INTO ALBANIA
We caught the mayor in the morning. He was in his shirt-sleeves and he
said that the auto had been arranged for. It came and we packed in. On
the back perched a boy who outsmelt any Serb we had ever found. It
seemed impossible that a human could so smell and yet live. Suddenly the
boy drew a packet from his pocket and the smell became intolerable. He
unwrapped a piece of cheese and, gasping for breath, we watched it
disappear. When it had gone we breathed more freely, but the odour still
clung to the youth, and we were not sorry when the auto pulled up at the
village of Plavnitza on the edge of the lake. A man, who said that he
had been sent to help us, dragged us to the telephone office. He worried
the instrument for a while and announced that the boat would be here in
two hours. It would have come earlier, but somehow they couldn't make
steam get up. We expected it to come in four, and so went off to get
something to eat.
The lake was very high, coming right up to the road. All the low fields
were covered with water as far as one could see. The girl at the inn was
shuddering and shivering with malaria, and we gave her some quinine. At
last the steamer came.
We had to pack into one of those cockhat boats, as the quay was
separated from the village by half a mile of water. When we got to the
steamer, the captain leaned over the side and shouted--
"Where are the mattresses?"
"What mattresses?" said the harbour-master.
"When are you going to start?" demanded we, clambering on board.
"When I get the mattresses," said the captain.
"But what mattresses?" replied the harbour-master.
"I was sent to get mattresses," said the captain, "and here I wait till
they come."
This was a nuisance, nobody had said anything about the mattresses.
"I shan't go till to-morrow anyhow," said the skipper.
"I think we'd all better go back to Podgoritza and come again
to-morrow," said the man in charge.
"We don't move from here," said Jo, firmly. "If he won't go we'll sit on
this boat--which was sent for us--and sing songs all night so that he
shan't sleep."
The captain refused to move without the mattresses and we refused to go
back, so a violent argument ensued. We remained adamant. At last in
despair the harbour master said that he would go and telephone. Night
was coming on, the deck was chilly, so Jan went to explore. The quay was
half under water, but by jumping from stone to stone one could get
about, and Jan discovered an entrance into the stone storehouse. The
door was boarded up, but he forced his way in, discovering a huge empty
interior banked up well above the water. At one end was a platform made
of boards on tubs. An ideal bed. He called the company and they arranged
themselves on the planks, though some were dismayed at the prospect of
getting no supper. The boards were loose and as each took his place they
bobbed up and down. Miss Brindley said that it seemed like sleeping on
the keyboard of a piano. We did not expect to see anything before
morning of the harbour-master or of Stajitch who had gone with him; but
just as we were settled and beginning to snore and the rats were running
about, Stajitch poked his head through the window and said that the boat
was going immediately. We reluctantly got up, for we were really rather
cosy, packed again and hopped in the moonlight from stone to stone till
we got to the ship--which was the same old Turkish gunboat on which we
had travelled once before. The thing was then explained--a telegraphic
mistake. The captain had been ordered to fetch the strangers: but
strangers and mattresses are only one letter different, "n" or "m," this
letter had been transposed.
Luckily it was a beautiful moonlight night. The lake was wonderfully
romantic. A fat Serbian captain, who seemed to know Stajitch, made a
request. He said that he had been cut off from his division, which was
at Monastir, and that he was going to try and rejoin them. He ask us if
he could join our party, as it would come cheaper at the hotels and he
could get transport.
It was pretty cold on the lake, but we wrapped ourselves in our blankets
and said the view was lovely. Hunger was also gnawing within us, so we
were glad when at last the rumbling old engines halted and the steamer
gave three hoots. We waited anxiously, and at last a large rowboat came
sideways against the steamer. Four carriages were waiting in the bazaar.
A very polite Montenegrin doctor welcomed us at the hotel and we got
some much desired food.
Bed was beginning to be a mere commonplace now, but we enjoyed it for
all that, and slept well into the morning.
Scutari wore its usual air of "the ballet" when we arose. The ladies
dressed all in their best clothes, and with great flowing veils and wide
skirted coats were hobbling to church. The shopkeepers, with their long
black and white legs and coloured shirts, were lounging about the low
counters of their shops, smoking and drinking coffee brought them (on
little swinging trays) by boys.
The British consul had taken up his quarters at the "Maison Piget." The
house was gated, as are all Albanian houses, but this gate was like an
old feudal portal. The doors were wonderfully carved and were opened by
our old friend the Wolf. We had thought him to be a servant of Suma's,
but it appeared that he belonged to the British Empire.
The house was crammed full of arms: a little cannon threatened us on the
stairway, swords, claymores, creeses, falchions, scimitars, glaives,
dirks, and yatagans were nailed on all the walls, and there were muskets
of every sort and size, heavy arquebuses from the north and gas-pipe
guns and Arab horsemen firelocks with polished stocks like the handle of
a corkscrew, all inlaid with gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl.
"Yes," said the consul, gazing reflectively, "he had a taste for
weapons. And also for old cookery books."
The consul said that he thought that there was a boat at San Giovanni.
We cheered, for our luck seemed to be holding, and while he went off to
the Italian consul we went to the governor to beg for transport. Neither
consul nor governor was in, but we caught the Italian consul in the
afternoon. He admitted that there was a boat, but warned us that it was
no nosegay. He said that two Frenchmen who had thought of taking it had
sent him back a telegram which had quite unnerved him.
"Et je n'ai jamais dit qu'elle était une Transatlantique," he said,
waving his arms.
He said that the archbishop had told him that a party of English had
come into the town last night, "en haillons," but that he had not
believed it possible. However, he had seen two of us in the street that
morning, and had realized that it was true.
We said that any boat would do. He warned us of the danger of
submarines.
At the consul's house we found the captain of the Miridites awaiting us.
He was a heavy-looking man with European clothes and a fez. After the
ceremonious coffee he made a set speech, saying that he was paying his
duties to the great British Empire, and that England was their only
hope. The consul sat rather wishing that he wouldn't, and that his
servant had said that he was not at home. In common with most of the
Christian rulers of Albania this gentleman seemed to have spent most of
his time in exile.
Returning to the hotel Jan found that Jo had been purchasing, and he
dragged her and Miss Brindley off to see the archbishop. The cathedral
still carries the scars of the first bombardment. The archbishop, a
large flat man, gave us each a hand as though he expected us to kiss it;
he had a huge archiepispocal ring and a lot of imperiosity. He seemed
more political than bishopy, though most of the Churchmen are; and there
is the tale of one who said, "I would rather people went to drill than
to church." There were a lot of wealthy looking Albanians sitting round
and being respectable. The archbishop spoke no French nor German, only
Italian. But Jan, with the help of a lot of old musical terms, and an
imperfectly forgotten Spanish, managed to convey to him some
intelligible compliments and sentences. We got out at last, and his
eminence accompanied us to the top of the stairs and gave us the
difficult problem of bowing backwards as we went down. This visit was
necessary, as we might have had to get a "Besa" from him if we meant to
go through to Durazzo.
The Serbian captain who had been on the Turkish gunboat met us in the
street. He dragged us into a café and began to order beer by the
half-dozen. He presented Jo with a small Turkish gold coin, which was
valued at five shillings, as a bribe to allow him to join our party. As
he already had permission it seemed superfluous.
Some of our party were still pretty seedy. Two had gone to a shop in
search of castor oil. A very old and withered chemist, who spoke bad
French, invited them in and asked for an account of their adventures,
interrupting them with explosions of "Ah poves, poves, poves, poves."
"Ah, poves, poves, poves, poves," between every incident and also at the
final request for the medicine. He showed them to the door and suddenly
burst into unexpected English.
"Good naite, vairey good. I am your poppa."
In the hotel café we found two French aeroplanists, for four had arrived
that day, sailing down over the city, to the great terror of the
inhabitants. They seemed to be afflicted with the same idea as "Quel
Pays."
"Ah, monsieur et dame," said they, "quel pays."
We asked them how things were.
"We have just come from Prizren. The Serbs are in a dreadful condition.
All the roads are covered with starving and dying people. The troops are
eating dead horses and roots. There have been violent snow blizzards all
over the mountains. We saw some of your people, too, doctors and nurses,
they were going off to Ipek, 'dans une condition déplorable.' We came
across the mountains; one of us is lost. Awful country, nowhere to land
if anything went wrong and one of our machines has not arrived. God
knows what has happened to them. The rest of us are all coming along on
foot. We burnt fifty motor cars yesterday, monsieur, that made a blaze."
We asked them what sort of a time they had had in Serbia; but much of
their answer is unpublishable.
"Each time we ascended every Serbian regiment fired at us. Once we came
down over a battalion and the whole lot fired volleys, and when we
landed and stood in front of our machine holding up our hands," they
pantomimed, "they continued to fire at us. Then they came and took us
prisoners, and were going to shoot us, although one of us had a military
medal. A schoolmaster recognised us as French and rescued us. Our
machine was broken; but we could get no transport and had to walk thirty
kilometres back to our base without food.
"Another time we were chasing an Austrian, the Serbian batteries fired
at us, monsieur, not at the enemy. Our officers had to send from the
aerodrome to tell them to stop."
As we were going to bed the Montenegrin doctor came in.
"I am sent by the governor, monsieur," said he. "We do not consider it
safe, this boat idea. Austrian submarines are everywhere, and the
governor would feel it as a personal responsibility if you were drowned.
We will provide carriages to Alessio and thence arrange horses--only one
day and a half on to Durazzo. Thence Essad Pasha will give you his motor
boat and you can easily get to Valona."
Our men groaned at the thought of more journeying. They were all
thoroughly fed up with the road, though personally we rather liked the
idea. We had heard that Durazzo was very interesting, and would have
liked to have met Essad, though we did not know just how his politics
were trending. We decided to see the Italian consul once more.
Next day we hunted up the mayor, Mahram Beg, a Turk, for he also could
give us a "Besa" if necessary. He was at last discovered, a little
crumpled looking man in an office. We were not allowed to interview him
in private, but a Montenegrin was there and all conversation had to
pass by him like through an imperfect telephone. We gave the mayor a
greeting from Colonel P----and little else. A very disappointing
interview.
Jan went off to see the governor, who received him kindly. He said that
he would arrange everything, but that it was difficult for him with the
Italian consul, as the Powers did not recognize the Montenegrin
occupation.
"You see, monsieur, here I am the law, and yet the law does not
recognize me."
The Italian assured us that the Montenegrins were wrong, and that of
course the boat would be escorted, and the danger reduced to its least
possible amount. Just after we had left him we heard two things which
made us jump.
A body of English officers had landed at Medua, and ninety English
refugees from Serbia were _en route_ for Scutari. Could we not catch the
transport and at the same time leave room for the others? Suma came in,
and we consulted him. He was doubtful if the horses could be got at
Alessio for us.
"You see, it is Albania and not Montenegro," he repeated.
We accordingly hunted up the doctor. He promised us horses for the
morrow. The carriages had all gone to fetch the English officers. We
asked him about Alessio, and he assured us that the telephone message
had been received saying that they were waiting. We asked him several
times until he grew angry and said--
"Do you doubt my honour, then?"
Before we went to bed the hotel proprietor came to us.
"Do you pay or the Government?" asked he; and seemed very relieved when
we told him that we paid. The Montenegrins are neither loved nor trusted
here.
The next morning the horses came, but very late. In the crowd watching
our departure was an old Albanian without a moustache. That was a
strange sight; we looked harder. It was a woman. She must have been one
of those who had sworn eternal virginity, and so achieve all a man's
privileges, even eating with them instead of getting the scraps left
over from the meal. But the punishment of death awaited her if she
failed her vow. Here was one, chuckling and grinning at some of us in
our attempts to mount the weird saddles and weirder steeds which had
been provided. The Serb captain had a carriage, and another carriage
took all our baggage, which had now sadly dwindled owing to the
continued depredations of the police. We straggled out of the town and
through the crowded bazaar, for it was a Saturday. Passed the Venetian
fort and the river from which stuck the funnel of the steamer so
mysteriously sunk one night. We had heard that the Turkish gun flat
which had transported us had burst her boilers, so now the Montenegrins
had no steamers left.
The road was level and better than many we had come over, though once or
twice the carriages were hopelessly mired, and had to be pushed across.
West's horse had ideas about side streets, and bolted down each as he
came to it.
We met the Adriatic Commission. Mr. Lamb and Mr. George Paget, returning
after so long an absence, were in the first carriage. We recognized Mr.
Paget at once, for though either of them might have liked old arms, only
one would have collected old cookery books. The rest of the commission
came along later. They stopped us. We expected questions about the
Serbs; but no. They said--
"Can one buy underclothing in Scutari?"
Their baggage transport had been sunk by an Austrian submarine and they
had only what they were wearing. We wished each other luck and went on.
There was no hope of arriving at Alessio that night, we had started too
late. As evening was falling, we came to an Albanian inn and decided to
put up.
There was a stable full of manure on the ground floor, through which one
had to pass, and in the dark one was continually slipping into the
midden or running one's head unexpectedly into horses' hindquarters. Up
a rickety stair were two rooms. The floor rocked as we walked over it,
and every moment we expected to go through and be precipitated into the
manure below. The walls and floor were so loosely made that the wind
blew through in all directions, and we called it the "castle in the
air." We supped on chickens which we had brought from Scutari, and
Whatmough and Elmer made a fire in the yard and got us cocoa. By this
time we were all getting fed up with romantic surroundings, and wanted
something more solid. The swarthy countenances about the bonfire, the
queer costumes in the flickering fire, left us unmoved.
Sleep was impossible. The wind caught one in every corner, threatening
lumbago. Stajitch fled and camped outside in one of the carriages,
despite the rain.
[Illustration: ALBANIAN MULE DRIVERS CAMPING.]
We started as early as possible--dawn. Whatmough, Cutting, Jo and Jan
lost the road, but were eventually rescued by a policeman. About eleven
one of the carriages broke down, and we had to repair it with tree and
wire. Here the houses were again like fortresses, and everybody
stared at us as though we came from the moon.
We reached the bank opposite Alessio--a small Turkish-looking village
divided between a mud-bank and a hillside. We were about to turn over
the bridge when news was brought that a motor-boat belonging to Essad
was in San Giovanni harbour. We sent a policeman galloping on to stop
it, and followed as fast as our meagre horses would allow. We also heard
that a submarine had been in the port the day before and had tried to
torpedo the ships lying there--but had missed.
We cantered on, pressing along a stony road which was almost level with
the salt marshes on either side. San Giovanni appeared after about an
hour and a half. We rode down on to the beach. The motor-boat was
getting up anchor. We yelled to the skipper, but he understood no Serb;
so we translated through a Turk who was lounging about. The skipper said
that he could not embark us there as it was Montenegrin territory, but
that if we would go back to Alessio he would wait for us at the mouth of
the river and take us down that very night. This seemed too good to be
true and we hurried back, passing an Austrian torpedo which had run up
on the brown sand--a present from yesterday's raid. We turned the others
and cantered ahead to get a boat; reached the bridge once more and
crossed into Albania. Officials ran from all sides to stop us, but we
ignored them, dismounted, and ran to the side of the river where boats
were loading, overloading with passengers. The boatmen refused to take
us if we had no passes from the governor.
We hunted the governor's office up the hillside, panting in our haste.
We burst in upon him. He was a dirty man in an unclean shirt and unkempt
trousers.
"We want to go by the motor-boat," we explained.
"Who are you?" he asked, picking his teeth.
"We are the English about whom the governor of Scutari has telegraphed."
"I don't know anything about you," he said. His manner was ungracious.
"But," we said, "they assured us that they had telegraphed from
Scutari."
The telegraph clerk was brought, and denied that any message had come.
"Anyhow," said the governor, "the motor-boat is for Albanian soldiers
only, and has gone twenty minutes ago. I can do nothing for you without
authority from Durazzo."
We wandered dismally back through the town and were immediately
arrested by the bridge officials because we had not paid the toll rates.
We paid double to get rid of them.
We found an inn. It was the usual sort of building only of stone, and so
dirtier than the others. Some travelling show seemed to have left its
scenery in lieu of its bill, for bits of painted canvas did duty as
partitions.
There was a room with six beds, but one was reserved for an Albanian
officer. We took the rest. We loitered about all the afternoon, and in
the evening the Albanian officer came in. He was a beaky-faced,
unpleasant-looking man, but he procured us some bread, which we sorely
lacked. The hotel had little food, so we gave them our rice. By this
time fleas had got into it, and seeming to like it had bred in
quantities. Still as we had nothing else it had to be cooked, and we
picked out the boiled fleas as well as we were able. The Serbian captain
started drinking with the Albanian, and soon both were well over the
edge of sobriety.
They came up long after we had turned in, fell over Cutting, who cursed
them without stint, and tumbled on to the beds which we had left for
them. The Albanian made some remarks about the ladies, which from the
tone were insults; but we were unable to chastize him, or we should all
have been put into prison.
They snored and coughed all night, and spat about in the dark. Those who
were sleeping near cowered beneath the mackintosh sheets and prayed for
luck. But in the morning we found that they had been spitting on the
wall.
[Illustration]