Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Yussuf the Guide; or, the Mountain Bandits, being a Story of Adventure
in Asia Minor, by George Manville Fenn.
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Lawrence is a boy in his late teens, who has consumption, which makes
him feel very tired and helpless. He says one day that he would love a
holiday somewhere hot and sunny. He has no relations, but there is a
guardian, a local lawyer; and a doctor and a retired professor elect to
go to Turkey with him, to look at the antiquities.
They travel first to Greece, where they find a lot of dishonesty, in
particular in the crew of the little ship in which they sail to Turkey.
Luckily they had sent their luggage on ahead, but the experiences they
had were not very nice. They had already employed a very charming and
resourceful Turk as guide.
But when they get to Turkey, they find that as they travel inland people
become progressively less helpful, until eventually they are captured by
bandits, and a ransom is demanded. How do they get out of this? And is
Turkey still like this?
An exciting thriller. Recommended.
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YUSSUF THE GUIDE; OR, THE MOUNTAIN BANDITS, BEING A STORY OF ADVENTURE
IN ASIA MINOR, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
MEDICAL AND LEGAL.
"But it seems so shocking, sir."
"Yes, madam," said the doctor, "very sad indeed. You had better get
that prescription made up at once."
"And him drenched with physic!" cried Mrs Dunn; "when it doesn't do him
a bit of good."
"Not very complimentary to me, Mrs Dunn," said the doctor smiling.
"Which I didn't mean any harm, sir; but wouldn't it be better to let the
poor boy die in peace, instead of worrying him to keep on taking
physic?"
"And what would you and his friends say if I did not prescribe for him?"
"I should say it was the best thing, sir; and as to his friends, why, he
hasn't got any."
"Mr Burne?"
"What! the lawyer, sir? I don't call him a friend. Looks after the
money his poor pa left, and doles it out once a month, and comes and
takes snuff and blows his nose all over the room, as if he was a human
trombone, and then says, `hum!' and `ha!' and `send me word how he is
now and then,' and goes away."
"But his father's executor, Professor Preston?"
"Lor' bless the man! don't talk about him. I wrote to him last week
about how bad the poor boy was; and he came up from Oxford to see him,
and sat down and read something out of a roll of paper to him about his
dog."
"About his dog, Mrs Dunn?"
"Yes, sir, about his dog Pompey, and then about tombs--nice subject to
bring up to a poor boy half-dead with consumption! And as soon as he
had done reading he begins talking to him. You said Master Lawrence was
to be kept quiet, sir?"
"Certainly, Mrs Dunn."
"Well, if he didn't stand there sawing one of his hands about and
talking there, shouting at the poor lad as if he was in the next street,
or he was a hout-door preacher, till I couldn't bear it any longer, and
I made him go."
"Ah, I suppose the professor is accustomed to lecture."
"Then he had better go and lecture, sir. He sha'n't talk my poor boy to
death."
"Well, quiet is best for him, Mrs Dunn," said the doctor smiling at the
rosy-faced old lady, who had turned quite fierce; "but still, change and
something to interest him will do good."
"More good than physic, sir?"
"Well, yes, Mrs Dunn, I will be frank with you--more good than physic.
What did Mr Burne say about the poor fellow going to Madeira or the
south of France?"
"Said, sir, that he'd better take his Madeira out of a wine-glass and
his south of France out of a book. I don't know what he meant, and when
I asked him he only blew his nose till I felt as if I could have boxed
his ears. But now, doctor, what do you really think about the poor
dear? You see he's like my own boy. Didn't I nurse him when he was a
baby, and didn't his poor mother beg of me to always look after him?
And I have. Nobody can't say he ever had a shirt with a button off, or
a hole in his clean stockings, or put on anything before it was aired
till it was dry as a bone. But now tell me what you really think of
him."
"That I can do nothing whatever, Mrs Dunn," said the doctor kindly.
"Our London winters are killing him, and I have no faith in the south of
England doing any good. The only hope is a complete change to a warmer
land."
"But I couldn't let him go to a horrible barbarous foreign country,
sir."
"Not to save his life, Mrs Dunn?"
"Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" sighed the old lady. "It's very hard
when I'd lay down my life to save him, and me seeing him peek and pine
away and growing so weak. I know it was that skating accident as did
it. Him nearly a quarter of an hour under the ice, and the
receiving-house doctor working for an hour before he could bring him
to."
"I'm afraid that was the start of his illness, Mrs Dunn."
"I'm sure of it, doctor. Such a fine lad as he was, and he has never
been the same since. What am I to do? Nobody takes any interest in the
poor boy but me."
"Well, I should write at once to the professor and tell him that Mr
Lawrence is in a critical condition, and also to his father's executor,
Mr Burne, and insist upon my patient being taken for the winter to a
milder clime."
"And they won't stir a peg. I believe they'll both be glad to hear that
he is dead, for neither of them cares a straw about him, poor boy."
There had been a double knock while this conversation was going on in
Guildford Street, Russell Square, and after the pattering of steps on
the oil-cloth in the hall the door was opened, and the murmur of a gruff
voice was followed by the closing of the front door, and then a series
of three sounds, as if someone was beginning to learn a deep brass
instrument, and Mrs Dunn started up.
"It's Mr Burne. Now, doctor, you tell him yourself."
Directly after, a keen-eyed grey little gentleman of about fifty was
shown in, with a snuff-box in one hand, a yellow silk handkerchief in
the other, and he looked sharply about as he shook hands in a hurried
way, and then sat down.
"Hah! glad to see you, doctor. Now about this client of yours. Patient
I mean. You're not going to let him slip through your fingers?"
"I'm sorry to say, Mr Burne--"
"Bless me! I am surprised. Been so busy. Poor boy! _Snuff snuff
snuff_. Take a pinch? No, you said you didn't. Bad habit. Bless my
soul, how sad!"
Mr Burne, the family solicitor, jumped up when he blew his nose. Sat
down to take some more snuff, and got up again to offer a pinch to the
doctor.
"Really, Mr Burne, there is only one thing that I can suggest--"
"And that's what Mrs Dunn here told me."
There was a most extraordinary performance upon the nose, which made
Mrs Dunn raise her hands, and then bring them down heavily in her lap,
and exclaim:
"Bless me, man, don't do that!"
"Ah, Mrs Dunn," cried the lawyer; "what have you been about? Nothing
to do but attend upon your young master, and you've got him into a state
like this."
"Well of all--"
"Tut tut! hold your tongue, Mrs Dunn, what's gone by can't be recalled.
I've been very busy lately fighting a cousin of the poor boy, who was
trying to get his money."
"And what's the good of his money, sir, if he isn't going to live?"
"Tut tut, Mrs Dunn," said the lawyer, blowing his nose more softly,
"but he is. I telegraphed to Oxford last night for Professor Preston to
meet me here at eleven this morning. I have had no answer, but he may
come. Eccentric man, Mrs Dunn."
"Why you're never going to have him here to talk the poor boy to death."
"Indeed but I am, Mrs Dunn, for I do not believe what you say is
possible, unless done by a woman--an old woman," said the lawyer looking
at the old lady fixedly.
"Well I'm sure!" exclaimed Mrs Dunn, and the doctor rose.
"You had better get that prescription made up, Mrs Dunn, and go on as
before."
"One moment, doctor," said the lawyer, and he drew him aside for a brief
conversation to ensue.
"Bless me! very sad," said the lawyer; and then, as Mrs Dunn showed the
doctor out, the old gentleman took some more snuff, and then performed
upon his nose in one of the windows; opposite the fire; in one corner;
then in another; and then he was finishing with a regular coach-horn
blast when he stopped half-way, and stared, for Mrs Dunn was standing
in the doorway with her large florid cap tilted forward in consequence
of her having stuck her fingers in her ears.
"Could you hear me using my handkerchief, Mrs Dunn?" said the lawyer.
"Could I hear you? Man alive!" cried the old lady, in a tone full of
withering contempt, "could I hear _that_!"
CHAPTER TWO.
THE SECOND GUARDIAN.
"That!" to which Mrs Dunn alluded was a double knock at the front door;
a few minutes later the maid ushered in a tall broad-shouldered man of
about forty. His hair was thin upon the crown, but crisp and grizzled,
and its spareness seemed due to the fact that nature required so much
stuff to keep up the supply for his tremendous dark beard that his head
ran short. It was one of those great beards that are supposed to go
with the portrait of some old patriarch, and over this could be seen a
pair of beautiful large clear eyes that wore a thoughtful dreamy aspect,
and a broad high white forehead. He was rather shabbily dressed in a
pepper-and-salt frock-coat, vest, and trousers, one of which had been
turned up as if to keep it out of the mud while the other was turned
down; and both were extremely baggy and worn about the knees. Judging
from appearances his frock-coat might have been brushed the week before
last, but it was doubtful, though his hat, which he placed upon the
table as he entered, certainly had been brushed very lately, but the
wrong way.
He did not wear gloves upon his hands, but in his trousers pockets, from
which he pulled them to throw them in his hat, after he had carefully
placed two great folio volumes, each minus one cover, upon a chair, and
then he shook hands, smiling blandly, with Mrs Dunn, and with the
lawyer.
"Bless the man!" said Mrs Dunn to herself, "one feels as if one
couldn't be cross with him; and there's a button off the wrist-band of
his shirt."
"'Fraid you had not received my telegram, sir," said the lawyer in
rather a contemptuous tone, for Mrs Dunn had annoyed him, and he wanted
to wreak his irritation upon someone else.
"Telegram?" said the professor dreamily. "Oh, yes. It was forwarded to
me from Oxford. I was in town."
"Oh! In town?"
"Yes. At an hotel in Craven Street. I am making preparations, you
know, for my trip."
"No, I don't know," said the lawyer snappishly. "How should I know?"
"Of course not," said the professor smiling. "The fact is, I've been so
much--among books--lately--that--these are fine. Picked them up at a
little shop near the Strand. Buttknow's _Byzantine Empire_."
He picked up the two musty old volumes, and opened them upon the table,
as a blast rang out.
The professor started and stared, his dreamy eyes opening wider, but
seeing that it was only the lawyer blowing his nose, he smiled and
turned over a few leaves.
"A good deal damaged; but such a book is very rare, sir."
"My dear sir, I asked you to come here to talk business," said the
lawyer, tapping the table with his snuff-box, "not books."
"True. I beg your pardon," said the professor. "I was in town making
the final preparations for my departure to the Levant, and I did not
receive the telegram till this morning. That made me so late."
"Humph!" ejaculated the lawyer, and he took some more snuff.
"And how is Lawrence this morning?" said the professor in his calm, mild
way. "I hope better, Mrs Dunn."
"Bless the man! No. He is worse," cried Mrs Dunn shortly.
"Dear me! I am very sorry. Poor boy! I'm afraid I have neglected him.
His poor father was so kind to me."
"Everybody has neglected him, sir," cried Mrs Dunn, "and the doctor
says that the poor boy will die."
"Mrs Dunn, you shock me," cried the professor, with the tears in his
eyes, and his whole manner changing. "Is it so bad as this?"
"Quite, sir," cried the lawyer, "and I want to consult you as my
co-executor and trustee about getting the boy somewhere in the south of
England or to France."
"But medical assistance," said the professor. "We must have the best
skill in London."
"He has had it, sir," cried Mrs Dunn, "and they can't do anything for
him. He's in a decline."
"There, sir, you hear," said the lawyer. "Now, then, what's to be
done?"
"Done!" cried the professor, with a display of animation that surprised
the others. "He must be removed to a warmer country at once. I had no
idea that matters were so bad as this. Mr Burne, Mrs Dunn, I am a
student much interested in a work I am writing on the Byzantine empire,
and I was starting in a few days for Asia Minor. My passage was taken.
But all that must be set aside, and I will stop and see to my dear old
friend's son."
_Poo woomp poomp. Pah_!
Mr Burne blew a perfectly triumphal blast with his pocket-handkerchief,
took out his snuff-box, put it back, jumped up, and, crossing to where
the professor was standing, shook his hand very warmly, and without a
word, while Mrs Dunn wiped her eyes upon her very stiff watered silk
apron, but found the result so unsatisfactory that she smoothed it down,
and hunted out a pocket-handkerchief from somewhere among the folds of
her dress and polished her eyes dry.
Then she seemed as if she put a sob in that piece of white cambric, and
wrapped it up carefully, just as if it were something solid, doubling
the handkerchief over and over and putting it in her pocket before going
up to the professor and kissing his hand.
"Ha!" said the latter, smiling at first one and then the other. "This
is very good of you. I don't often find people treat me so kindly as
this. You see, I am such an abstracted, dreamy man. I devote myself so
much to my studies that I think of nothing else. My friends have given
me up, and--and I'm afraid they laugh at me. I am writing, you see, a
great work upon the old Roman occupation of--. Dear me! I'm wandering
off again. Mrs Dunn, can I not see my old friend's son?"
"To be sure you can, sir. Pray, come," cried the old lady; and, leading
the way, she ushered the two visitors out into the hall, the professor
following last, consequent upon having gone back to fetch the two big
folio volumes; but recollecting himself, and colouring like an ingenuous
girl, he took them back, and laid them upon the dining-room table.
Mrs Dunn paused at the drawing-room door and held up a finger.
"Please, be very quiet with him, gentlemen," she said. "The poor boy is
very weak, and you must not stay long."
The lawyer nodded shortly, the professor bent his head in acquiescence,
and the old lady opened the drawing-room door.
CHAPTER THREE.
A PLAN IS MADE.
As they entered, a pale attenuated lad of about seventeen, who was lying
back in an easy-chair, with his head supported by a pillow, and a book
in his hand, turned to them slightly, and his unnaturally large eyes had
in them rather a wondering look, which was succeeded by a smile as the
professor strode to his side, and took his long, thin, girlish hand.
"Why, Lawrence, my boy, I did not know you were so ill."
"Ill? Nonsense, man!" said the lawyer shortly. "He's not ill. Are
you, my lad?"
He shook hands rather roughly as he spoke from the other side of the
invalid lad's chair, while Mrs Dunn gave her hands an impatient jerk,
and went behind to brush the long dark hair from the boy's forehead.
He turned up his eyes to her to smile his thanks, and then laid his
cheek against the hand that had been smoothing his hair.
"No, Mr Burne, I don't think I'm ill," he said in a low voice. "I only
feel as if I were so terribly weak and tired. I get too tired to read
sometimes, and I never do anything at all to make me so."
"Hah!" ejaculated the lawyer.
"I thought it was the doctor come back," continued the lad. "I say, Mr
Preston--you are my guardian, you know--is there any need for him to
come? I am so tired of cod-liver oil."
"Yah!" ejaculated the lawyer; "it would tire anybody but a lamp."
He snorted this out, and then blew another blast upon his nose, which
made some ornament upon the chimney-piece rattle.
"Doctor?" said the professor rather dreamily, as he sat down beside the
patient. "I suppose he knows best. I did not know you were so ill, my
boy."
"I'm not ill, sir."
"But they say you are, my lad. I was going abroad; but I heard that you
were not so well, and--and I came up."
"I am very glad," said the lad, "for it is very dull lying here. Old
Dunny is very good to me, only she will bother me so to take more
medicine, and things that she says will do me good, and I do get so
tired of everything. How is the book getting on, sir?"
"Oh, very slowly, my lad," said the professor, with more animation. "I
was going abroad to travel and study the places about which I am
writing, but--"
"When do you go?" cried the lad eagerly.
"I was going within a few days, but--"
"Whereto?"
"Smyrna first, and then to the south coast of Asia Minor, and from
thence up into the mountains."
"Is it a beautiful country, Mr Preston?"
"Yes; a very wild and lovely country, I believe."
"With mountains and valleys and flowers?"
"Oh, yes, a glorious place."
"And when are you going?"
"I was going within a few days, my boy," said the professor kindly;
"but--"
"Is it warm and sunshiny there, sir?"
"Very."
"In winter?"
"Oh, yes, in the valleys; in the mountains there is eternal snow."
"But it is warm in the winter?"
"Oh, yes; the climate is glorious, my lad."
"And here, before long, the leaves will fall from that plane-tree in the
corner of the square, that one whose top you can just see; and it will
get colder, and the nights long, and the gas always burning in the
lamps, and shining dimly through the blinds; and then the fog will fill
the streets, and creep in through the cracks of the window; and the
blacks will fall and come in upon my book, and it will be so bitterly
cold, and that dreadful cough will begin again. Oh, dear!"
There was silence in the room as the lad finished with a weary sigh; and
though it was a bright morning in September, each of the elder
personages seemed to conjure up the scenes the invalid portrayed, and
thought of him lying back there in the desolate London winter, miserable
in spirit, and ill at ease from his complaint.
Then three of the four present started, for the lawyer blew a challenge
on his trumpet.
"There is no better climate anywhere, sir," he said, addressing the
professor, "and no more healthy spot than London."
"Bless the man!" ejaculated Mrs Dunn.
"I beg to differ from you, sir," said the professor in a loud voice, as
if he were addressing a class. "By the reports of the meteorological
society--"
"Hang the meteorological society, sir!" cried the lawyer, "I go by my
own knowledge."
"Pray, gentlemen!" cried Mrs Dunn, "you forget how weak the patient
is."
"Hush, Mrs Dunn," said the lad eagerly; "let them talk. I like to
hear."
"I beg pardon," said the professor; "and we are forgetting the object of
our visit. Lawrence, my boy, would you like to go to Brighton or
Hastings, or the Isle of Wight?"
"No," said the lad sadly, "it is too much bother."
"To Devonshire, then--to Torquay?"
"No, sir. I went there last winter, and I believe it made me worse. I
don't want to be always seeing sick people in invalid chairs, and be
always hearing them talk about their doctors. How long shall you be
gone, sir?"
"How long? I don't know, my lad. Why?"
The boy was silent, and lay back gazing out of the window in a dreamy
way for some moments before he spoke again, and then his hearers were
startled by his words.
"I feel," he said, speaking as if to himself, "as if I should soon get
better if I could go to a land where the sun shone, and the sea was
blue, and the sweet soft cool breezes blew down from the mountains that
tower up into the clear sky--where there were fresh things to see, and
there would be none of this dreadful winter fog."
The professor and the lawyer exchanged glances, and the latter took a
great pinch of snuff out of his box, and held it half-way up towards his
nose.
Then he started, and let it fall upon the carpet--so much brown dust,
for the boy suddenly changed his tone, and in a quick excited manner
exclaimed, as he started forward:
"Oh! Mr Preston, pray--pray--take me with you when you go."
"But, my dear boy," faltered the professor, "I am not going now. I have
altered my plans."
"Then I must stop here," cried the boy in a passionate wailing
tone--"stop here and die."
There was a dead silence once more as the lad covered his face with his
thin hands, only broken by Mrs Dunn's sobs as she laid her head upon
the back of the chair and wept aloud, while directly after Mr Burne
took out his yellow handkerchief, prepared for a blow, and finally
delivered himself of a mild and gentle sniff.
"Lawrence!"
It was the deep low utterance of a strong man who was deeply moved, and
as the boy let fall his thin white fingers from before his eyes he saw
that the professor was kneeling by his chair ready to take one of his
hands and hold it between his broad palms.
"Lawrence, my boy," he said; "your poor father and I were great friends,
and he was to me as a brother; your mother as a sister. He left me as
it were the care and charge of you, and it seems to me that in my
selfish studies I have neglected my trust; but, Heaven helping me, my
boy, I will try and make up for the past. You shall so with me, my dear
lad, and we will search till we find a place that shall restore you to
health and strength."
"You will take me with you?" cried the boy with a joyous light in his
eyes.
"That I will," cried the professor.
"And when?"
"As soon as you can be moved."
"But," sighed the lad wearily, "it will cost so much."
"Well?" said the professor, "What of that? I am not a poor man. I
never spend my money."
"Oh! if it came to that," said the lawyer, taking some more snuff and
snapping his fingers, "young Lawrence here has a pretty good balance
lying idle."
"Mr Burne, for shame!" cried Mrs Dunn; "here have I been waiting to
hear you speak, and you encourage the wild idea, instead of stamping
upon it like a black beadle."
"Wild idea, ma'am?" cried the lawyer, blowing a defiant blast.
"Yes, sir; to talk about taking that poor weak sickly boy off into
foreign lands among savages, and cannibals, and wild beasts, and noxious
reptiles."
"Stuff, ma'am, stuff!"
"But it isn't stuff, sir. The doctor said--"
"Hang the doctor, ma'am!" cried the lawyer. "The doctor can't cure him,
poor lad, so let's see if we can't do a little better."
"Why, I believe you approve of it, sir!" cried Mrs Dunn with a
horror-stricken look.
"Approve of it, ma'am? To be sure, I do. The very thing. Asia Minor,
didn't you say, Mr Preston?"
The professor bowed.
"Yes; I've heard that you get summer weather there in winter. I think
you have hit the right nail on the head."
"And you approve of it, sir?" cried the boy excitedly.
"To be sure, I do, my lad."
"It will kill him," said Mrs Dunn emphatically.
"Tchah! stuff and nonsense, ma'am!" cried the lawyer. "The boy's too
young and tough to kill. We'll take him out there and make a man of
him."
"We, sir?" exclaimed the professor.
"Yes, sir, we," said the lawyer, taking some more snuff, and dusting his
black waistcoat. "Hang it all! Do you think you are the only man in
England who wants a holiday?"
"I beg your pardon," said the professor mildly; "of course not."
"I haven't had one worth speaking of," continued Mr Burne, "for
nearly--no, quite thirty years, and all that time I've been in dingy
stuffy Sergeant's Inn, sir. Yes; we'll go travelling, professor, and
bring him back a man."
"It will kill him," cried Mrs Dunn fiercely, and ruffling up and coming
forward like an angry hen in defence of her solitary chick, the last the
rats had left.
The lawyer sounded his trumpet, as if summoning his forces to a charge.
"I say he shall not go."
"Mrs Dunn," began the professor blandly.
"Stop!" cried the lawyer; "send for Doctor Shorter."
"But he has been, sir," remonstrated Mrs Dunn.
"Then let him come again, ma'am. He shall have his fee," cried the
lawyer; "send at once."
Mrs Dunn's lips parted to utter a protest, but the lawyer literally
drove her from the room, and then turned back, taking snuff
outrageously, to where the professor was now seated beside the sick lad.
"That's routing the enemy," cried the lawyer fiercely. "Why, confound
the woman! She told me that the doctor said he ought to be taken to a
milder clime."
"But do you really mean, Mr Burne, that, supposing the doctor gives his
consent, you would accompany us abroad?"
"To be sure I do, sir, and I mean to make myself as unpleasant as I can.
I've a right to do so, haven't I."
"Of course," said the professor coldly.
"And I've a right to make myself jolly if I like, haven't I, sir?"
"Certainly," replied the professor, gazing intently at the fierce
grizzled little man before him, and wondering how much he spent a-year
in snuff.
"It will not cost you anything, and I shall not charge my expenses to
the estate, any more than I shall let you charge yours, sir."
"Of course not, sir," said the professor more coldly still, and
beginning to frown.
"You shall pay your expenses, I'll pay mine, and young Lawrence here
shall pay his; and I tell you what, sir, we three will have a thoroughly
good outing. We'll take it easy, and we'll travel just where you like,
and while you make notes, Lawrence here and I will fish and run about
and catch butterflies, eh? Hang it, I haven't caught a butterfly these
three or four and thirty years, and I think it's time I had a try. Eh,
what are you laughing at, sir?"
Lawrence Grange's laugh was low and feeble, but it brightened up his sad
face, and was contagious, for it made the professor smile as well. The
cold stern look passed away, and he held out his hand to the lawyer.
"Agreed, sir," he said. "If the doctor gives his consent, we will all
three go, and, please Heaven, we will restore our young friend here his
health and strength."
"Agreed, sir; with the doctor's consent or without," cried the lawyer,
grasping the extended hand. "By George, we must begin to make our
preparations at once! and as for the doctor--Oh, here he is!"
For there was a double knock, and directly after Mrs Dunn, appearing
very much agitated, ushered in the doctor, who did not look quite so
cool as he did when he left.
"Oh!" he ejaculated, "I was afraid from Mrs Dunn's manner that
something was wrong."
"No, doctor, nothing," said the lawyer. "We only want to ask you what
you think of our young friend here being taken to spend the winter in
Turkey."
"Admirable!" said the doctor, "if it could be managed."
"Oh, Doctor Shorter!" wailed Mrs Dunn, "I thought you would stop this
mad plan."
"There, madam, there!" cried the lawyer; "what did I say?"
"But he is not fit to move," cried Mrs Dunn, while the boy's cheeks
were flushed, and his eyes wandered eagerly from speaker to speaker.
"Only with care," said the doctor. "I should not take a long sea trip,
I think; but cross to Paris, and then go on gently, stopping where you
pleased, to Brindisi, whence the voyage would be short."
"The very thing!" cried the lawyer, giving one emphatic blow with his
nose. "What do you say, professor?"
"It is the plan I had arranged if I had gone alone," was the reply; "and
I think if Doctor Shorter will furnish us with the necessary
medicines--"
"He requires change more than medicines," said the doctor. "Care
against exertion, and--there, your own common sense will tell you what
to do."
"Doctor! doctor! doctor!" sobbed Mrs Dunn; "I didn't think it of you.
What's to become of me?"
"You, madam?" replied the doctor. "You can read and write letters to
our young friend here, and thank Heaven that he has friends who will
take him in charge and relieve him from the risk of another winter in
our terrible climate."
"Hear, hear!" and "No, no!" cried the lawyer. "Doctor Shorter, ours is
not a bad climate, and I will not stand here and listen to a word
against it. Look at me, sir! Thirty years in Sergeant's Inn--fog,
rain, snow, and no sunshine; and look at me, sir--look at me!"
"My dear sir," said the doctor smiling, "you know the old saying about
one man's meat being another man's poison? Suppose I modify my remark,
and say terrible climate for our young friend. You are decided, then,
to take him?"
"Certainly," said the professor.
"To Turkey?"
"Turkey in Asia, sir, where I propose to examine the wonderful ruins of
the ancient Greek and Roman cities."
"And hunt up treasures of all kinds, eh?" said the doctor smiling.
"I hope we may be fortunate enough to discover something worthy of the
search."
"But, let me see--the climate; great heat in the plains; intense cold in
the mountains; fever and other dangers. You must be careful, gentlemen.
Brigands--real brigands of the fiercest kind--men who mean heavy
ransoms, or chopped-off heads. Then you will have obstinate Turks,
insidious and tricking Greeks, difficulties of travel. No child's play,
gentlemen."
"The more interest, sir," replied the professor, "the greater change."
"Well," said the doctor, "I shall drop in every day till you start, and
be able to report upon our friend's health. Now, good day."
The doctor left the room with Mrs Dunn, and as he went out Mr Burne
blew a flourish, loud enough to astonish the professor, who wondered how
it was that so much noise could be made by such a little man, till he
remembered the penetrating nature of the sounds produced by such tiny
creatures as crickets, and then he ceased to be surprised.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A VERBAL SKIRMISH.
It seemed wonderful: one day in London, then the luggage all ticketed,
the young invalid carefully carried by a couple of porters to a
first-class carriage, and seated in a snug corner, when one of them
touched his cap and exclaimed:
"Glad to see you come back, sir, strong enough to carry me. Pore young
chap!" he said to his mate; "it do seem hard at his time o' life."
"Hang the fellow!" cried the lawyer; "so it does at any time of life. I
don't want to be carried by a couple of porters."
Then there was a quick run down to Folkestone, with the patient tenderly
watched by his two companions, the professor looking less eccentric in
costume, for he had trusted to his tailor to make him some suitable
clothing; but the lawyer looking more so, for he had insisted upon
retaining his everyday-life black frock-coat and check trousers, the
only change he had made being the adoption of a large leghorn straw hat
with a black ribbon; on the whole as unsuitable a costume as he could
have adopted for so long a journey.
"But I've got a couple of Holland blouses in one of my portmanteaus," he
said to Lawrence, "and these I shall wear when we get into a hotter
country."
At Folkestone, Lawrence showed no fatigue; on the contrary, when the
professor suggested staying there for the night he looked disappointed,
and begged that they might cross to Boulogne, as he was so anxious to
see France.
Judging that it was as well not to disappoint him, and certainly
advisable to take advantage of a lovely day with a pleasant breeze for
the crossing, the professor decided to proceed--after a short
conversation between the two elders, when a little distant feeling was
removed, for the professor had felt that the lawyer was not going to
turn out a very pleasant travelling companion.
"What do you think, sir?" he had said to the fierce-looking little man,
who kept on attracting attention by violently blowing his nose.
"I'll tell you what I think, professor," was the reply. "It seems to me
that the boy is a little sore and upset with his parting from his old
nurse. Milk-soppish, but natural to one in his state. He wants to get
right away, so as to forget the trouble in new impressions. Then, as
you see, the journey so far has not hurt him, and he feels well enough
to go on. Sign, sir, that nature says he is strong enough, so don't
thwart him. Seems to me, sir--_snuff, snuff, snuff_--that the way to do
him good is to let him have his own way, so long as he doesn't want to
do anything silly. Forward!"
So they went forward, a couple of the steamer's men lifting Lawrence
carefully along the gangway and settling him in a comfortable part of
the deck, which he preferred to going below; and ten minutes later the
machinery made the boat quiver, the pier seemed to be running away, and
the professor said quietly: "Good-bye to England."
The sea proved to be more rough than it had seemed from the pier, and,
out of about seventy passengers, it was not long before quite sixty had
gone below, leaving the deck very clear; and the professor, who kept
walking up and down, while the lawyer occupied a seat near Lawrence,
kept watching the invalid narrowly.
But there was no sign of illness. The lad looked terribly weak and
delicate, but his eyes were bright, and the red spots on his cheeks were
unchanged.
"I say, Preston," said the lawyer, when they had been to sea about a
quarter of an hour, "you look very pale: if you'd like to go below I'll
stay with him."
"Thanks, no," was the reply; "I prefer the deck. How beautiful the
chalky coast looks, Lawrence!"
"Yes, lovely," was the reply; "but I was trying to look forward to see
France. I want to see health. Looking back seems like being ill."
The professor nodded, and said that the French coast would soon be very
plain, and he stalked up and down, a magnificent specimen of humanity,
with his great beard blown about by the wind, which sought in vain to
play with his closely-cut hair.
"I'm sure you had better go below, professor. You look quite white,"
said the lawyer again; but Mr Preston laughed.
"I am quite well," he said; and he took another turn up and down to look
at the silvery foam churned up by the beating paddles.
"Look here!" cried the lawyer again, as the professor came and stood
talking to Lawrence; "had you not better go down?"
"No. Why go down to a cabin full of sick people, when I am enjoying the
fresh air, and am quite well?"
"But are you really quite well?"
"Never better in my life."
"Then it's too bad, sir," cried the lawyer. "I've been waiting to see
you give up, and if you will not, I must, for there's something wrong
with this boat."
"Nonsense! One of the best boats on the line."
"Then, there's something wrong with me. I can't enjoy my snuff, and
it's all nonsense for this boy to be called an invalid. I'm the
invalid, sir, and I am horribly ill. Help me below, there's a good
fellow."
Mr Burne looked so deplorably miserable, and at the same time so comic,
that it was impossible to avoid smiling, and as he saw this he stamped
his foot.
"Laughing at me, eh? Both of you. Now, look here. I know you both
feel so poorly that you don't know what to do, and I'll stop up on deck
and watch you out of spite."
"Nonsense! I could not help smiling," said the professor
good-humouredly. "Let me help you down."
"Thank you, no," said the lawyer taking off his hat to wipe his moist
brow, and then putting it on again, wrong way first. "I'm going to stop
on deck, sir--to stop on deck."
He seemed to be making a tremendous effort to master the qualmish
feeling that had attacked him, and in this case determination won.
A night at Boulogne, and at breakfast-time next morning Lawrence seemed
no worse for the journey, so they went on at once to Paris, where a
day's rest was considered advisable, and then, the preliminaries having
been arranged, the train was entered once more, and after two or three
stoppages to avoid over-wearying the patient, Trieste was reached, where
a couple of days had to be passed before the arrival of the steamer
which was to take them to Smyrna, and perhaps farther, though the
professor was of opinion that it might be wise to make that the
starting-place for the interior.
But when the steamer arrived a delay of five days more ensued before a
start was made; and all this time the invalid's companions watched him
anxiously.
It was in these early days a difficult thing to decide, and several
times over the professor and Mr Burne nearly came to an open rupture--
one sufficiently serious to spoil the prospects of future friendly
feeling.
But these little tiffs always took place unknown to Lawrence, who
remained in happy ignorance of what was going on.
The disagreements generally happened something after this fashion.
Lawrence would be seated in one of the verandahs of the hotel enjoying
the soft warm sea-breeze, and gazing out at the scene glowing in all the
brightness of a southern sun, when the old lawyer would approach the
table where, out of the lad's sight and hearing, the professor was
seated writing.
The first notice the latter had of his fellow-traveller's approach would
be the loud snapping of the snuff-box, which was invariably followed by
a loud snuffling noise, and perhaps by a stentorian blast. Then the
lawyer would lean his hand upon the table where the professor was
writing with:
"Really, my dear sir, you might put away your pens and ink for a bit.
I've left mine behind. Here, I want to talk to you."
The professor politely put down his pen, leaned back in his chair and
folded his arms.
"Hah! that's better," said Mr Burne. "Now we can talk. I wanted to
speak to you about that boy."
"I am all attention," said the professor.
"Well, sir, there's a good German physician here as well as the English
one. Don't you think we ought to call both in, and let them have a
consultation?"
"What about?" said the professor calmly.
"About, sir? Why, _re_ Lawrence."
"But he seems certainly better, and we have Doctor Snorter's remedies if
anything is necessary."
"Better, sir? decidedly worse. I have been watching him this morning,
and he is distinctly more feeble."
"Why, my dear Mr Burne, he took my arm half an hour ago, and walked up
and down that verandah without seeming in the least distressed."
"Absurd, sir!"
"But I assure you--"
"Tut, tut, sir! don't tell me. I watch that boy as I would an important
case in a court of law. Nothing escapes me, and I say he is much
worse."
"Really, I should be sorry to contradict you, Mr Burne," replied the
professor calmly; "but to me it seems as if this air agreed with him,
and I should have said that, short as the time has been since he left
home, he is better."
"Worse, sir, worse decidedly."
"Really, Mr Burne, I am sorry to differ from you," replied the
professor stiffly; "but I must say that Lawrence is, to my way of
thinking, decidedly improved."
"Pah! Tchah! Absurd!" cried the lawyer; and he went off blowing his
nose.
Another day he met the professor, who had just left Lawrence's side
after sitting and talking with him for some time, and there was an
anxious, care-worn look in his eyes that impressed the sharp lawyer at
once.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed; "what's the matter?"
The professor shook his head.
"Lawrence," he said sadly.
"Eh? Bless me! You don't say so," cried Mr Burne; and he hurried out
into the verandah, which was the lad's favourite place.
There Mr Burne stayed for about a quarter of an hour, and then went
straight to where the professor was writing a low-spirited letter to
Mrs Dunn, in which he had said that he regretted bringing Lawrence
right away into those distant regions, for though Trieste was a large
port, and there was plenty of medical attendance to be obtained, it was
not like being at home.
"I say! Look here!" cried Mr Burne, "you ought to know better, you
know."
"I do not understand you," replied the professor quietly.
"Crying wolf, you know. It's too bad."
"Really," said the professor, who was in one of his dreamy, abstracted
moods, "you are mistaken, Mr Burne. I did not say a word about a
wolf."
"Well, whoever said you did, man?" cried the lawyer impatiently as he
took out his snuff-box and whisked forth a pinch, flourishing some of
the fine dry dust about where he stood. "Can't you, a university man,
understand metaphors--shepherd boy calling wolf when there was nothing
the matter? The patient's decidedly better, sir."
"Really, Mr Burne--_er_--_tchishew_--_er_--_tchishew_!"
Old Mr Burne stood looking on, smiling grimly, as the professor had a
violent fit of sneezing, and in mocking tones held out his snuff-box and
said:
"Have a good pinch? Stop the sneezing. Ah! that's better," he added,
as the professor finished off with a tremendous burst. "Your head will
be clear now, and you can understand what I say. That boy's getting
well."
"I wish I could think so," said the professor, sniffing so very quietly
that, as if to give him a lesson, his companion blew off one of his
blasts, with the result that a waiter hurried into the room to see what
was wrong.
"Think? there is no occasion to think so. He is mending fast, sir; and
if you have any doubt about it, and cannot trust in the opinion of a man
of the world, go and watch him, and see how interested he seems in all
that is going on. Why, a fortnight ago he lay back in his chair
dreaming and thinking of nothing but himself. Now he is beginning to
forget that there is such a person. He's better, sir, better."
The fact was that the lawyer was right, and so was the professor, for at
that time Lawrence was as changeable of aspect as an April day, and his
friends could only judge him by that which he wore when they went to his
side.
At last the morning came when the steamer started for Smyrna, and the
pair were for once in a way agreed. They had been breakfasting with
Lawrence, noting his looks, his appetite, listening to every word, and
at last, when he rose feebly, and went out into the verandah to gaze
down at the busy crowd of mingled European and Eastern people, whose
dress and habits seemed never tiring to the lad, the lawyer turned to
the professor and exclaimed:
"You did not say a word to him about sailing to-day."
"No. Neither did you."
"Well, why didn't you?"
"Because I thought that it seemed useless, and that we had better stay."
"Well, I don't often agree with you, professor, but I must say that I do
to-day. The boy is not equal to it. But he is better."
"Ye-es," said the professor. "I think he is better."
Just then Lawrence returned from the verandah, looking flushed and
excited.
"Why, the Smyrna boat sails to-day, Mr Preston," he exclaimed. "One of
the waiters has just told me. Hadn't we better get ready at once?"
"Get ready?" said the professor kindly. "We thought that perhaps we had
better wait for the next boat."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lawrence, with his countenance changing. "I shall be so
disappointed. I felt so much better too, and I've been longing to see
some of the Grecian isles."
"Do you really feel yourself equal to the journey, my dear boy?" said
the professor.
"Oh yes. I don't know when I have felt so well," said Lawrence eagerly.
"Bless my soul!" cried the old lawyer, opening and shutting his
snuff-box as if for the purpose of hearing it snap, and sending the fine
dust flying, "what a young impostor you are! Here, let's get our bill
paid, and our traps on board. There's no time to spare."
Lawrence's face brightened again, and he left the room.
"Tell you what, professor," said Mr Burne, "you and I have been ready
to quarrel several times over about what we do not understand. Now,
look here. I want to enjoy this trip. What do you say to burying the
hatchet?"
"Burying the hatchet? Oh! I see. Let there be peace."
"To be sure," cried the lawyer, shaking hands warmly, "and we'll keep
the fighting for all the Greeks, Turks, brigands, and the like who
interfere with us."
"With all my heart," said the professor smiling; but Mr Burne still
lingered as if he had something to say.
"Fact is," he exclaimed at last, "I'm a curious crotchety sort of
fellow. Had too much law, and got coated over with it; but I'm not bad
inside when you come to know me."
"I'm sure you are not, Burne," said the professor warmly; "and if you
come to that, I have spent so many years dealing with dead authors, and
digging up musty legends, that I am abstracted and dreamy. I do not
understand my fellow-men as I should, but really I esteem you very
highly for the deep interest you take in Lawrence."
"That's why I esteem you, sir," said the lawyer; "and--no, I won't take
any more snuff now; it makes you sneeze. There, be off, and get ready
while I pay the bills."
That evening, in the golden glow of the setting sun, they set sail for
Smyrna.
CHAPTER FIVE.
SOME FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.
It was one bright morning, after a delightful passage, that the steamer
made its way into the port of Smyrna, where everything around seemed to
be full of novelty--strange craft manned by strange-looking crews, Turks
with white turbans, Turks with scarlet fezzes and baggy breeches, and
Turks with green turbans to show their reputation among their
compatriots. Greeks, too--small, lithe, dark men, with keen faces and
dark eyes, differing wonderfully from the calm, dignified, handsome
Turks, but handsome in their way if it had not been for a peculiarly
sharp, shifty expression that suggested craftiness and a desire to
overreach, if not cheat.
There was a constant succession of fresh sights, from the Turkish
man-of-war that was of British build, to the low fishing-boat with its
long graceful lateen sail, spread out upon its curved and tapering spar.
Ashore it was the same. The landing-place swarmed with fresh faces,
fresh scenes. Everything looked bright, and as if the atmosphere was
peculiarly clear, while the shadows were darker and sharper as they were
cast by the glowing sun.
For the sun did glow. The time was short since they had left England,
with symptoms coming on of falling leaves, lengthening nights, and
chills in the air, while here all was hot summer time, and one of the
first things Mr Burne said was:
"There's no mistake about it, I must have out a blouse."
They were soon comfortably settled in the best hotel, from whence the
professor decided to sally forth at once to call upon and deliver his
letters of recommendation to the British consul; but he was not fated to
go alone.
"I want to see everything and everybody," said Mr Burne, "and I'll go
with you. Look here, Lawrence, my boy, I would not get in the sun. I'd
go and lie down for an hour or two till we get back."
"The sun seems to give me strength," said Lawrence eagerly. "I have
seen so little of it in London. I want to go with you, please."
The professor darted a look at Mr Burne which seemed to say, "Let him
have his own way;" and the landlord having been consulted, a Greek guide
or dragoman was soon in readiness, and they started.
"Look here," said Mr Burne, taking hold of the professor's sleeve. "I
don't like the look of that chap."
"What, the guide?"
"Yes! I thought Greeks were nice straightforward chaps, with long noses
drawn down in a line from their foreheads, like you see in the British
Museum. That fellow looks as if he wouldn't be long in England before
he'd be looking at a judge and jury, and then be sent off to penal
servitude. Greek statues are humbug. They don't do the Greeks
justice."
"It does not matter as long as he does his duty by us for the short time
we are here. Be careful. He understands English."
"Well, I am careful," said Mr Burne; "and I'm looking after my
pocket-book, watch, and purse; and if I were you I should do the same.
He's a rogue, I'm sure."
"Nonsense!"
"'Tisnt nonsense, sir; you're too ready to trust everybody. Did you
hear his name?"
"I did," said Lawrence smiling. "Xenos Stephanos."
"Yes," grumbled Mr Burne. "There's a name. I don't believe any man
could be honest with a name like that."
The professor showed his white teeth as he laughed heartily, and Mr
Burne took snuff, pulled out a glaring yellow silk handkerchief, and
blew a blast that was like the snort of a wild horse.
It was done so suddenly that a grave-looking Turkish gentlemen in front
started and turned round.
"Well, what is it?" said Mr Burne fiercely. "Did you never see an
Englishman take snuff before?"
The Turk bowed, smiled, and continued his way.
"Such rudeness. Savages!" snorted out Mr Burne. "Don't believe they
know what a pocket-handkerchief is."
"I beg your pardon," said the Turk, turning round and smiling as he
spoke in excellent English, "I think you will find we do, but we have
not the use for them here that you have in England."
"I--er--er--er. Bless my soul, sir! I beg your pardon," cried the old
lawyer. "I did not know you understood English, or--"
"Pray, say no more, sir," said the Turkish gentleman gravely. And he
turned to cross the street.
"Snubbed! Deserved it!" cried Mr Burne, taking off his straw hat, and
doubling his fist, as if he were going to knock the crown out. "Let
this be a lesson to you, Lawrence. Bless me! Thought I was among
savages. Time I travelled."
"You forgot that you were still amongst steam, and post-offices, and
telegraph wires, and--"
"Bless me! yes," cried Mr Burne; "and, look there, an English name up,
and Bass's pale ale. Astonishing!"