THE FLEA-PIT
Those comfortable folks who have never slept out of a bed do not know
how annoying a blanket may be, if there is nothing into which to tuck
its folds. Wrap yourself up in one, lie flat and motionless on the
floor, and we guarantee that in an hour the blanket has unrolled itself
and is making frantic efforts to escape. Every night on the road
resolved into a half-dazed attempt to hold on to the elusive wrap. Sleep
came in as a second consideration, and when we say we awoke on any
particular morning, it really means that we got up, though several of us
in the intervals of blanket catching did get in a snore or two.
Well, we got up, then, in good time next day, hoping to rectify the
professor's interference, and stumbling along with Stajitch, we reached
the high-roofed "Dürer" dwelling where resided the commandant of the
village. In the kitchen we found two women with bare feet, two children
and a man half undressed. He brought in the captain, also in negligée.
Now, mark, we were in Montenegro. We exposed our grievance to the
captain and roundly denounced the professor as an interfering old
beggar. The captain first gave us coffee, second hurried us to his
office, third called in three henchmen and issued rapid orders.
"Certainly, certainly. You shall have all the horses you need. Just only
wait one little quarter of an hour. I will give you four policemen to go
with you."
We protested that four was too many.
"No, no," he said, "you had better have four."
We went back joyfully to the hotel. Cutting or one of the others had
been exploring and had gotten twenty eggs. The hotel people consented to
cook them. While we were outside looking at the mosques and wondering
when the horses were coming, the professor walked into the bar-room.
"Ah," said he, "eggs."
"They belong to the English," said the hostess.
"Good," said the professor, and swallowed four.
Just then we returned.
"But there are only sixteen eggs," said we.
"The professor has eaten the others," said the woman, pointing.
In a minute the professor wished that he had not. Jan took the
opportunity of saying a few things which had been boiling within him. He
accused the wretched man of interference in assuming control of the
expedition; he said that he was a mere hanger-on, and a useless and
selfish one at that.
The professor wilted. He made a thousand apologies, and finally ran off
wringing his fat hands, found with great difficulty four more eggs and
cast them into the boiling water.
"There," he said, "you can have your four eggs."
"It's not the eggs," answered Jan, "it's you."
Jo was roaring with laughter. Some of the morning she had been in a
woman's house listening to one of the policeman's tales of the
professor, and soon the whole village was rocking with amusement at
"Teshko."
At last the horses arrived--six miserable-looking beasts, but this time
all had shoes. One was commandeered by the professor.
"He is the greatest philosopher in all Serbia," whispered an official to
Jan.
"Ah, I guessed there must be some reason," said Jan.
We had a send-off, all the village came to see us go away. The day was
a repetition of our previous experiences. A long tramp in the mud. At
the top of the highest pass we had yet reached was an old wooden
blockhouse.
We came upon it unexpectedly, rounding a corner. Montenegrin soldiers
were cooking at a wood fire; but we were surprised to find all round the
square log cabin deep rifle pits, the best we had yet seen in Serbia.
"Good Lord, what are those for?" said Jan.
"This is an old Turkish post," said the sergeant. "It has been kept up.
We don't know why."
We walked off meditating. Montenegrins do not squander soldiers without
reason; and then one's mind went back to the four armed guards who were
accompanying us.
We discovered the truth later, let us tell the story here.
Berane, to which we were descending, was once a populous growing Turkish
town. After the Balkan war it fell into Montenegrin territories. The
Montenegrins chased out all the Turkish landowners, who fled to these
mountains, where they formed bands of brigands and caused no little
consternation and trouble to the authorities, who could not catch them.
The authorities passed a little Act, reinstating the landowners in
their territories; but when an attempt was made to put the Act into
force, it was found that the authorities themselves were in possession
of the lands. What was to be done? The blockhouse was the solution.
We stopped at a primitive café and lunched. Jo gave the children some
chocolate. They did not know what it was. She smeared some on to the
baby's lips, and after that it sucked hard. Soon the little girl licked
hers; but the boy, more suspicious, would not eat, holding the lump till
it melted into a sticky mass in his fingers. The scenery was very
beautiful. There was a faint rain which greyed everything, and the near
birches had lost all their leaves and the twigs made a reddish fog
through which could be seen the slopes of the opposite hillsides. The
professor began to be worried about the rain.
"If this should turn to snow," said he, "we would be snowed up. And I am
sure I don't know what I should do if I were snowed up."
We hoped to reach our halting place, which was called Vrbitza, before
dark; but it was further away than our informant had said. Once more we
found ourselves floundering about in the mud of the village path after
dusk. We reached houses which we could not see; walked over slippery
poles set over heaven knows what middens. Clambered up creaky steps
into the usual sort of dirty wooden room--and there, his stockings off,
warming his toes at the blaze of the wood fire, was "Eyebrows."
We were immediately attracted by three paintings on the wall. They were
decorative designs, very beautiful. We asked the proprietor who had done
them.
"I did," he said.
"Will you sell them?" we asked.
He giggled like a girl. "Ah, who would buy them?" he said.
"We will."
"I couldn't let you have them for less than sixpence," he said. "You see
the papers cost a penny each."
Whatmough coveted one, so he had his choice, we took the other two.
The policeman came to tell us that rooms had been prepared in two clean
houses. We scrambled out into the dark again, stumbled along in the mud,
and at last found an open square of light, through which we came into a
room.
There was a red rug over half the floor, and a brasier on three legs
filled with charcoal standing in the centre. One or two of our men had
already found the place and were lying on the rug. In one corner was a
large baking oven like a beehive, half in one and half in the room next
door. A wide shelf ran from the beehive almost to the open door. There
were two small windows, each about the size of this book wide open. Jan
and Jo sniffed. Where had they smelt that odour before?
An old woman in Albanian costume crept up to Jo and caught her by the
skirt.
"See," she said, dragging her into the next room, "here is a fine bed.
The ladies will sleep with me this night."
Jo looked at the old lady's greasy hair and filthy raiment.
"We always sleep with our own people," she said firmly.
The old lady protested. All the while our men were packing the baggage
beneath the shelf. It was a tight fit, but at last it was got in.
The professor entered once more on the scene.
"This house will do very well for the common people," he said, "but the
Herr Commandant" (meaning Jan) "and the two ladies will come over to
sleep with me."
"No, we won't," said Jan, Jo and Miss Brindley in one voice.
"Then what will you do?"
"We will give you two policemen, or all four if you like. We will pack
in here somehow. You can take the other house all to yourself."
"That will not do," said the professor. "If you are all determined to
sleep here, I too, will come here. You will need somebody to protect
you."
Jo's back went up.
"If you are afraid to sleep in the other house," she said, "you can
sleep here with us. But if you are coming here to protect us, we don't
require _you_."
"But you do not understand," said the professor kindly, as if to a
child: "there is danger. You will need me to protect you."
"Not in the least," answered Jo. "If you will say that you are afraid,
we will offer you our shelter. Otherwise you can have all four policemen
at the other house."
The professor was afraid to say that he was afraid, so after stating
that we were curious people, he went off with the guards.
With great difficulty we packed in. Cutting and Whatmough were forced to
climb on to the shelf and the brazier was pushed out of the room. One by
one we rolled up in our rugs, made pillows out of a pair of boots or a
cocoa tin, cursed each other for taking up so much space, and at last
all were jammed together like sardines. It was like the family in the
drawing: If father says turn, we all turn.
We did not rest well. Thirteen people in a room which would comfortably
hold three was a little too close packing. There was a lot of grumbling
coming from one corner, and after a while a light was struck.
"Good lord," said somebody, "my pillow's crawling!"
Bugs were cascading down the walls. Stajitch jumped to his feet, and
began stamping hard. "Rivers of them," he yelled.
Cutting and Whatmough were groaning about the heat, so we opened the
door. Immediately all the dogs of the village, half wolves, hurled
themselves at the lighted space. Stajitch slammed it just in time; had
they burst in, lying down as we were, we should have been unable to
protect ourselves.
A dark face peered in between the baking oven and the wall, a swarthy
Albanian face. It looked at us and then silently withdrew.
"It doesn't matter," said somebody at last, "we've got to stick it."
We roused up neither rested nor refreshed. The room seen in the dim
light of the morning seemed even more revolting than it had been the
night before. We demanded the bill, it was brought--five francs for
apples which we had bought. And for the room? Nothing. We gave our host
three francs extra, and he bowed, putting his hands to his bosom and
kissed our palms.
There was a good stiff clay soil waiting for our tiring feet, and by the
time we reached Berane, there was no thought of going further. Almost
every one was exhausted.
We reached the shores of the river. The bridge had been washed away, but
the inhabitants had made a boat like a sort of huge wooden shoe which
they dragged to and fro with ropes. We clambered in and were hauled
over. Our baggage had not yet arrived, so Jan and Stajitch ordered lunch
for the others and went down to see about it. Just as they were landed
on the opposite bank the rope broke. So all the Montenegrins and
Albanians who were working the ferry went off to a midday meal, leaving
the two with the pangs of hunger growling within, sitting on the bank.
After two hours' waiting the rope was repaired, and they got back to
lunch famishing. We then arranged sleeping places and locked up all the
baggage in an empty shop. Our room was one of those ordinary Montenegrin
bedrooms plastered with pictures. Amongst them was a postcard, and on it
was printed large in English in blue crystalline letters, "Never
Again."
Whence did it come, this enigmatic postcard, and what did it mean? It
seemed almost a solemn warning; yet in a hotel bedroom. What did the
hostess think it meant?
"Never Again."
Some of the men came in cheering, having found Turkish delight in one of
the shops. We were sadly needing sugar, as our last tin had been stolen
along with lots of other things. So we indulged in "Turkish" not wisely.
The professor got up to his old games again. Again he had told the
commandant that he was leading the British, and that we would rest the
next day, and again Jan had to pick him off his perch.
Some got a bed that night, the others had to sleep "in rows," half under
the beds and half projecting out. The people on the beds said it was a
funny sight.
When we unpacked at night we found who had been robbing us. The
policemen. We had missed many more things, but found that the amount
varied in direct ratio to the number of police who guarded us. All our
spare boots were now gone, Blease's overcoat, and also Miss Brindley's.
Jo had lost her only other coat and skirt, and one or two mackintoshes
were missing. Now we knew why the police wore long-skirted coats; but
what a disappointment the one must have had who lifted Jo's coat and
skirt.
Got off again in good time the next morning. Cutting and three others
stayed behind to look after the police. Lucky they did, because one of
the horses wore out, and the police would have left it on the road, pack
and all. As it was we left the horse grazing, but the baggage was
transferred.
There had been a decentish level road made from Andrievitza half way to
Berane, and women were working hard on the extension in the hopes of
getting it finished for the Serbs; but that they could never do, for
there were but few of them. Further on many of the bridges were
unfinished, and in one or two places a landslide had carried away the
road itself, leaving a deep clinging mud in its place, but we were
getting used to mud.
We met "Eyebrows" once more, just at the entrance to the village; but he
was going on to Pod, so had finally got a day ahead of us. Found rooms
in our old resting place.
The professor was threatening to accompany us to Italy--he was like the
old man of the sea. We got a telegram from the English Minister, saying
that he did not think we could ever get to Italy from Scutari. We
preferred to trust to our luck which so far had been wonderful,
especially in the matter of weather. In the evening the captain sent to
say that twenty horses would await us the next day. A motor car would
have been sent, he added, but almost all the bridges were washed away
and they could get no nearer than Liéva Riéka.
[Illustration]