CHAPTER XXVIII.

KARUBIEH AND MAZOTOS.

When we left Amathus, our road lay over a barren mountainous tract,

entirely destitute of every charm, but as we reached Cape Karubieh, a

scene of great beauty opened up from the left to our view. Before us

lay a little town, looking as fresh and bright as if but quite recently

built, with houses that appeared much more stately and substantial than

any I had yet seen in Cyprus. To our surprise these attractive-looking

residences were closed and untenanted, and not a human creature was

to be seen, except a solitary negro at a small inn where we got a

cup of coffee. I afterwards learnt that the inhabitants of Karubieh,

which number about one thousand only, return to their homes in August.

At this season many ships anchor here to take in large cargoes of

fruit for Trieste, Marseilles, Smyrna, Odessa, and St. Petersburg.

The fields, from which all this superabundant harvest is produced,

cover all the declivities of the sea-shore from Limasol to Mazotos.

The once despised carob-tree (Ceratonia siliqua) is now much esteemed,

and the fruit, which was formerly only used either as food for cattle,

or occasionally eaten during seasons of fasting, has become of great

value. Of late years it has been discovered that the fruit is highly

valuable for the making of excellent brandy, and the tree is therefore

cultivated throughout this district with the utmost assiduity. About

April the branches are lopped off; numerous shoots from fruitful trees

are grafted on the trunks, and in a very short space of time the tree

is covered with succulent pods. I mention this interesting fact, to

prove of what this once fertile island is capable, when its products

receive the necessary attention. In this instance, as in many others,

gold is literally lying on the ground in Cyprus, ready to be picked up

by those who have enterprise and energy.

Our road from Cape Karubieh presented nothing of interest. The

mountains gradually receded inland, and the eye found nothing to

relieve the monotony of the bare expanse of coast, until at length our

further progress in a direct line was stopped by a rocky promontory,

which projected far into the sea. We were now obliged to turn inland,

and soon reached higher ground, from whence we once more obtained a

good view of the purple and deep blue mountains, and could see their

tints gradually deepen under the shadow of approaching night. It was

late before we reached Mazotos, and I at once endeavoured to obtain

a lodging, in the house of some well-to-do farmer, from whom I might

hope to learn many interesting particulars concerning the manners and

customs of the people. As we entered the town, I observed a court-yard

leading from a stable to a small house within. At the left-hand side

was a flight of stone steps, conducting to an upper chamber, which, it

being harvest time, was now filled with corn.

Opposite this was the large roomy apartment, that served for living

and sleeping room to the whole family. The floor was covered with

tiles, and the room divided in the centre by an arch. A stone ledge

of imposing appearance projected from one of the walls, and was well

garnished with household utensils, whilst upon the whitewashed walls,

hung the clothes, nets, hammocks, and long baskets belonging to the

family. Large pitchers of red clay, and numerous calabashes, stood

about, filled with bread, eggs, fruit, maize, and vegetables. The

kitchen was outside in the yard, and I could not avoid noticing the

cheerful alacrity and skill displayed by our worthy hostess, whilst

she prepared our evening meal. Servants she had none, everything in

the interior of the house being done by the members of the family,

whilst out of doors they were assisted about the farm and garden by day

labourers. In Cyprus, the soil is so light that a farmer will readily

plough over thirty acres of ground with one yoke of oxen, and see his

land reward his labours by bringing forth its fruits thirty fold. The

processes of sowing and reaping are equally carelessly performed,

and when this is over, but few farmers touch the fields again. For

this reason, without a farmer has really extensive property, he does

not incur the expense of board and wages to regular men. During the

harvest time a day labourer receives three shillings a day and three

meals. Should a farmer not be inclined to comply with their demands, he

will stand, as with us, a very good chance of having his corn spoilt,

before he can get it into his barns. At other seasons the men cannot

obtain more than from elevenpence to one shilling and threepence, and

the women from about fivepence to eightpence per day. Small as is the

sum, it amply suffices to provide all that the lower class Cypriotes

require, sleeping as they do for nine months of the year in the open

air. Food, such as they principally consume, is extremely cheap, and we

have it upon the authority of a gentleman who knows the island well,

Consul Lang, that a family of six persons can be maintained in perfect

health and activity on an allowance of forty pounds of flour and

three pounds of olives per week. In ordinary seasons the cost of this

quantity of provisions would not exceed three shillings and sixpence.

Cesnola mentions that he has frequently seen Greek priests in Cyprus

working in the fields like common peasants.

Contrary to all my experience in Cyprus, when we quitted the farmer’s

house, the worthy host at once complied with my request, that he would

make some charge for our accommodation. This I accounted for by the

fact, that the house standing on the highway between Limasol and

Larnaka, would probably attract the attention of more strangers than

could be comfortably entertained without proper remuneration. A present

to the poor, if your resting-place has been a convent, or a little

remembrance to the children of a family, is the most that is expected

throughout all those parts of the East through which I have travelled,

whilst should your entertainer be a man of position and means, you

cannot, without giving offence, do more than offer a “pour boire” to

the four or five men-servants who will appear at the door to see you

start.

Our last day’s journey, which was short but delightful, lay over a wide

tract of cornfields, in traversing which we passed the village of Kiti,

with its little church, embowered in fruit trees, and not far from it

another church standing on a piece of barren ground, without a shrub or

tree near it. On our left towered a magnificent mountain, which rises

abruptly to a height of two thousand feet, and bears upon its summit

the once celebrated monastery of the Holy Cross, or Hagios Stavros.

This building, which is rarely or never obscured by clouds or fog, can

be seen from a considerable distance at sea, and has long been known

to sailors as a landmark. St. Helena is supposed to have presented

this cloister with a valuable relic, which brought many pilgrims and

gifts to the brotherhood. This was a piece of wood, about as long

as a finger, fashioned like a cross, mounted in silver, and had the

reputation of being a veritable portion of the Saviour’s cross.

Whilst it was still light, we came in sight of Larnaka, the cornfields

were crowded with labourers gathering in the harvest, and these, being

principally Greeks, and therefore very conversational, we could hear

a lively hum of many voices long before we reached the spot. We dined

under the shadow of a large fig-tree, which grew upon the brink of a

rippling stream. Numerous cranes, and whole hosts of beccaficos, came

within such tempting reach of our guns, that, as soon as our repast

was over, we started after them, over fields where horses and camels

were grazing, and over marshy ground, until we reached the rolling,

glittering sea. Our sport was excellent, for my dragoman knew every

call and wile by which the birds could be allured, and it required some

determination when it was time to return, to quit our delightful but

peculiar shooting-ground.

On my return to Larnaka I had the luck to chance upon some dear

friends, with whom I supped. Our host produced the best his cellar

contained, in various sorts of wine, winding up with a bottle fifty

years old, most delicious, but so strong that discretion only permitted

us to taste it in thimblefuls.

Next day I paid many visits in the town, and was amused to find with

what astonishment the history of my little journey across the island

was received. I really believe that at that time there was not a single

person in the island who had seen as much of Cyprus as myself.

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