sangaree

There was something in the taste of the sangaree that Flora did not like—a flavor that was not of wine.

“Then Sangaree Jack proved faithful, and told you the position in which we have been placed,” said Higson.

“Like it all the better,” rejoined the major, with his head again half buried in the sangaree glass.

And a steam from the sangaree rose high over Napoleon's head, and from it shaped themselves two beautiful female figures.