Land and Lee in the Bosphorus and Ægean; Or, Views of Athens and Constantinople

LAND AND LEE

IN THE

BOSPHORUS AND EGEAN.

CHAPTER I.

THE winds are high, and Helle's tide
Rolls darkly heaving to the main :
And night's descending shadows hide
That field with blood bedewed in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride;

The tombs, sole relics of his reign.

BYRON.

ENGLISH

SMYRNA AND THE CONSTELLATION-CONDITION ON BOARD AN
YACHT-STORM OFF METELIN-LOSS OF SPARS AND PROVISIONS-TENE-
DOS AND THE STRAND OF ILIUM-BEATING UP THE DARDANELLES-
SCENERY, TOWNS, AND FORTIFICATIONS OF THE SHORE-PASSAGE OF
LEANDER AND XERXES-PLINY'S AEROLITE-SEA OF MARMORA-FIRST
VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE—APPREHENSIONS ON LANDING A NIGHT
SCENE.

In the harbor of Smyrna, where it is the tradition of history that Homer was born, the United States frigate Constellation is riding quietly at her anchor. Brave hearts are beating within her ribs of oak, and in the ward-room we are eagerly casting about for the most feasible method of reaching Constantinople. As the route by land must be entirely ou horseback, exposed to a scorching sun, to the unceremonious

demands of outlaws, and without the comforts of a solitary hotel, we prefer a conveyance by water.

But the wind prevailing at this season of the year directly from that point in which our course lay, rendered it quite impossible for us to beat our ship up against the current of the Dardanelles. We therefore went on board a little cutter, maliciously called the Spitfire, which was once a barge belonging to a member of the English parliament from Liverpool; but which, by some strange vicissitude in the taste of the times, or the fortunes of its owner, has found its way to its present less elegant, but more serviceable employment.

Our company on this occasion consisted of Capt. Read with his lady, and eight or ten officers attached to the frigate. Our provisions having been taken on board, our anchor weighed, and our parting gun discharged, we made all sail to a stirring breeze, and passed quickly down the Gulf of Smyrna. We were all in a fine flow of spirits, especially the captain of the little craft, who, I presume, never before felt so fully the importance of his situation.

Nor was Bill, the cook, insensible of the increased dignity and responsibility of his occupation; but was ever and anon, as he counted over again the number to be fed, dropping some new article into the pot, which was now vigorously boiling in the caboose. It grieved me to see the ruthless manner in which he would ring the necks of the chickens.

Though naturally of a humane disposition, yet he was now so full of the "pomp and circumstance of office," that I really believe he would have sacrificed, without a sigh, a whole aviary of the most sweetly singing pets.

The contents of the pot which had now been for several hours in a state of violent ebullition, were at length turned into a common receiver, from which each one helped himself with a delightful self-appropriating privilege. The varieties it contained went far beyond those of the sea-pie, chowder, or even the inimitable lobscouse; I doubt, indeed, whether they have ever been equalled since the witches in Macbeth filled their capacious cauldron.

But Bill, who had been so successful as a cook, rather failed in the functions of a waiter; for as he cut the wires which confined the corks, the porter escaped with such a foaming vehemence, that very little of it was arrested by the goblet. His look, as he saw the beverage irrevocably escape, had a force of regret that reminded me of the anguish of one, who, on a different occasion, was witnessing with me the burning of a distillery.

This mill of delirium occupied a slight eminence close to a sheet of quiet water, with which it communicated by a precipitous channel. The whiskey, as the fire reached the long tiers of casks which held it, was at once kindled and released, and rushing down this channel overspread the little lake, and rose in a

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