Radford and Osman—The quarrel—Do the Roossians kiss each
other?—Bei Bazar—The pig tobacco—Osman's honesty—Forage
for five horses—It is a good sign in a horse to be always
hungry—The Tchechmet river—The Mudir at Istanos—The Cadi's
mule—The tradition about Istanos—Caverns formerly inhabited
by marauders—A chasm—The entrance to the caverns—A levee of
the inhabitants—No newspapers in the villages—An Armenian
priest—The furniture of the room—Has the Conference
commenced?—What is it all about?—Russia is strong and we are
weak—The other Powers are afraid of Russia—Will England be
our ally?—Are the Christians tortured?—Here we get on very
well with the Mussulmans—The pack-saddle.
There was something on my English servant's mind that evening. He did
not look happy, and eyed Osman from time to time with lowering looks.
"My brother is angry with me, Effendi," said the Turk, in answer to my
inquiries. "When he speaks I do not understand, when I speak he does
not know what I say."
"What is the matter, Radford?" I asked.
"Please, sir, I ain't had no dinner. I did not prepare anything for
you as the cook in the house was a preparing it. Well, when you had
finished, and Osman had brought out the dishes, I thought that I should
get something to eat. But, no sir! for Osman invited a lot of dirty
Turks to come and sit round the victuals. Some of the chaps had just
come out of the stable, and their hands were that dirty. Then they
began a shoving them into the dishes and a licking their fingers. It
turned me hup, that it did. Osman ought to know better, sir. Whenever
I cooks for you I always give him a tit-bit for himself."
I now explained the matter to Osman, and at the same time informed him
that in future he must look after his English companion at dinner-time.
The difficulty was amicably arranged, and the two men shook hands
together. Osman wishing to show his affection in a more demonstrative
manner, this, however, was not appreciated by my domestic.
"Lor! how they kisses each other, just like a lot of great girls. Do
the Roossians kiss each other?"
"Yes, Radford."
"They must be a poor lot then, sir. I have always heard that one
Englishman could lick two Frenchmen, and I believed it; but I'll be
blessed if I could not lick half-a-dozen Roossians, if they have no
more in them than these 'ere dirty Turks."
We left Bei Bazar at daybreak. Osman, as usual, did not take the
trouble to lead one of the baggage-horses, but drove the animal before
him. Presently we passed through a narrow passage. On each side were
two walls; the pack-saddle struck against one them, and Radford's bag,
containing the article which he prized perhaps most in the world, some
pig tobacco, was torn open.
"I never seed such a fellow as that Osman," exclaimed my indignant
servant, "he is always a telling of us as how he is industrious, and if
there is a ha'porth of work to do he will borrow a penny and give it to
some chap to do the job for him. I believe, sir, as how that fellow is
a cheating the horses of their forage. He told me that he fed them in
the morning before I was up. He is a liar he is. I was dressed a long
time before him, and when he did show himself, he was busy the whole
time a praying and a doing something with a little gallipot he carries
in his saddle-bags. I don't believe the horses have had a feed of corn
this twenty-four hours."
I began myself to be a little sceptical about Osman's honesty. I was
paying as much for the forage of the five horses as if I had been in
England. The poor brutes were getting thinner every day. I determined
to stop at a farmhouse and buy some barley. On giving this to the
horses, they ate it ravenously, thus confirming my suspicions.
"Osman, you did not feed the horses this morning!" I exclaimed.
"Feed them, Effendi! I fed all of them!"
"But see how hungry they are, they have eaten all the barley you have
just given them."
"Yes, sir, they are wonderful horses. They are always hungry. It is a
good sign in a horse to be always hungry."
I was not to be taken in by this remark, and so desired Radford in
future to see the horses fed. At the same time I resolved to keep a
sharp look-out on Osman. It was true that a considerable portion of
his time was spent in praying; however, I began to be of my English
servant's opinion, that when the Turk was not engaged in prayer, he was
either planning or executing a theft, and that all these devotions were
performed merely with the view of throwing me off my guard.
We crossed the Tchechmet; it is a tributary of the Sakaria river, and
about thirty yards wide. There was a wooden bridge over the stream,
but without any parapets; the height from the water being about
twelve feet. This river is fordable in many places, the banks are not
precipitous, and the bottom is firm.
A messenger, sent forward from the village of Ayash, had informed
the Mudir at Istanos, our next station, that an English traveller
was on the road. The official, attended by the Cadi and two or three
Zaptiehs, came out to meet us. All the party, with the exception of the
gendarmes, were clad in long dark blue dressing-gowns, which draggled
some distance below the riders' stirrups. The mule which the Cadi
rode was not of a quiet disposition; from time to time he kicked as
violently as a mule can kick, at his master's robe, the Cadi saving
himself by clinging convulsively to the high pommel of his saddle.
Istanos is a little distance from the direct road to Angora. There
was no other good halting-place in the neighbourhood, so I determined
to make a slight detour and remain there for the night—the more
particularly as Istanos is a village of historic fame, the tradition
being still extant, that it is the place[7] where Alexander the Great
cut the Gordian knot. The village, which contains 400 houses—half
belonging to Armenians, half to Turks—is on the right bank of the river
Owas. A lofty rock overhangs the stream, and according to the Mudir,
there were several huge caverns which in days long gone by had been
inhabited by bands of marauders.
Later on, I procured a guide, and walked to the foot of the rock. A
narrow pathway was cut in the solid stone. The track was not more than
twelve inches wide, as we ascended it became narrower at every moment.
At last we arrived at a spot where the path had given way. There was a
chasm about twelve feet wide. The guide hesitated, and no wonder, for
if he had essayed the leap and missed it, he must have fallen at least
a hundred feet on to the crags below.
"Effendi," he said, "I will try and cross if you like, but if my foot
slips I shall be killed. You can see the entrance to the caverns from
the place where you are standing."
It was not possible, even if I had wished it, to pass him and try the
jump myself. The sun was nearly down, and ere a rope could be brought,
night would be upon us. Reluctantly I retraced my steps, having to go
backward for some distance owing to the narrowness of the ledge. Should
any other traveller chance to visit Istanos, and be able to stay there
a day or two, it would be well worth his while to procure a rope and
examine these, as far as I can learn, unexplored grottos.
On returning to the Mudir's house, I found a levee of the principal
inhabitants, Armenians as well as Turks. I was then informed that they
had come to welcome me to their village. The real reason being that
they wished to hear the latest news from Constantinople. No newspapers
find their way to these out-of-the-way villages. The inhabitants can
only learn what is going on in the capital through the arrival of a
traveller.
An old Armenian priest was one of the visitors. He sat by the side of
the Mudir, on a raised platform in the centre of the room. The legs of
these two gentlemen were entirely hid from view, and although the room
was very chilly where I was sitting, the rest of the party did not seem
to feel the low temperature. I now discovered that there was a hole in
the platform. A pan of live charcoal had been placed in the recess.
The natives, enveloped in furs, and with their feet over the embers,
were able to withstand the cold. The platform was partly covered with
a Persian rug. A divan alongside the walls made up the furniture of
the room. In the background and near the door stood the servants of
the Mudir, and the less important inhabitants. It was not considered
etiquette for them to sit in the presence of their superiors. They
remained with arms folded and eyes bent down in token of humility. When
the Mudir thought that they had humbled themselves sufficiently, he
made a sign to them. They all squatted down on their haunches.
"Has the Conference commenced?" inquired the Mudir.
"Yes."
"What is it all about?" said another old Turk, the Cadi.
"It is to see if arrangements can be made so as to prevent war," I
replied.
"But we do not want to go to war with any one," said the Mudir. "Russia
wishes to go to war with us."
"Why is the Conference not held at St. Petersburg?" asked another of
the visitors.
"Because Russia is strong and we are weak—the other powers are afraid
of Russia," said the Cadi.
"Do Englishmen like Russia?" inquired the Mudir.
"Some do, and some do not," I replied.
"Do you?"
"I like the people, but do not like the government."
"Why?"
"Because it is a despotic form of government, and in my opinion all
despotisms are bad."
"I like to hear that," said the Mudir.
"So do I," said each one of the assembled guests, taking the cue from
the governor.
"Will England be our ally in the case of war?" asked the Cadi.
"I do not know, but I hope so."
Some one now entered and spoke a few words to the Mudir. The latter
left the room: he was followed by the rest of the visitors, with the
exception of the Armenian priest.
"How do you like the Turks?" I asked.
"Very well," replied the old man, at the same time blowing his nose
in his dressing-gown, pocket handkerchiefs being apparently unknown in
this part of Turkey. "Here," he added, "the population is half Armenian
and half Turk, this makes a considerable difference. In other villages,
where the Mohammedans outnumber the Christians, the latter sometimes
suffer."
"What do you mean by suffer? Are they tortured?"
"No, never," replied the priest, "but if a Turk were to strike an
Armenian, and the latter were to hit him back, all the Turks in the
neighbourhood would set upon the Christian. Then, if the Christian
should complain to the Mudir, the Turk would bring witnesses to say
that the Armenian called him the grandson or great-grandson of a dog.
The Christian's word would not be taken as evidence. But things are
much better than they used to be, and here we get on well with the
Mussulmans."
My English servant was very much excited that evening. At dinner-time
he put down my plate with a bang on the table, and every now and then
looked at Osman with an air of supreme contempt.
"What has happened?" I at last inquired. "Have you and Osman been
fighting, or are you both in love with the same woman?"
"No, sir, but that Hosman he ain't taken the pack-saddle off our
horse's back since we left Scutari. Every night I tells him about it,
and he takes no notice of me whatever. I expect that our oss has an
awful back—a nasty unfeeling brute is Hosman, sir. How would he like a
saddle on his own back night and day for fourteen days?"
"Well," I said, "go to the stable, take off the saddle, and tell me in
the morning if the horse's back is sore or not."
I did not share the apprehensions of my English servant. The Turkish
pack-saddle is admirably suited for a long journey. During previous
expeditions in the East, I had seen some Tartars who kept their horses
saddled for weeks and even months together, and all this without in any
way injuring the animals. The two English riding-saddles which I had
brought from Constantinople, had already proved a source of annoyance
to me. Our steeds had lost a great deal of flesh, owing to the long
and frequent marches, and the panels required fresh stuffing. The grey
horse which I rode had been slightly rubbed. In consequence of this
I had changed saddles with Osman, who was much lighter than myself.
The Turkish saddle not having a panel, is better adapted for long
marches. Unfortunately it is an uncomfortable one for the horseman: my
own experience being that the English saddle galls the steed, but the
Turkish one the rider.