fellows who were preparing
to give him a reception were probably very rough specimens of
humanity. It is likely enough that they might have given
themselves the trouble of putting "the Admiral" to death, for the
purpose of simplifying their claim to the vessel and preventing
litigation, but the notion of their cannibalism was of course
utterly unfounded. Nicolou's terror had, however, so graven the
idea on his mind, that he could never afterwards dismiss it.
Having once determined the character of his expectant hosts, the
Admiral naturally thought that it would he better to keep their
dinner waiting any length of time than to attend their feast in the
character of a roasted Greek, so he put about his vessel, and
tempted the deep once more. After a further cruise the lonely
commander ran his vessel upon some rocks at another part of the
coast, where she was lost with all her treasures, and Nicolou was
but too glad to scramble ashore, though without one dollar in his
girdle. These adventures seem flat enough as I repeat them, but
the hero expressed his terrors by such odd terms of speech, and
such strangely humorous gestures, that the story came from his lips
with an unfailing zest, so that the crew, who had heard the tale so
often, could still enjoy to their hearts' content the rich fright
of the Admiral, and still shuddered with unabated horror when he
came to the loss of the dollars.
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