The fierce Hydriot advances one
step nearer to the captain, and the angry growl of the people goes
floating down the wind, but they listen; they waver once more, and
once more resolve, then waver again, thus doubtfully hanging
between the terrors of the storm and the persuasion of glorious
speech, as though it were the Athenian that talked, and Philip of
Macedon that thundered on the weather-bow.
Brave thoughts winged on Grecian words gained their natural mastery
over terror; the brigantine held on her course, and reached smooth
water at last. I landed at Limasol, the westernmost port of
Cyprus, leaving the vessel to sail for Larnaka, where she was to
remain for some days.
CHAPTER VII--CYPRUS
There was a Greek at Limasol who hoisted his flag as an English
vice-consul, and he insisted upon my accepting his hospitality.
With some difficulty, and chiefly by assuring him that I could not
delay my departure beyond an early hour in the afternoon, I induced
him to allow my dining with his family instead of banqueting all
alone with the representative of my sovereign in consular state and
dignity. The lady of the house, it seemed, had never sat at table
with an European.
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