RACING WITH A STORM
One who has seen the boats in which fishermen now work the eddies and
still waters of the Bosphorus will not require a description of the
vessel the Prince and Lael stepped into when they arrived at the Grand
Gate of Blacherne. He need only be told that instead of being
pitch-black outside and in, it was white, except the gunwale which was
freshly gilt. The untravelled reader, however, must imagine a long
narrow craft, upturned at both ends, graceful in every line, and
constructed for speed and beauty. Well aft there was a box without
cover, luxuriously cushioned, lined with chocolate velvet, and wide
enough to seat two persons comfortably; behind it, a decked space for a
servant, pilot or guard. This arrangement left all forward for the
rowers, each handling two oars.
Ten rowers, trained, stout, and clad in white headkerchiefs, shirts and
trousers of the same hue, and Greek jackets of brilliant scarlet,
profusely figured over with yellow braid, sat stolidly, blades in hand
and ready dipped, when the passengers took their places, the Prince and
Lael in the box, and Nilo behind them as guard. The vessel was too
light to permit a ceremonious reception.
In front of the party, on the northern shore of the famous harbor, were
the heights of Pera. The ravines and grass-green benches into which
they were broken, with here and there a garden hut enclosed in a patch
of filbert bushes--for Pera was not then the city it now is--were of no
interest to the Prince; dropping his eyes to the water, they took in a
medley of shipping, then involuntarily turned to the cold gray face of
the wall he was leaving. And while seeing in vivid recollection the
benignant countenance of Constantine bent upon him from the chair in
the street, he thought of the horoscope he had spent the night in
taking and the forenoon in calculating. With a darkened brow, he gave
the word, and the boat was pushed off and presently seeking the broader
channel of the Bosphorus.
The day was delightful. A breeze danced merrily over the surface of the
water. Soft white summer clouds hung so sleepily in the southwest they
scarce suggested motion. Seeing the color deepen in Lael's cheeks, and
listening to her questions, he surrendered himself to the pleasures of
the situation, not the least being the admiration she attracted.
By ships at anchor, and through lesser craft of every variety they
sped, followed by exclamations frequently outspoken:
"Who is she? Who can she be?"
Thus pursued, they flew past the gate of St. Peter, turned the point of
Galata, and left the Fish Market port behind; proceeding then in
parallelism with the north shore, they glided under the great round
tower so tall and up so far overhead it seemed a part of the sky. Off
Tophane, they were in the Bosphorus, with Scutari at their right, and
Point Serail at their backs.
Viewed from the harbor on the sea, the old historic Point leaves upon
the well informed an impression that in a day long gone, yielding to a
spasm of justice, Asia cast it off into the waves. Its beauty is
Circean. Almost from the beginning it has been the chosen place in
which men ran rounds gay and grave, virtuous and wanton, foolish and
philosophic, brave and cowardly--where love, hate, jealousy, avarice,
ambition and envy have delighted to burn their lights before
Heaven--where, possibly with one exception, Providence has more
frequently come nearer lifting its veil than in any other spot of earth.
Again and again, the Prince, loth to quit the view, turned and refilled
his eyes with Sancta Sophia, of which, from his position, the wall at
the water's edge, the lesser churches of the Virgin Hodegetria and St.
Irene, and the topmost sections far extending of the palaces of
Bucoleon seemed but foundations. The edifice, as he saw it then,
depended on itself for effect, the Turk having not yet, in sign of
Mohammedan conversion, broken the line of its marvellous dome with
minarets. At length he set about telling stories of the Point.
Off the site of the present palace of Dolma-Batchi he told of
Euphrosyne, the daughter of the Empress Irene; and seeing how the
sorrowful fortune of the beautiful child engaged Lael's sympathies, he
became interested as a narrator, and failed to notice the unusual
warmth tempering the air about Tchiragan. Neither did he observe that
the northern sky, before so clear and blue, was whitening with haze.
To avoid the current running past Arnoot-Kouy, the rowers crossed to
the Asiatic side under the promontory of Candilli.
Other boats thronged the charming expanse; but as most of them were of
a humbler class sporting one rower, the Prince's, with its liveried
ten, was a surpassing attraction. Sometimes the strangers, to gratify
their curiosity, drew quite near, but always without affronting him;
knowing the homage was to Lael, he was happy when it was effusively
rendered.
His progress was most satisfactory until he rounded Candilli. Then a
flock of small boats came down upon him pell-mell, the rowers pulling
their uttermost, the passengers in panic.
The urgency impelling them was equally recognized by the ships and
larger vessels out in the channel. Anchors were going down, sails
furling, and oars drawing in. Above them, moreover, much beyond their
usual levels of flight troops of gulls were circling on rapid wings
screaming excitedly.
The Prince had reached the part of greatest interest in the story he
was telling--how the cruel and remorseless Emperor Michel, determined
to wed the innocent and helpless Euphrosyne, shamelessly cheated the
Church and cajoled the Senate--when Nilo touched his shoulder, and
awoke him to the situation. A glance over the water--another at the
sky--and he comprehended danger of some kind was impending. At the same
moment Lael commenced shivering and complaining of cold. The air had
undergone a sudden change. Presently Nilo's red cloak was sheltering
her.
The boat was in position to bring everything into view, and he spoke to
the rowers:
"A storm is rising."
They ceased work, and looked over their shoulders, each for himself.
"A blow from the sea, and it comes fast. What we shall do is for my
Lord to say," one of them returned.
The Prince grew anxious for Lael. What was done must be for her--he had
no thought else.
A cloud was forming over the whole northeastern quarter of the sky,
along the horizon black, overhead a vast gray wave, in its heart
copper-hued, seething, interworking, now a distended sail, now a sail
bursted; and the wind could be heard whipping the shreds into fleece,
and whirling them a confusion of vaporous banners. Yet glassy, the
water reflected the tint of the cloud. The hush holding it was like the
drawn breath of a victim waiting the first turn of the torturous wheel.
The Asiatic shore offered the Prince a long stretch, and he persisted
in coasting it until the donjon of the White Castle--that terror to
Christians--arrested his eye. There were houses much nearer, some of
them actually overhanging the water; but the donjon seemed specially
inviting; at all events, he coolly reflected, if the Governor of the
Castle denied him refuge, the little river near by known as the Sweet
Waters of Asia would receive him, and getting under its bank, he might
hope to escape the fury of the wind and waves. He shouted resolutely:
"To the White Castle! Make it before the wind strikes, my men, and I
will double your hire."
"We may make it," the rower answered, somewhat sullenly, "but"--
"What?" asked the Prince.
"The devil has his lodgings there. Many men have gone into its accursed
gates on errands of peace, and never been heard of again."
The Prince laughed.
"We lose time--forward! If there be a fiend in the Castle, I promise
you he is not waiting for us."
The twenty oars fell as one, and the boat jumped like a steed under a
stab of the spur.
Thus boldly the race with the storm was begun. The judgment of the
challenger, assuming the Prince to be such, may be questioned. The
river was the goal.
Could he reach it before the wind descended in dangerous force?--That
was the very point of contest.
The chances, it is to be remembered next, were not of a kind to admit
weighing with any approach to certainty; it was difficult even to
marshal them for consideration. The distance was somewhat less than
three-quarters of a mile; on the other part, the competing cloud was
wrestling with the mountain height of Alem Daghy, about four miles
away. The dead calm was an advantage; unfortunately it was more than
offset by the velocity of the current which, though not so strong by
the littoral of Candilli as under the opposite bluffs of
Roumeli-Hissar, was still a serious opposing force. The boatmen were
skilful, and could be relied upon to pull loyally; for, passing the
reward offered in the event of their winning, the dangers of failure
were to them alike. Treating the contest as a race, with the storm and
the boat as competitors, the Prince was not without chances of success.
But whatever the outcome of the venture, Lael would be put to
discomfort. His care of her was so habitually marked by tender
solicitude one cannot avoid wondering at him now.
After all he may have judged the affair more closely than at first
appears. The sides of the boat were low, but danger from that cause
might be obviated by the skill of the rowers; and then Alem Daghy was
not a trifling obstacle in the path of the gale. It might be trusted to
hold the cloud awhile; after which a time would be required by the wind
to travel the miles intervening.
Certainly it had been more prudent to make the shore, and seek refuge
in one of the houses there. But the retort of the spirited Jew of that
day, as in this, was a contemptuous refusal of assistance, and the
degree to which this son of Israel was governed by the eternal
resentment can be best appreciated by recalling the number of his days
on earth.
At the first response to the vigorous pull of the oarsmen, Lael drew
the red cloak over her face, and laid her head against the Prince. He
put his arm around her, and seeing nothing and saying nothing, she
trusted in him.
The rowers, pulling with strength from the start, gradually quickened
the stroke, and were presently in perfect harmony of action. A short
sough accompanied each dip of the blades; an expiration, like that of
the woodman striking a blow with his axe, announced the movement
completed. The cords of their brawny necks played fast and free; the
perspiration ran down their faces like rain upon glass. Their teeth
clinched. They turned neither right nor left; but with their straining
eyes fixed upon him, by his looks they judged both their own well-doing
and the progress of their competitor.
Seeing the boat pointed directly toward the Castle, the Prince watched
the cloud. Occasionally he commended the rowers.
"Well done, my men!--Hold to that, and we will win!"
The unusual brightness of his eyes alone betrayed excitement. Once he
looked over the yet quiet upper field of water. His was the only vessel
in motion. Even the great ships were lying to. No--there was another
small boat like his own coming down along the Asiatic shore as if to
meet him. Its position appeared about as far above the mouth of the
river as his was below it; and its three or five rowers were plainly
doing their best. With grim pleasure, he accepted the stranger as
another competitor in the race.
The friendly heights of Alem, seen from the Bosphorus, are one great
forest always beautifully green. Even as the Prince looked at them,
they lost color, as if a hand out of the cloud had suddenly dropped a
curtain of white gauze over them. He glanced back over the course, then
forward. The donjon was showing the loopholes that pitted its southern
face. Excellent as the speed had been, more was required. Half the
distance remained to be overcome--and the enemy not four miles away.
"Faster, men!" he called out. "The gust has broken from the mountain. I
hear its roaring."
They turned involuntarily, and with a look measured the space yet to be
covered, the distance of the foe, and the rate at which he was coming.
Nor less did they measure the danger. They too heard its warning, the
muffled roar as of rocks and trees snatched up and grinding to atoms in
the inner coils of the cloud.
"It is not a blow," one said, speaking quick, "but a"--
"Storm."
The word was the Prince's.
"Yes, my Lord."
Just then the water by the boat was rippled by a breath, purring,
timorous, but icy.
The effect on the oarsmen was stronger than any word from the master
could have been. They finished a pull long and united; then while the
oars swung forward taking reach for another, they all arose to their
feet, paused a moment, dipped the blades deeper, gave vent to a cry so
continuous it sounded like a wail, and at the same time sunk back into
their seats, pulling as they fell. This was their ultimate exertion. A
jet of water spurted from the foot of the sharp bow, and the bubbles
and oar eddies flew behind indistinguishably.
"Well done!" said the Prince, his eyes glowing.
Thenceforward the men continued to rise at the end of a stroke, and
fall as they commenced delivery of another. Their action was quick,
steady, machine-like; they gripped the water deep, and made no slips;
with a thought of the exhilaration an eagle must feel when swooping
from his eyrie, the Prince looked at the cloud defiantly as a
challenger might. Each moment the donjon loomed up more plainly. He saw
now, not merely the windows and loopholes, but the joinery of the
stones in their courses. Suddenly he beheld another wonder--an army of
men mounted and galloping along the river bank toward the Castle.
The array stretched back into the woods. In its van were two flags
borne side by side, one green, the other red. Both were surrounded by a
troop in bright armor. No need for him to ask to whom they belonged.
They told him of Mecca and Mahomet--on the red, he doubted not seeing
the old Ottomanic symbols, in their meaning poetic, in their simplicity
beautiful as any ever appropriated for martial purposes. The riders
were Turks. But why the green flag? Where it went somebody more than
the chief of a sanjak, more than the governor of a castle, or even a
province, led the way.
The number trailing after the flags was scarcely less mysterious. They
were too many to be of the garrison; and then the battlements of the
Castle were lined with men also under arms. Not daring to speak of this
new apparition lest his oarsmen might take alarm, the Prince smiled,
thinking of another party to the race--a fourth competitor.
He sought the opposing boat next. It had made good time. There were
five oarsmen in it; and, like his own, they were rising and falling
with each stroke. In the passengers' place, he could make out two
persons whom he took to be women.
A roll of thunder from the cloud startled the crew. Clear, angry,
majestic, it filled the mighty gorge of the Bosphorus. Under the sound
the water seemed to shrink away. Lael looked out from her hiding, but
as quickly drew back, crowding closer to the Prince. To calm her he
said, lightly,
"Fear nothing, O my Gul Bahar! A pretty race we are having with the
cloud yonder; we are winning, and it is not pleased. There is no
danger."
She answered by doubling the folds of the gown about her head.
Steadily, lithely, and with never an error the rowers drove through the
waves--steadily, and in exact time, their cry arose cadencing each
stroke. They did their part truly. Well might the master cry them,
"Good, good." But all the while the wind was tugging mightily at its
cloudy car; every instant the rattle of its wheels sounded nearer. The
trees on the hills behind the Castle were bending and bowing; and not
merely around the boat, but far as could be seen the surface of the
ancient channel was a-shirr and a-shatter under beating of advance
gusts.
And now the mouth of the Sweet Waters, shallowed by a wide extended
osier bank, came into view; and the Castle was visible from base to
upper merlon, the donjon, in relief against the blackened sky, rising
more ghostly than ever. And right at hand were the flags, and the
riders galloping with them. And there, coming bravely in, was the
competing boat.
Over toward Roumeli-Hissar the sea birds congregated in noisy flocks,
alarmed at the long line of foam the wind was whisking down the
current. Behind the foam, the world seemed dissolving into spray.
Then the boats were seen from the Castle, and a company of soldiers ran
out and down the bank. A noise like the rushing of a river sounded
directly overhead. The wind struck the Castle, and in the thick of the
mists and flying leaves hurled at it, the donjon disappeared.
"We win, we win, my men!" the Prince shouted. "Courage--good
spirit--brave work--treble wages! Wine and wassail to-morrow!"
The boat, with the last word, shot into the little river, and up to the
landing of the Castle just as the baffled wind burst over the refuge.
And simultaneously the van of the army galloped under the walls and the
competing boat arrived.