“God bless me, my son, are you Monsieur Soyer of whom I heard so much in Jamaica? Well, to be sure! I have sold many and many a score of your Relish and other sauces--God knows how many.”
“My dear lady,” said I, “don’t blame me for that; I assure you I am not at all offended with you for so doing, and shall allow you to sell as much more in the Crimea.”
“So I would if I could only get them. Bless me, I had a gross about ten days ago, and they are all gone; nor can I get any more for another month perhaps. Come down, my son, and take a glass of champagne with my old friend, Sir John Campbell.”
I immediately alighted, and Sir John came towards me and shook me heartily by the hand, saying, “Welcome to the seat of war, Monsieur Soyer!”
“Many thanks, general, for your kind wishes. I had the pleasure of leaving my card at Cathcart’s Hill the other day.”
“You did; and I was very sorry that I was out when you called; but mind, you must come and dine with me some day.”
“Thank you, general, I shall do myself the honour.”
“Now, Mrs. Seacole, give us another bottle of champagne.”
“Mrs. Seacole,” I exclaimed; “is that lady the celebrated Mrs. Seacole?”
She then came forth from her bivouac cellar, with two bottles in her hands, exclaiming, “I shall stand mine, and no mistake.”
We all declared it would never do for a lady to stand treat in the Crimea.
“Lord bless you, Monsieur Soyer,” said the lady, “don’t you know me?”
“Well, all those fine fellows you see here are my Jamaica sons--are you not?” said she, opening the champagne, and addressing the general.
“We are, Mrs. Seacole, and a very good mother you have been to us.”
“I have known you, general, for many years.”
We emptied our glasses, and returned the compliment. The general then left, again expressing his desire to see me at Cathcart’s Hill.
“Walk inside, walk inside, my sons; you will be better there--it is not so hot. Go in, Monsieur Soyer.”
No sooner had we entered than the old lady expressed her desire to consult me about what she should do to make money in her new speculation, in which she had embarked a large capital, pointing to two iron houses in course of construction on the other side of the road. She told me that her intention was to have beds there for visitors, which I persuaded her not to do, saying, “All the visitors--and they are few in number--sleep on board the vessels in the harbour, and the officers under canvass in the camp. Lay in a good stock of hams, wines, spirits, ale and porter, sauces, pickles, and a few preserves and dry vegetables--in short, anything which will not spoil by keeping.”