t an invitation, obtained by Clayley,
to the tent of Major Twing, where they were--using Clayley's own
words--"to have a night of it."

After tattoo we set out for the major's marquee, which lay near the
centre of the islet, in a coppice of caoutchouc-trees. We had no
difficulty in finding it, guided by the jingling of glasses and the
mingling of many voices in boisterous laughter.

As we came near, we could perceive that the marquee had been enlarged by
tucking up the flaps in front, with the addition of a fly stretched over
an extra ridge-pole. Several pieces of rough plank, spirited away from
the ship, resting upon empty bread-barrels, formed the table. Upon this
might be recognised every variety of bottles, glasses, and cups. Open
boxes of sardines, piles of ship-biscuits, and segments of cheese filled
the intervening spaces. Freshly-drawn corks and glistening fragments of
lead were strewed around, while a number of dark conical objects under
the table told that not a few champagne bottles were already "down among
the dead men."

On each side of the table was a row of colonels, captains, subalterns,
and doctors seated without regard to rank or age, according to the order
in which they had "dropped in". There were also some naval officers,
and a sprinkling of strange, half-sailor-looking men, the skippers of
transport brigs, steamboats, etcetera; for Twing for a thorough
republican in his entertainments; besides, the _day_ levelled all
distinctions.

At the head of the table was the major himself, who always carried a
large pewter flask suspended from his shoulders by a green string, and
without this flask no one ever saw Major Twing. He could not have stuck
to it more closely had it been his badge of rank. It was not unusual,
on the route, to hear some wearied officer exclaim, "If I only had a
pull at old Twing's pewter!" and "equal to Twing's flask" was an
expression which stamped the quality of any liquor as superfine. Such
was one of the major's peculiarities, though by no means the only one.

As my friend and I made our appearance under the fly, the company was in
high glee, everyone enjoying himself with that freedom from restraint of
rank peculiar to the American army-service. Clayley was a great
favourite with the major, and at once caught his eye.

"Ha, Clayley! that you? Walk in with your friend. Find seats there,
gentlemen."

"Captain Haller--Major Twing," said Clayley, introducing me.