"Athens in six hours," Mr Smith observes, is rather quick work; but he nevertheless found he could see in that time nearly as much of it as he wished. The Scamandre allowed but a day, and certainly he made good use of the brief halt. At Athens, as in Switzerland and on the Rhine, he found the ubiquitous _Murray's Handbook_ the great authority and certificate of the native competitors for custom. A skirmish with clubs and boat-hooks--the former brought evidently in anticipation of the contest--took place amongst the fancy-ball-looking boatmen, in white petticoats and scarlet leggings, who crowded in light skiffs round the foot of the steamer's ladder. In the intervals of the fight a dialogue was carried on in English, more or less broken.
"'I say, sir! here, sir! Hotel d'Orient is the best. Here's the card, sir--old palace--Murray says ver good,' cried one of the costumes.
"'Hi!' screamed another; 'don't go with him, master--too dear! Come with me?'
"The parties were immediately engaged in single combat.
"'Hotel d'Angleterre à Athènes, tenu par Elias Polichronopulos et Yani Adamopulos,' shouted another, all in a breath. I copy the names from the card he gave me, for they were such as no one could remember.
"'Yes, sir; good hotel,' said his companion. 'Look in Murray, sir--page 24--there, sir; here, sir; look, sir!'
"'Who believes Murray?' asked a fellow in plain clothes, with a strong Irish accent.
"'You would, if he put your house in the Handbook,' replied another."
By considerable display of mental and physical energy, a few of the passengers at last got into a boat and gained the quay of the Piræus. _Grog's-shop_ was written on the shutter of a petty coffee-house, and a smart-looking Albanian stepped up, and proffered his services in excellent English. He had lived in London, he said: was a subject of Queen Victoria, and had the honour of being set down in Murray, page 25. With such recommendations, who could refuse the guidance of Demetri Pomorn? Not Mr Smith and his party, evidently, for they immediately engaged him for the day, hired a shabby vehicle from an adjacent cab-stand, and started on their hot and dusty road to Athens, thence about five miles distant. There they killed the lions, ate quince ices, bought Latakia tobacco, dined at the Hotel d'Orient _à l'Anglaise_, with Harvey sauce and pale ale, off English plates and dishes, and pulled on board again at night, to the tune of _Jim Crow_, played by an Anglified violin in one of the "grog's-shops" aforesaid. At five in the morning sleep was at an end, thanks to the clanking, stamping, and bawling upon the steamer's deck, and Mr Smith left the cabin, to reconnoitre and breathe fresh air. Some deck passengers had come on board at Athens; amongst others, a poor Albanian family, bound to Smyrna to pack figs. They were miserable, broken-spirited looking people, but picturesque in spite of their poverty; a melon or two and some coarse bread composed their entire stores for the voyage. This, however, was of no great duration, for at daybreak the next morning the passengers per Scamandre were told they were off Smyrna.