ATHENS
We waited for daybreak to enter the narrow port of Piræus. The Russian
military agent, Baron Traubenberg, came to meet us in a launch belonging
to a Russian man-of-war, in which we went over to the landing-stage, and
then up to Athens by train. The journey was a short one, we got there in
twenty minutes. The country is unattractive, deprived of vegetation and
looking fearfully burnt up; the prevalent colour is sandy-yellow.
We had but little time for sight-seeing at Athens, the “Tzar” remaining
at anchor only till night. The dusty streets, the want of water and the
poverty of the population left a disagreeable impression upon me, and the
heat was intense. We were nearly roasted alive by the scorching sun. When
passing before the Royal Palace, we were amazed by the simplicity of the
railing surrounding it. In the absence of the Royal family the people are
allowed to go into the palace, and a lackey offered to escort us over it.
The state apartments are worth showing, but the upper suits of rooms are
of Spartan simplicity. After having visited the Temple of Theseus, we
drove up a long steep hill fringed with spiky cactus plants, leading to
the Acropolis, the citadel of ancient Athens, which dominates the whole
town.
When we returned to our ship we found new passengers: Lady Denmore, the
wife of a high British dignitary, whom she was going to rejoin in India,
and a pleasant American pair—Mr. and Mrs. Holland—elderly, childless
people, talking with a strong American accent. They were going to Cairo.
In the night the sea grew rough, and we were tossed about during two
days. On the third day we entered the African waters and perceived a
yellow band of sand; birds, forerunners of land, were flying over our
ship, and soon the outlines of the port and the mosques of Alexandria
came in view.