IN HIDING WITH THE TURKS
Throughout the following weeks our new friends did all they could to
make us as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and we can never
be sufficiently grateful to them for thus enabling us to leave captivity
and reach home. They would never listen to any offers of payment, saying
they did not wish to be taken for men who had rescued us for money.
Going back to the morning of our first acquaintance, we left the guard
standing in the road while we, with all their ammunition and four of
their rifles, retraced our steps along the road towards the sea and then
branched off down a side track, finding a secure hiding-place in a thick
wood about a mile further on. We thought it might be as well to impress
the guard with the idea that we had been taken off by the "brigands"
against our will, and therefore got them to tie our hands together and
behaved as if we did not want to go with them at all. When out of
sight, we undid the cords and marched on again as really free men,
Bihgar Bey continually cheering us by saying, "Allons, enfants de la
patrie," which, considering his position as an outlaw, was distinctly
humorous. It was wonderful the inspiring effect the change from
captivity had upon Tip, who had been so seedy during the last few days;
now he began to recover rapidly and succeeded in marching all the
following night without any ill effects.
We had taken Sweet's kit with us, thinking we might meet him and that in
any case it would be of no use to leave it with the guard. After sorting
it out, we took one or two articles each and made our rescuers some
small presents from the remainder. Bihgar and Kiarmil went off to fill
our water-bottles and returned a little while later, after announcing
their approach by clapping their hands. This we found was the method
always adopted by the akhardash when meeting each other in woods or by
night.
It was arranged that two of them would accompany us down at nightfall to
a secure hiding-place, while the other two were to go in the opposite
direction to meet friends from Boiabad who were also joining the party
and, as far as we could make out, were bringing a good deal of money
with them. In the end, we set off about half-past seven under the
guidance of Keor, the old Armenian, while the other three set off again
towards Boiabad. They had told us that we should reach our hiding-place
in three hours, Bihgar Bey making our mouths water by describing it as a
place of milk and honey, where we would be provided with meat, butter,
eggs and cheese, all of which since we left Kastamuni had seemed the
greatest luxuries.
Keor started off at a trot down a path through the wood. He was carrying
his own rifle and one of our late guard's weapons, as well as four
bandoliers full of ammunition and a bag on his back. We three each
carried a rifle, but hoped there would be no more cold-blooded shooting
of the type that had effected our rescue. Keor's pace must have been
about five miles an hour, and we soon had to request him to go slower,
as I had a dicky knee which would be likely to give trouble going
downhill at a trot over a bad path with daylight almost gone. Our packs
with some of Sweet's kit were now a good weight, so that with a rifle in
addition we were well loaded. After being told that we should reach our
goal in three hours we felt fairly confident of attaining it in five,
especially as we kept up a good pace and the recognized halts were not
observed. Keor several times missed his way, but always found it in the
end. After a couple of hours we reached a river and wended our weary way
down its bed, first on one side, then crossing to the other side and
then back again. There was no path and we floundered along amongst the
boulders in the darkness. Whenever we halted, which was not often, Keor
always said it was now only one hour's march further.
About 3 a.m. we were going along a rough track beside the river bed when
suddenly my bad knee gave way and I took a complete toss, rifle and pack
going all over the place. There was nothing for it but to go on, so
tying up the knee with a puttee, I hobbled on--the others nobly helping
me by carrying my rifle. We were now all pretty well done and signs of
dawn began to show in the east. Keor was very anxious to get in, saying
there would be a great many gendarmes hereabouts the following day. At
length we left the river, climbed a small rise, and passed close to some
cottages, where the usual dogs soon started a chorus. This led to one or
two shots being fired, probably with the idea of scaring off robbers,
but, apparently, we were not actually seen. Finally, we dragged
ourselves up a steep track, and got to ground in a thick copse. We were
worn out; it was now a quarter-past five and we had done nine and a
quarter hours instead of the three we had been promised. Still, we were
free--and nothing else mattered. We put on what extra garments we had
and were very soon asleep.
A few hours later Keor disappeared and returned shortly afterwards with
what seemed to us a splendid breakfast: fried eggs, chapatties and
yoghourt. Apparently, we were close to the house of an akhardash, from
whom all this had been procured. Although some children came near us
during the day, we were not discovered, and remained quietly where we
were till nightfall. Then we tramped off once more, but only to halt at
a very short distance further on under some trees near a house, which
was probably the one our breakfast had come from. Here we were met by a
boy of fifteen, by name Aziz, who came to us through the trees with a
loaded rifle slung over his shoulder. Our friends always carried their
rifles with a round in the chamber, but with the bolt not pushed home.
We were continually expecting some accident to happen from this
practice, but luckily nothing did.
Of the rifles belonging to our four rescuers, two were short
Lee-Enfields which had been captured on the Gallipoli peninsula, and had
found their way to the bazaar in Constantinople, where they had been
retailed for LT.10 or nine pounds sterling: now, however, they assured
us that the price had gone up to LT.20. Musa had a Turkish Mauser, made
in Germany, while Keor possessed a Russian rifle. Aziz met us with an
old Greek weapon, but much to his delight was given one of the rifles
which had belonged to our guard. He was a very bright boy, and intensely
excited and jubilant over our rescue and the discomfiture of the guard.
In every case, the muzzle piece was removed so as to lighten the weapon,
a bayonet, apparently, not being considered worth carrying when fighting
gendarmes in the mountains. In addition to their rifles, some of our
friends carried Caucasian daggers. These are straight, with a very fine
sharp point and double-edged blade about fifteen inches long. They were
used for cutting brushwood, rigging up shelters in the woods, killing
sheep, or chopping up meat, as required. Whenever we halted, Keor used
to spend much loving care over his bandoliers of ammunition, seeing
that each round was clean and not too loose in its leather loop.
After a few minutes under the trees a woman brought us a frugal supper,
after which we set off accompanied by Aziz to find a hiding-place for
the following day. A short distance brought us to a small Turkish house
where a good deal of conversation took place between Keor, Aziz and the
owner. Finally, we were taken into a maize-field and camped under a tree
in the centre. The maize was seven or eight feet in height, so that we
were well concealed. Our host brought us some bedding, consisting of a
couple of old mattresses and quilts. During the following days we had a
pretty thorough experience of the delights of such bedding, and came to
the conclusion in the end that we should have been happier without any.
However, in the present case it was not so bad and we had a
comparatively undisturbed night. In the morning food was brought us by
our host, which consisted mostly of a vegetable stew and coarse bread.
The day was uneventful.
We spent another night in this field and moved on once more the
following evening. Keor declared it would only take us half an hour and
I trusted it might not be far, as my knee was not much better yet. It
amused us to think what a trio of crocks we seemed to be. Tip had been
ill off and on most of the time since we left Kastamuni. K. had been
very unwell that day and suffered a good deal on account of his short
sight; and I was dead lame. A few minutes after starting we met another
of the akhardash, a very good fellow named Kasim, and conversed with him
for a few minutes in the shade of a corn stack before proceeding.
It was a fine moonlight night, and we again passed the German wireless
station, which was now below us and between us and the sea. In not more
than an hour, we got close to the place appointed and after a long wait
were conducted to a spot which seemed very secure, as it was in the
centre of a thick copse with no houses near. Another youth turned up
here and, apparently, was the son of our new host. For the next three
days we stayed here, this boy bringing us food twice a day and telling
Keor all the local news. It was now we heard that Sweet had been retaken
or had had to give himself up and was being marched back to Kastamuni.
Later when Bihgar Bey and the others rejoined us they declared that
Sweet had gone back with an escort of no less than 60 gendarmes. The
idea of such a number being necessary tickled them immensely and they
evidently considered it a great compliment to the disturbance they had
caused, though they were genuinely sorry for Sweet and would have made
an effort to rescue him had it been possible.
Our menu was rendered more attractive now by our being able to get a
little butter and some fruit. As we had to keep still all day, there was
little to do except speculate as to the composition of the next meal,
and with having only two meals a day there was a considerable interval
between these events. K. spent some time in making up his diary and
checking dates. Our friends could never make out what he was writing
about, and would say, "Here there are trees and mountains but whatever
can a man find to write about?" Indeed, they never could make K. out
very well. Tip was far the most popular; for one thing the fact that he
was an aviator roused their imagination, and in addition his good humour
under all circumstances made him a great favourite. They always
addressed him as Kaptan, but only called K. and me, by our surnames. The
want of tobacco in the early days had not affected K. and me, as we did
not smoke, but Tip had had to go very short; now, however, the
akhardash seemed to have inexhaustible supplies and were always ready
to roll cigarettes for Tip--an art which he never succeeded in
mastering. One day Keor informed us that some of the akhardash including
Aziz had raided the German wireless station the night before, killing
all the Germans and taking a lot of money. This was absolutely untrue,
but he seemed to believe it and had evidently been told the story by the
boy bringing our food.