An escort--A Turkish dinner-party--Brigands--Our sportsman--A chief
of the League--Objects of the rebels--Achmet Agha--A meeting of the
League--The Boulem-Bashi of Klementi--An Arnaut chieftain.
The next day (Saturday, November 1st), after our black coffee, and the
usual bustle attending the packing of our animals, we shouldered our
rifles, and made a start. Our landlord insisted on our pouring down
numerous glasses of raki in his house, and, according to the general
custom over here, accompanied us to about half a mile or more from the
town, when a halt was called. Then he produced a glass, and a large
bottle of mastic, which had to be finished by us ere bidding a final
adieu. We all highly approved of this good old custom.
It began to rain soon after we commenced our march, and the plain
assumed very quickly that lake-like appearance which we had observed
the last time we crossed it.
On arriving at the khan where we had slept on our march to Podgoritza,
we found in front of it a large encampment of Turkish soldiers. We
entered the house to get some coffee, and were then pounced upon by
some of the officers, who wished to see our passports, and learn who we
were, and whither we were bound. They insisted on sending an escort of
four men with us as far as Helm, for, as they told us, we were breaking
through all the regulations laid down by the government for the
security of travellers in journeying thus without zaptiehs. That
travellers should be thus escorted we knew to be the rule throughout
Turkey, but we evaded it whenever we could. In Albania such an escort
is worse than useless. In the first place, the zaptiehs will not
venture to go with you into the mountains, where the Arnauts would
probably attack them for the sake of their arms; and on the other hand,
their company is sure to make you very unpopular in every village you
go through, for these defenders of the peace consider they have a legal
right to requisition provisions, and all they want, without paying for
them.
On reaching Helm we found that the provision boat had left, thus we
were obliged to pass the night here. Robinson proposed that we should
pitch our tent. While we were discussing the point a Turkish officer
came up, and spoke to us in French. He pointed out a dismal stone house
by the lake side, and told us that the commandant of the troops
stationed here resided in it, and would be very glad if we would accept
his hospitality for the night. We were all delighted, with the
exception of Robinson, who sighed deeply--his beloved tent was not to
be pitched after all.
We were shown into a rough, unfurnished room, and dinner was soon
announced. We dined with the commandant and the French-speaking
officer, Marco and a negro soldier waiting on us. It was a regular
Turkish dinner--no chairs, no knives and forks. We had to squat down in
Eastern fashion, and eat the savoury pilaf with our fingers. After
dinner we entered into a lengthy conversation with the commandant, the
other officer acting as interpreter. He hated Albania, and the
Albanians. "Why," he said, "these dogs of Arnauts should be smoked out
of their fastnesses. My soldiers dare not leave the camp; if a few of
them stray a mile or two away, 'ping, ping,' a dozen bullets hiss about
their ears. The beasts murder them for their rifles. We might as well
be in an enemy's country at once. I advise you to be cautious in
travelling among these mountains. It is really very unsafe."
The conversation turned on politics. The old soldier seemed very
excited. "Ay!" he said, "all our friends have forsaken us; you English
even are no longer allies of the Turk. And this being so, why should we
do anything for you? why assist you? why listen any more to your
counsels? I will tell you, by Allah! there is but one stick left that
Turkey may lean on. Her only hope is in an alliance with the strong,
with Russia; that is what it will come to, you will see."
"I am afraid you will find that Russia devours her allies."
The commandant laughed. "There is something in that," he said. "The
truth is, that poor Turkey has no friends, and no hope. We shall have
to leave your Europe, I fear; but I do not think you will find that
Turkey, overrun by Sclavs, will be so much better than it is now."
The next morning our host ordered a special londra for us, and ordered
his men to row us down to a point on the lake, whence we could march to
Scutari before nightfall. Our crew of ragged soldiers, grim,
half-starved, some of negro, some of Arab blood, brought us, in about
two hours, to a sheltered little bay on the east shore of the lake. Our
course had lain across a regular forest of half-submerged trees, which
grew in fantastic shapes, and whose lower ends were thickly surrounded
with sedge and water-plants. The effect was curious, not unlike those
tropical swamps where vegetable life is so profuse and varied.
On landing we repacked Rosso and Effendi, and were just on the point of
bidding adieu to our crew, and commencing our march, when an incident
worthy of mention occurred.
With the exception of snipe, and such like small deer, we had come
across little game in Albania. The _ferae naturae_ have little chance in
this barren country, where war is frequent, peopled as it is too by men
who never leave their thresholds without carrying their loaded guns
with them. But now, however, the keen eye of Jones suddenly lighted
upon a large and unknown bird, perched on a stump not fifteen yards
from the shore. It was a curious and melancholy-looking creature,
something like a mangy pelican with a moulting tail.
Now Jones, my readers will remember, had purchased an Arnaut gun at
Scutari, an orthodox flint-locked _pushka_, with barrel as long as
himself. This weapon had been strongly recommended by the vendor for
sporting purposes. On inspecting it, Jones noticed the barrel was most
decidedly bent. He pointed this out to the merchant. "Bent! Ah, that is
nothing," said he; "easily remedied." So saying he inserted the barrel
between two of the beams of his roof, bent it straight, squinted down
it, and handed it back. "There you are! Excellent pushka!"
With this weapon Jones proceeded to slay the mysterious bird on the
stump. Marco and the soldiers, on observing his intentions, became very
alarmed. "Do not shoot here," said our follower. "The noise will bring
down the Arnauts upon us; they will kill us."
But the sporting instinct of the Englishman was up. Slowly and warily,
with the lengthy pushka held out at full-cock, with finger on the
trigger, Jones crept nearer and nearer to the lake's edge. His
reputation as a mighty Nimrod in the stubble of his native land was at
stake. All our reputations were at stake as Inglesi, and therefore of a
race of sportsmen.
Silently, yet excitedly, the soldiers watched. The eyes of Marco
gleamed as he looked round. He was proud of us. "Now, you look out; you
watch," he whispered to the men. He nodded his head with a knowing nod,
that unmistakably said, "You will see." And "I told you so!" was ready
to jump from his lips as soon as the report of the gun awoke the echoes
of the wilderness. Our Nimrod crouched down; there was a pause; a great
suspense. Then his finger pulled the trigger; the lock snapped! There
was a fizzing sound, as of those "devils" the school-boy makes of damp
powder. With the fizzing there rose a pale blue smoke from the pan. The
bird heard the sound, looked round at the stranger and his fizzing
instrument curiously for a time, then, having satisfied his curiosity,
he deliberately shook himself, spread his rickety wings, and flew
slowly and majestically over the lake. It was nearly out of sight when
there was a report. The pushka went off with an imposing bang that
awoke the echoes of the mountains. A roar of Homeric laughter burst
from the assembly.
In the rainy season of Albania it becomes very difficult to preserve
the powder in the pan of one's gun in a properly dry condition. After a
few days it becomes a slow fuse. But Jones soon mastered the ways of
his mighty pushka, and was fairly successful in his future sporting
expeditions; for having carefully timed the fuse, his method was to
take aim and fire at least ten minutes ere the game was even in sight.
It was pitch dark when we reached Scutari, and walked through the
abominably roughly-paved streets to the Hotel Toshli, where the
brothers received us with open arms.
The next morning we held a council, to decide whither we should wander
next. We came to no immediate conclusion, as there was great diversity
of opinion. As Robinson was expecting a remittance from London, we
should most probably have to remain a few days at Scutari. Having
nothing better to do, we persuaded our friend the gendarme to introduce
us to a chief of the Albanian League, who was a friend of his.
The interview had to be arranged with caution, for, as our friend said,
"They know here you have been to Montenegro, and may suspect your
motives in wishing to question a member of the League."
It was settled that we should go to the gendarme's house in the
afternoon; there the chief in question would meet us.
In the afternoon Jones and myself were shown by the gendarme's Miridite
servant into a room, where, squatting on mats, coffee-drinking, were
our friend and a shrewd-looking old Albanian Mussulman, with
deeply-lined face, and anxious and restless eye. After the customary
salutations I entered into conversation with him, the gendarme, as
usual, acting as interpreter.
I told him the English wished to know what were the objects of the
League.
"Our object," he said, "is to defend our countries against the enemies
that surround us. The dogs of Montenegrin, the Servian and Greek swine,
all wish to steal a portion of Albania; but, praise be to Allah, we are
strong. The Albanians are brave; and guns and ammunition are not
wanting."
He tried to sound me as to the views of England, for he thought this
frontier dispute was absorbing all the attention of our countrymen. He
said, "England is our friend. They all say here she has supplied the
League with weapons and money."
That some power--most probably Turkey--has assisted the League in this
way, is certain. But it is curious that all the Albanians I met were
positive as to England being the friend in question.
The Government of Turkey does not find favour in the eyes of the
Albanians. "The Turks!" cried out the chief, angrily, "what do they do
for us? Tax us, rob us--that is all. These effeminate pashas, these
farmers of customs, do nothing for us in return for what they steal.
Can they defend us? protect us? No! They have sold us to the cursed
giaours of the Karatag. I tell you we will have the Turk no more. The
chiefs of the League have sworn it. Independence has been given to
Montenegro--to Bulgaria. Albania shall have her independence, and the
great powers shall recognize us. If not, we care not. Leave us alone;
that is enough for us."
He had now worked himself up into a furious rage, and was almost
choking with it; so he stopped, drank some sherbet, then turning
suddenly to me, said, "What do you English think of Midhat Pasha?"
"He is much liked by us," I replied. "He is looked upon as one of the
few honest and worthy Turkish officials."
He seemed very pleased at hearing this, and said, "What we wish is to
create an independent Albanian principality, with this Midhat Pasha as
our Prince--a principality under the protectorate of England. You will
see we shall have it."
I asked him whether this League was a purely patriotic movement, or
whether it was a religious one, confined to Mohammedans only.
"We are fighting for our independence," he replied. "There are as many
Christians in the League as Mussulmen. You know the Christians here are
of the Latin Church, and hate the Greek Christians as much as we
Mohammedans do."
He told me that one party of the League were not averse to the
occupation of Albania by some big power; not Russia, he said, nor
Italy, nor Austria; but England or France. For his part he did not wish
this.
With regard to the defence of Gussinje, he said, "We have 35,000 men
there, who will fight to the death. The Montenegrins cannot take
Gussinje. Why, they never yet have fought us in the plain. The beasts
can fight well enough behind their own rocks, but they are cowards to
attack. When the Skipitars raise their shout, and charge with the
yataghan, the Karatags tremble; they turn, they fly. Then we pursue
them, seize them by their long hair, and with a sweep of our blades cut
off the beasts' heads. Ah! it is sweet to see." And turning sharply to
me, "Why do not you go to Gussinje and see the fighting? Parties leave
Scodra every night for the front. I will give you a letter to Ali Bey.
He will welcome you as a brother."
The proposal was pleasing; Jones and myself at once agreed to accompany
the next party to Gussinje. We knew that the expedition was rather a
risky one. The garrison of Gussinje had been worked up to a high pitch
of fanatical madness, and might treat us with little ceremony did they
hear of our journey into the enemy's country. Under these circumstances
we thought it better that two of our party alone should go to Gussinje,
while the other two could make a sporting expedition into the mountains
beyond the plains of Scutari.
The next morning accordingly, Brown and Robinson, taking Marco with
them, shouldered their rifles, strapped their blankets on their
shoulders, and marched off towards the Miridite mountains--a lofty and
wild range, inhabited by the tribe of the same name, the most savage
and desperate of all the Christian highland class, a race that has
waged a perpetual war with the Turk for centuries. The Miridites are
exceedingly poor, in a condition of half starvation, for bodies of
Turkish troops ever and anon make incursions into the debouchures of
their valleys, driving off their flocks, burning their villages, and
compelling them to fly for safety into the cold and utterly barren
highlands.
The gendarme brought to our room at Toshli's, the morning of our
friends' departure, another member of the League, a chief of influence.
He slipped off his shoes at our door, and shuffled in, a short-legged,
stout, dropsical old fellow, with not over-clean festinelle, and a four
days' beard: he had the fierce eye which is the characteristic of the
Northern Albanians. The shaven head too of the Mussulman lent a
peculiar ferocity to his expression. I never cast eyes upon a more
blood-thirsty-looking old scoundrel. "Will your friend take some coffee
or sherbet?" I asked the gendarme. "He likes raki best," was the reply,
"when no one is looking on. He is not a very strict Mohammedan in this
respect." I found few Albanians indeed had very delicate consciences
when raki was in question.
This gentleman, who was introduced to us as Achmet Agha Kouchi, kept a
coffee-house in the Mohammedan quarter of the town. He purposed going
to Gussinje in a few days, and would be pleased if we would accompany
him.
We were to visit him at his cafe in the afternoon, to arrange matters.
After lunch we traversed the dismal streets of the Turkish quarter till
we reached the little cafe of our new friend. It was full of
Leaguesmen, who had evidently come to inspect us. I wish I had taken a
sketch of that interior. No slum of an Eastern city could show a group
of more cut-throat-looking, fierce ruffians than those Scutarine
conspirators.
They did not rise when we entered, but stared at us with savage,
lowering looks, that betokened suspicion and hatred of the giaour.
Achmet Agha told us that a party would start the night after next for
Gussinje; and that to-night there would be a meeting of the Scutarine
Leaguesmen, in the mosque near the river, to decide whether we should
be permitted to visit the besieged town.
In the morning he would let us know what had been decided.
In Toshli's this evening, I read an account in a Trieste paper of a
battle which had been fought near Gussinje, in which the Albanians had
been victorious. Rumours of all kinds had for days been flying about
the bazaar; but though Gussinje is but a three days' march from here,
nothing certain was known. Indeed the Scutarines were entirely without
information on the progress of matters.
Some excitement was caused by the departure of Mr. Green to-day for
Cettinje. He had of course gone thither to take a part in the
negotiations now pending, the Turks having sent a representative to the
Montenegrin capital, to try his utmost to arrive at an amicable
solution of the difficulty. The Scutarines, however, were quite certain
that Signor Green had gone off to threaten Prince Nikita with an
immediate declaration of war on the part of England, did he not without
delay withdraw his troops from the frontier.
The League met as usual at midnight, in the mosque, and till daybreak
discussed Jones and myself. The meeting was described to us. Said some:
"Let them not go; who knows that some of the men of Gussinje will not
murder them as giaours? Then what difficulty we shall be in. We will
have to avenge them, for they are our guests; there will be strife
between the defenders of our country, and the dogs of Karatag will
rejoice. Again, their blood will be upon our heads. Zutni Green will be
wrath. The English will be our friends no longer."
However, the dissentients were in the minority. The League of Scutari
gave its permission to our departure.
We were advised to wear the fez instead of our English hats, as this
would reduce the risk of our irritating the intensely excited
inhabitants of Gussinje: accordingly we purchased two of the orthodox
head-coverings.
Achmet Agha again called on us; he seemed rather uncomfortable. We
could see he had heard something about us, and did not like to carry
out his promise. Said he: "Who are you? Why do you wish to go to
Gussinje?" We replied: "In England we will write a book. The English
wish to know what the Albanian League means, whether it is good. It is
for that we wish to go to Gussinje, that we may see, and be able to
tell our countrymen the truth." "Ah," he said, "so your 'krail,' your
chiefs, have sent you for this. _Mir_, _mir_--it is good."
Then he paused, and said abruptly, "We shall not go to-morrow."
"Why not?"
"Because we know not how the other Leaguesmen will receive you. We must
first send to inquire of our general, Ali Bey, if he will have you."
This did not sound very pleasant to us. Ultimately he agreed to take us
on the morrow to a hut two hours distant from Gussinje; there he would
leave us while he rode into the town, to acquaint the chieftains with
our wishes, and obtain permission for us to visit Ali Bey.
The next morning we rose at daybreak, and found a strong "bora" was
blowing, and the snow lay thick on the distant mountains.
We prepared for the start.
Luggage we took none, except one blanket; but as it promised to be
exceedingly cold in the mountains, we each put on two flannel shirts
and two pairs of socks.
Achmet Agha called two hours after his time; he seemed confused and
troubled. Our host, Toshli, came forward as interpreter, for I managed
to make out a good deal he said. With him I conversed in a strange
mixture of Italian and Greek, one of the _six_ compound tongues I
had to invent in Albania in order to get on with the different people I
met.
Said Achmet Agha, "I cannot go with you. I have been told by the
authorities that if anything happens to you I shall be held
responsible; my house and property will all be confiscated. Besides, I
have to tell you that you are forbidden on any account to go to
Gussinje; the pasha will not have it." This all seemed very strange.
That the Turkish pasha and police authorities should have acted thus
seemed improbable. We afterwards found they did not even know anything
about our intended journey.
We did, however, hear something later on, which led us to very strongly
suspect that the attempt to stop us originated in a certain foreign
consulate at Scutari.
Naturally suspicious and jealous of English influence in Turkey, the
representatives of this power concluded that our government had sent us
here on some secret errand; and so, not being able to discover the
object of our mission, attempted to frustrate it altogether in an
underhand manner.
Jones and myself had now thoroughly made up our minds that we would go
to Gussinje, in spite of an over-officious consul, so we proceeded to
hunt about Scutari for a guide and dragoman.
No one could we find. Those we spoke to smiled grimly, drew their hands
significantly across their throats, and emphatically objected to go
anywhere near the hot little town.
One person, however, did volunteer to accompany us. This was the
English Consul's cook. He was a plucky little Albanian, very vivacious
and clever. He spoke two words of nearly every language in Europe, and
in default of better, would make a very fair dragoman for us. He had
adopted European costume, and wore jauntily on his head an English army
forage cap, the gift of the British sergeant who accompanied the
frontier commissioners last May. This cook was a man of some rank. In
Albania, a calling such as was his is not derogatory to a gentleman. We
had made his acquaintance at Toshli's, where he was famed for his skill
as a billiard-player. He went to Mrs. Green, told her of our intended
journey, and implored her to give him leave of absence, in order that
he might guide and protect the Inglezi travellers. Alas! It could not
be; his presence was indispensable in the consulate kitchen. Cooks are
not to be picked up every day in Scutari, at any rate such cooks as
this, for we had several opportunities of perceiving how skilled he was
in his profession, under Mr. Green's hospitable roof.
No one to be found to come with us! This looked bad; we almost
despaired of effecting our purpose, for to find our way alone across
the roadless mountains would have been impossible. To have travelled
among the savage Arnauts, without knowing ten words of their
language--madness.
As we discontentedly discussed the question in our bedroom, the head
cavasse of the English Consulate was announced. He brought with him a
tall, handsome, and very pleasant-looking Albanian Mussulman, evidently
a man of high rank, superbly dressed and armed. "This," said the
cavasse, "is the Boulim-Bashi of Klementi. He will accompany you to
Klementi, which is a day's march from Gussinje. There he will hand you
over to the chieftain of the Klementi, Nik Leka, who is a friend of
Signor Green. He will say to Nik Leka, these are friends of Signor
Green; treat them as his brothers, and if the danger be not too great
take them to Ali Bey."
My readers can imagine our delight. We could not travel under better
auspices. The condition of a boulim-bashi is curious. The Turks, as I
have before said, have never really conquered or assimilated Albania;
the Christian highlanders are allowed considerable independence. Now,
each Arnaut tribe is obliged to elect from the Mussulmen of Scutari a
representative, a sort of consul, who mediates between it and the
Turkish Government, who acts as their advocate in case of any dispute.
As he is chosen by the tribe from among the townsmen of rank, and as he
can be dismissed any day if the highlanders in any way object to him,
the boulim-bashi is always a popular man, liked by the tribe he
represents, and a very safe person in whose company to travel among the
highlands, for he is sure to be known to, and treated as a friend, by
every man met on the way. It was a great honour to be thus escorted,
and we afterwards discovered, the cause that led to the kind proposal.
The men of Klementi are deeply indebted to our consul, who took their
part in a certain quarrel between them and the Turkish Government, in
which justice was entirely on their side. Grateful for this, the
Klementis are ever glad to do any service for Zutni Green. Thus it was
that we as friends of the consul received this invitation. The Klementi
is the most powerful tribe of this district. There are 6000 fighting
men, all armed with Martini-Henry rifles, stolen from the Turks. Their
chieftain, Nik Leka, to whom the boulim-bashi was to escort us, is the
hero of the Scutarine Christians. The timid townspeople of the Latin
faith, unarmed as they are by law, live in fear of the Mohammedan
population, who have more than once fallen on and massacred them. It is
to the armed Arnauts of the hills, their fellow-Christians, that they
look for protection, for these are better warriors than the Mussulmen
themselves, never have been a subject race, but stalk, bristling with
arms, through the bazaars of the cities on market-days, as erect and
haughty as the most blue-blooded young Mohammedan emir of them all.
This Nik Leka had a little adventure recently in the bazaar of Scutari.
He was discussing some matter with a young Mussulman of rank, who had
three retainers with him. A quarrel ensued. The other called the Arnaut
chief a dog of a Christian. Nik Leka is a man of few words. He whipped
out his yataghan with his right hand, seized his enemy by the little
tail of hair which the faithful leave on their closely-shaven heads to
give Mahomet something to lay hold on when he pulls them into Paradise,
and the next moment there was a flash of bright steel, and the Arnaut
held up a bleeding head, while the body fell into the foul gutter
below. The man's retainers fell upon Nik Leka, but the wiry highlander
was too much for the effeminate townsmen. He slew two of them, the
third escaped; then he picked up the three heads with a grim smile,
tucked them under his arms, and marched off to his mountains, where he
exhibited the ghastly trophies to the tribesmen.