Our cook Christo had also received letters which
disconcerted him. After dinner at about 8.30 P.M. he suddenly appeared
at the tent door with a very large breakfast-cup in his hand. "I beg
your pardon, sir, but I'm sorry to say my mother has just fallen down
and broken her leg!" was his first announcement; and he continued, "she
is an old woman, past fifty, sir, and a broken leg is a very bad thing;
I have come to ask for some brandy, and I've brought a cup."
"Your mother broken her leg, Christo? Why, where is she?" I replied.
"She is at Athens, sir, and I want a drop of brandy, as I have just
received the letter, and I am very anxious about her."
I now discovered that the brandy was not intended for his mother's leg,
but for his own stomach, to comfort his nerves and to allay his filial
anxiety. He had a good dose that quickly restored his usual spirits, as
I heard him relating stories in the servants' tent which created roars
of laughter.
Christo was an excellent, hard-working fellow, who having passed his
life at sea, was exceedingly handy, and combined the usual good
qualities of a sailor with the art of cookery and a certain knowledge
which enabled him to act as interpreter.
