March to Podgoritza--An Albanian khan--Our cook--The Fund--Across the
lake--Night visitors--The frontier--Podgoritza-The armourer--The war
minister--Dobra Pushka.
Over our last glass of grog before turning in for the night, we had
determined to start at daybreak this morning. So abominable was the
weather, however, that we preferred to indulge in the comfort of our
beds a little longer. An unbroken mass of cloud covered the whole sky,
from which poured down a steady deluge, which had a deliberate look
about it, as if it had no intention of ceasing for a month at least.
Jones looked out of the window, scanned the horizon mournfully, and
remarking that he thought the rainy season would soon begin, got into
bed again.
At last we mustered courage enough to rise, ordered a substantial
breakfast, and sent the faithful Marco to saddle Rosso and Effendi.
When Rosso was brought in front of the hotel, he evidently objected to
standing out there in the rain while we breakfasted in comfort within;
so he walked into the room in which we sat, and made a very fair meal
off a deal box that stood in the corner. Our saddle-bags and blankets
were placed on the horses' backs, and the expedition started. Our
gendarme and landlord saw us well out of the town, where a stirrup-cup
was indulged in. We must have looked very imposing: first Marco in his
Arnaut dress, sheltering himself with a huge umbrella, the only article
of luggage he brought with him; then the two horses; and lastly, our
four selves.
All in top-boots--Jones, Brown, and myself well protected with hooded
military macintoshes we had bought in Turkey, while Robinson was
enveloped in a ponderous English yeomanry great-coat, which must have
weighed something when it was thoroughly soaked. Our rifles were slung
to our shoulders. Jones was the proud bearer of an Arnaut gun, of which
I shall have to say more anon. He also carried a pocket filter, slung
to his shoulders.
This day's journey was certainly not a pleasant one. The road from
Scutari to Podgoritza is not much of a road at the best of times; it is
a mere track. For the first day's march it traverses the plain which
borders the east shore of the lake.
This day it was difficult to know what was intended for lake, what for
road; it was all the same. The lake had the advantage, if anything, of
being the less muddy of the two. We were up to our knees in water all
day. I endeavoured to enter into conversation with Marco, and was
grieved to find he was a fraud. Yesterday, when we hired him, I spoke
to him in Italian and French, curiously mixed together; for I was told
he understood a little of both these languages. To everything I said he
replied briskly, _Ca bonne, monsor, ca bonne_. This is the man for
us, I said; he understands all I say. "Then he must, indeed, be a
wonderful man," my friends replied; "let us have him."
But alas! I now discovered that Marco's linguistic powers were very
limited. Give him an order; he never confessed to his absolute
ignorance of what you were talking about, but blithely came out with
his perpetual _ca bonne, ca bonne_, as if that was all that was
required of him. However, by degrees I discovered what words he knew of
French, what of Italian, and what of English (for he had even picked up
some words of our tongue when in the service of the commissioners).
With the addition of a few words of Sclav and Albanian, I then
manufactured a mongrel tongue, which was common to Marco and myself,
and utter gibberish to any one else. About midday we halted for lunch.
We stood up to our knees in mud and water under the pouring rain, ate
sausage, and each in turn made use of the filter, which was placed in
the muddy water of the road, while the purified fluid was sucked
through an indiarubber tube.
Marco was much astonished and pleased at this proceeding. A tot of rum
all round completed our modest repast. On the way we were joined by a
man who was also travelling to Podgoritza--a Montenegrin, on horseback.
Being alone, he was glad to join our party, well armed as we were, for
the Arnauts that inhabit the mountains that were to the right of us
have a bad name, and are much given to plundering travellers.
At last a large house rose before us. "That is the khan of Coplik,"
said Marco. "We must pass the night here, for the next house of any
kind is eight hours off."
We entered the khan, and found it to be a more luxurious place than we
expected to find. An upper room was given to us for our use. It had no
windows, but the rough stone wall and raftered roof admitted plenty of
daylight, not to mention rain and wind. The floor was also well
ventilated, as was the door that opened on the wooden gallery outside.
As Jones remarked, our chamber combined the comforts of a home with the
sanitary advantages of a hydropathic establishment. There was no
furniture of any kind, and the whole of the elegant chamber was
blackened with smoke. We soon spread our blankets, and made ourselves
very comfortable. We had brought some provisions with us, but Marco was
sent out in search of any dainty there might be in the establishment.
In a Turkish khan you are supplied with shelter and firing; bedding and
provisions you are supposed to bring with you.
The landlord, a grim-looking Arnaut, came in with Marco, and said he
could let us have two fowls, but would be pleased if we came out and
shot them. He evidently wished to see our weapons in use, so we
gratified him. Our Nimrod, Robinson, blew one rooster to pieces. Brown
was satisfied with knocking off the head of the other with a Winchester
bullet. (We were charged 5_d._ each for them.) A brazier of charcoal
was brought up to our room, and a large pot; whereupon Brown, taking
upon himself the office of cook, commenced to prepare our meal, and
very successful he was.
He cut up the fowls, and boiled them up with slices of sausage,
macaroni, grease-meal, salt, pepper, all from our commissariat bag. I
am not sure he did not even add some of the flea powder as seasoning.
We watched him hungrily and anxiously. Awful would have been his end
had he spoiled that dish. Wet through as we were, we thoroughly enjoyed
the meal, which we washed down with the rum we had brought with us, and
raki we bought from the khanji. Very contented and jovial I know we all
felt afterwards as we squatted round the fire on our blankets, smoking
our pipes and drinking our coffee. Marco too seemed to thoroughly
appreciate our cookery, and grinned happily for the rest of the day.
Our retiring for the night did not involve much preparation. To take
off one's boots and roll oneself up in one's blanket sufficed. Robinson
suggested that the door should be left open, as the fumes of the
charcoal fire might suffocate us in the night. Considering the number
and size of the orifices in roof and wall we thought this would be
excess of caution. The prudent Robinson had also heard many awful tales
of Eastern khans, and suggested that some one should remain awake. In
England, before starting on this expedition, we had determined to
station regular watches every night. Here was a good opportunity to
begin, but somehow no one seemed quite to see it; I think we were too
sleepy. One good and useful suggestion was, however, made. This was,
that when sleeping in perilous places we should keep Brown away from
his flea-powder. He would then of a certainty keep an admirable watch.
In the middle of the night a gruff and sleepy voice was heard to issue
from the blanket in which Jones was enveloped, "Bother that crumb."
"What is the matter?" we inquired. "There is a crumb in my bed," was
the reply. "It got under my side, and woke me up." On searching for the
crumb, Jones found it was his Colt revolver that had thus troubled his
sleep. We slept very well in spite of rain, wind, and insects, and were
up at daybreak, packing our baggage for the day's march.
As we gradually discovered each other's talents, we apportioned to each
his particular duty on the march or in the camp. Brown had displayed
such great culinary skill that we unanimously elected him _chef_ to the
expedition. As a branch of this important office, it was his province
to decide what vegetables and other comestibles should be purchased
when the commissariat bag was light. He was also a capital muleteer,
and would urge on our steeds, when lazily inclined, with considerable
results. Robinson was so occupied with the carriage of his weighty
rifle, that none of his talents had scope for manifestation on the
march. However, he was a wonderful man at packing the tent and baggage,
and so made himself very useful every morning in getting things in
order. Jones, the philosopher, was general supervisor of the others,
saw that all went well, and pensively looked on while others worked. On
me was inflicted the most arduous duty of all. I was dubbed the
Fund--that is, I was banker and paymaster. This office was conferred on
me in consideration of a certain smattering I had of the Latin tongues.
French and Italian are far more useful in Turkey than are any other
European languages. When we came across the Franciscan missionaries, in
the mountains, I conversed with these fluently and rapidly, in dog
Latin crossed with Italian--a language that would have much astonished
my masters at Westminster in the olden time.
There was one advantage in being Fund. Having command of the wealth of
the party, I was followed, flattered, and made much of by the others.
Later on, on our return journey across Europe, the office changed
hands. Brown became Fund, and the old Fund was neglected and forgotten
for the new--such are men.
This was a hard day's march. Our route for many hours lay across the
same little cultivated and monotonous plain. We saw but little game,
and that we could not get at. We caught glimpses occasionally of the
long line of the lake of Scutari, to the left of us; while on our
right, behind the rolling plains, rose the huge bare mountains of
Castrati. At last, as we approached the termination of the lake, the
flat country came to an end, and the mountains fell down to the edge of
the water. Our road now became exceedingly difficult, a mere goat-track
up and down the rugged hill side, now across _couloirs_ of _debris_,
as they call them in the Alps, now through jungles of thorn, and
now up almost perpendicular rocks. The rain had ceased, and the
sun was uncomfortably hot for such work as this. Our Montenegrin
fellow-traveller, who started with us this morning, dismounted from his
horse, and was obliged to push him bodily over the worst parts. We had
to keep a sharp eye on Rosso and Effendi; they slipped and stumbled
incessantly. Rosso proved to be the best mountaineer of the two.
Effendi was far less sure-footed. This little animal again was so well
fed that his circumference was a mathematical circle in form. Thus, as
he had none of the Rosinante-like angles of Rosso, which gave hold to
the strappings, his pack was continually twisting round and rolling
under him. At last, hot and thirsty, we reached a little plateau just
over the lake, where were pitched three or four tents, the quarters of
a small party of the most utterly miserable-looking Turkish soldiers I
had ever cast eyes upon. All were in rags. Their uniforms were
supplemented with some garments of the country. They were bare-footed,
or wore the native punkoa.
"What important garrison town may this be, Marco?" said Jones.
"_Ca bonne, monsor, ca bonne_," replied our grinning domestic. I
don't know whether the place has a name; I should say it had, being in
this country, where three houses constitute a town. There were three
officers here, who shared one miserable tent. The poor fellows had not
seen pay for a very long time. One, a Crimean medallist, a defender of
Kars, was down with fever badly. They invited us into their wretched
quarters, and ordered coffee for us. They had no sugar, but this we
were able to provide them with. We also had some cakes of chocolate,
which we presented to them, and which they seemed very glad to get.
They were fine-looking fellows, but all had that sad look which true
Turks wear in these latter days. With the aid of Marco as interpreter,
we were able to converse with them on various subjects. They seemed to
despair of their country, and, like all I met, put all the blame on the
evil system of government. They told us that a londra would be here
soon, bearing provisions from the fortress of Helm for this post. The
londra would then return, and we could go with it, thus saving
ourselves a five hours' very rough march. We gladly availed ourselves
of the offer, and waited for the arrival of the boat. We studied our
maps, and tried to make out where we were, and what branch of the lake
this might be which we were to traverse. The maps on this occasion, as
on all others, gave no information on the subject. The fact of the
matter is, there is no map of this part of the Turkish dominions. The
rivers, lakes, and towns, are put in by guess-work.
The londra at last arrived. It was manned by six or seven disreputable
and hungry-looking soldiers. The provisions were landed; these
consisted of a few maize loaves and a small bag of rice.
We bid adieu to our friends the officers, with a little difficulty
persuaded Rosso and Effendi to embark, and were soon gliding swiftly
across the smooth lake. In about an hour we had reached the opposite
side. Here were three or four houses, occupied by Turkish officers,
while the men were camped out on the edge of the lake in tents, so
ragged and torn that they must have been next to useless. In the
background, a few miles from the lake, there was a steep mountain, on
whose summit was a large fortress. This place we found is called Helm.
We landed, and at once resumed our march, which lay under the mountain,
and across a broad and lengthy plain which lies between Podgoritza and
the lake. There was no sign of cultivation anywhere. The plain was a
pebbly desert, scanty grass and a sort of prickly thorn being the sole
vegetation.
The heavy rain had once more set in, and before we had marched very
far, the waters, rushing down from the distant mountains, converted the
plain into a lake, across which we waded, the muddy compound rising
above our top-boots. Darkness at length came on, so as we should
certainly have lost ourselves had we gone much further, we entered a
khan, which turned up before us just in time. It was a rougher and less
civilized khan than that of the previous evening. There was but one
room in it; the floor was of clay; the walls, as usual, black with the
smoke of ages; and the ventilation almost too perfect.
They had some goat's flesh here, so we were enabled to make an
excellent meal. Being tired after our long march, we then retired to
our beds.
Just by the bar, as we chose to call the corner of the room where the
raki and wine were stored, there was a broad wooden slab against the
wall, supported on logs, and sloping down outward at a slight angle.
This was to serve as our bed for the night. We lay side by side rolled
up in our blankets. The neighbourhood was soon made aware of our
arrival; the khan was filled with armed Arnauts, who came and stared at
us inquisitively, while they whispered to each other in a mysterious
manner.
There was something very comic in the situation. There we lay,
stretched out in a row on that deal board, for all the world like the
corpses lying side by side, in similar fashion, on the marble slab of
the Paris morgue.
However, enveloped as we were in our voluminous blankets, nothing could
be seen of us but four projecting nasal organs. But this was quite
enough for our friends. Throughout the night they came and went through
the open door: there were never less than a dozen admiring us at a
time.
Towards the morning the bard of the district came in, tuned up his
guzla, and favoured us with a dismal selection from his _repertoire_.
His voice was high and cracked, but he sang fiercely and energetically,
while all the natives listened, spellbound and silent. I presume he was
singing our praises--he was evidently chanting the doings of some great
warriors.
Jones at last sneezed so violently in the middle of his song that the
minstrel was quite disconcerted, and sadly laying down his instrument,
stretched himself on the floor and slept. Being now at peace, we
followed his example.
I might as well mention the fact that I have never seen a Montenegrin
or Albanian take off his clothes before retiring for the night. I
believe, except when one of these people buys a new suit, he never
does, on any occasion whatever, undress. The poorer people, who never
do indulge in new suits, merely patch up the old while on them.
The next morning, at daybreak, we swallowed some boiling coffee, and
prepared for the march. Our toilet was simple enough: as Jones said,
"All I have to do is to rub in dubbin on my boots, and sling on my
pocket filter, and I am ready."
It was a bright, sunny morning. This change of the weather was very
welcome to us, wet through as we had been, night and day, since we left
Scutari. Half-way between Helm and Podgoritza a river crosses the
plain. The rapid water has eaten for itself a deep, narrow channel with
perpendicular sides. This forms the frontier between Turkey and
Montenegro. We crossed this torrent on a well-made bridge, in whose
centre was a stone, on one side of which were inscribed the arms of the
mountain principality, on the other side the star and crescent of the
Sublime Porte. From here we saw, far away over the plain, the minarets
of Podgoritza, standing out white against a background of dark
Montenegrin mountains.
It was not long before we were outside the town. It had been a dreary
morning's march. The plain, which with care might return much to the
agriculturist, was left bare and uncultivated. One need not search far
for a reason. We were on the frontier, on the scene of perpetual border
frays. He who sowed here would sow for the whirlwind only.
[Illustration: PODGORITZA.
_Page_ 177.]
Close to the town was a rough sentry-box; out stepped a Montenegrin
sentry, quite a boy, and challenged us. We amused him by showing him
our passports, which he gravely considered, first upside down, then
sideways; then he held one up to the sun, then shook his head and
returned them. He questioned Marco as to what we were. "These are
consuls Inglesi," replied the faithful one; "English consuls on the
spree." This was sufficient. We were saluted and allowed to pass.
I believe that throughout our stay in Montenegro we were invariably
taken for English Consuls, on a sort of happy-go-lucky holiday; anyhow,
we were highly appreciated by all the natives we came across.
It was very amusing to hear Marco explain us to inquisitive people.
Some passers-by would stalk by us--too polite and proud to stare or
show any surprise at our appearance; but having passed us, they would
stop Marco, and whisper to him, "What are these men?" "Great
diplomatists," would reply Marco, with dignity. "Consuls Inglesi. That
one in the spectacles is the head diplomatist. All great diplomatists
wear spectacles, you know."
We passed through the ruined walls which surround Podgoritza, and
marched down several badly-paved streets to the chief khan of the
place.
Podgoritza is a considerable town, with a population, I should say, of
8000 at least. It is picturesquely situated on the east bank of the
Moracha, a turbulent stream, and one of the chief feeders of the Lake
of Scutari. A large proportion of the inhabitants are Mohammedans.
The treaty of Berlin handed over this important Albanian fortress to
Montenegro. The Black Mountaineers had only occupied the place a short
time before our arrival. But all seemed to be going on peaceably; the
inhabitants appeared quite reconciled to their new government.
Our khan had been recently the house of a wealthy Mohammedan, and was
quite an imposing building. An archway led through to a court-yard,
surrounded by stables; above the stables run a wooden gallery, on to
which opened the various apartments. It was exactly like some of the
old-fashioned inns of the posting days, which one still comes across so
frequently in Normandy.
We had a very pleasant chamber handed over to us for our use. A window
filled one side of it. As this window was unglazed, this was rather a
chilly residence at this time of the year, when the bora blew strong
and fresh from the snow-capped mountains. In our honour, one half of
the window was glazed. I suppose this exhausted all the glass in the
town, for no effort was made to complete the work, though we were here
for several days. A divan ran round the wall, on which we were to
sleep. They cooked for us at this hotel, but there was little variety
in the cuisine; one day stewed fowl and stewed mutton, the next stewed
mutton and stewed fowl, and so on. We found there were some bottles of
Cyprus wine downstairs, at the bar. We very soon exhausted these, for
Cyprus wine seemed a great delicacy, after the rough Albanian wines and
rakis.
After breakfast Robinson and Marco rode off to Cettinje, fifteen hours
from here, to fetch the tent and the rest of their baggage.
While they were away we explored the town, and made the acquaintance of
a very good fellow, Gospodina Milosh, the government armourer, who was
now very occupied in putting into order the rifles which the
mountaineers brought down to him, anticipating the invasion of Albanian
territory, the orders to march being daily expected. This gentleman had
been sent to Vienna to learn his trade, and spoke German well, so was a
useful interpreter for us during our stay.
There was a large building adjoining our hotel, which was occupied by
the minister of war for Montenegro. It was he who led the highlanders
in those successful battles they fought with the Turks on the
Herzegovinan frontier during the last war. His name I have forgotten.
Every morning we saw him and a dozen chiefs, and others, stalk up and
down the river side in front of our window, for it was out of doors he
transacted his business, received his despatches, gave his orders, and
formed plans for the investment of Gussinje.
The next morning we went outside the town with our landlord (who by the
way was a sergeant in the army, as the metal eagle in his cap
betokened), for a little practice with our rifles.
We easily beat the natives on this as on all other occasions, and gave
them a very high idea of our skill as rifle shots.
I hit the target (a pocket handkerchief) at a 200 yards' range, at the
first shot, which so pleased the spectators that they gave me the name
of the "dobra Pushka."
There is a little bazaar in Podgoritza, through which we strolled. We
purchased some of the native caps, for it is always advisable to wear
these when in Montenegro; the people like one to assume their national
head-covering, and have a strong dislike for European hats.
We tried to catch some fish in the river, but failed, so returned to
our caravanserai for our usual mutton and fowl. A curious lad waited on
us--he was very open-eyed and solemn, his dignity was not to be
disturbed by any amount of chaff. We called him Johnny, and spoke to
him in any language that came handy, "Asht hazer bouka, donno me
hongr?" (Is the food ready? we want to eat) was a sentence--half of
which, by the way, is Sclav and half Albanian--which was frequently
inflicted on him. "Yest, yest, hazer" (Yes, yes, it is ready) was the
welcome answer he vouchsafed to us on our entry this evening. _Yest_,
which literally signifies "It is," is the affirmative in this language,
and at first surprises an Englishman by its resemblance to his native
"yes."