The Kurd—His bonnet—Mohammed is ill—Radford doctors him—The
mustard plaster—The plaster is cold—Where has the Frank put
the flames—An old frost-bite—The two merchants—Bayazid—A
Turkish lieutenant—A very dirty Christian—Crossing the
Araxes—Kupri Kui—Yusueri—Deli Baba—Earthenware jars—How they
are made—When the winter is over—Procrastination.
In the next room, which was only separated from us by a railing about
three feet high, there were buffaloes, cows, calves, and pigeons,
besides the relatives of the Armenian, the postman, and a Kurd. The
latter individual had a wonderful turban in the shape of a bonnet on
his head. It was made of blue satin, and adorned with gold thread. He
was evidently very proud of this attire, and told the Armenian that he
had purchased it at Erzeroum, and that, when he had finished wearing
the turban, he should give it to his favourite wife.
Presently an Armenian woman brought in a wooden tray, on which were
several of the cakes which are used as bread by the inhabitants, and
some oily soup.
The Kurd, postman, and Armenians, squatting round the dishes, devoured
the contents with rapidity.
Mohammed was lying in a corner of my room; from time to time a groan
escaped his lips. I discovered that he was suffering from rheumatism.
Radford had put a mustard plaster on him by way of alleviating the pain.
Mohammed had been told that he was to keep it on all night. The mustard
was rapidly creating a blister.
"Atech—fire!" said the Turk, pointing to his back.
"Yes," said Radford. "Hottish—I should say it was. It will be better
presently."
"Turkish is very like English, sir," observed my man to me. "You see
that he says it is 'hottish.'"
"Nonsense!" I replied. "He says 'atech—fire.'"
"'Atech,' or 'hottish,' it don't make much difference, sir; the plaster
is raising a beautiful blister. I should not be surprised if Mohammed
left off complaining about his haches and pains after this. I don't
think that as how any other Turks will ask me to doctor them again!"
Radford was wrong. The sound of Mohammed's groans attracted the Kurd's
attention: accompanied by the Armenian, he came to the side of the
sufferer. They minutely inspected the plaster.
"It is a wonder!" said the Kurd. "The plaster is cold, but Mohammed
says he is on fire! Where has the Frank put the flames? I should like
a plaster too." Turning to Radford, he held out his hand for one.
"Plasters are for sick people, not for men in a good state of health,"
I observed.
"But I am not well," said the Kurd.
"What is the matter with you?"
"I have a pain here;" taking off his slipper, he showed the remains
of an old frost-bite. "The cold did this," he added: "the fire there,"
pointing to the wet paper, "will put it right again."
I had considerable difficulty in explaining to the man that the plaster
in question would be a useless remedy.
The following morning the wind blew harder than before. The mountain
which barred our progress was entirely hid from view in what seemed
to be a whirlwind of snowy particles. The cold, too, was intense. The
thermometer was still several degrees below zero.
"It is no good starting," said the postman, coming to me; "to-day the
sun does not shower its rays upon our destiny. Fortune is against us.
We must wait here till the wind goes down."
The two merchants had made another attempt to ascend the mountain
a little before daybreak. They had found it impossible to cross the
passes. The track was hid from their view by the snow. They were half
blinded by the flakes which the wind carried with it in its course.
There was nothing to be done but to wait patiently. In conversation with
a Turkish lieutenant, I discovered that it would be possible to reach
Bayazid, and from Bayazid there was a road to Van. It would be a much
longer route than the one which led direct from Erzeroum to Van.
The officer interrupted me in my reflections, and proposed that we
should go to Bayazid.
"Who knows," he continued, "how long we may have to wait here? The
mountain is sometimes impassable for two or three weeks at a time;
and, besides this, the smell in this room is enough to poison any one.
These Christians do stink," he added, pointing to my Armenian host
and hostess, who, begrimed with dirt, were squatting in a corner—the
woman engaged in making some cakes with flour and water, and the man in
looking for what it is not necessary to mention amidst his clothes.
The Russian moujik is not a sweet animal; a Souakim Arab, with hair
piled up two feet above his head, and covered with liquid fat, is an
equally unpleasant companion; but either of these gentlemen would have
smelt like Rowland's Macassar oil in comparison with my Armenian host,
who, apparently, had no ideas beyond that of manufacturing fuel from
cows' dung. His conversation was entirely engrossed with this subject.
It was also an important topic with the rest of his family, who were
all longing for the frost to go, so as to commence making the article
in question on a large scale.
Wood is very dear in these parts. The inhabitants would die if they had
not a supply of fuel. It is not surprising that they take a considerable
interest in their tezek. But to hear this subject discussed from
morning to night, and in a room with an atmosphere like a sewer—besides
being ill at the time—was a little annoying to my senses. I made up
my mind that, if the weather did not improve in the course of the next
twenty-four hours, I would continue my journey towards Bayazid.
The lieutenant would accompany me in that direction. He was a very
cheery little fellow, and not at all disposed to hide his own lights
beneath a bushel. He had been a lieutenant about six years, and took an
opportunity to mention to me this fact. He knew that I had stayed with
Ismail Pacha in Erzeroum, and was in hopes that I would write to the
governor, and casually mention his, the lieutenant's, name as a gallant
and exceedingly efficient officer.
There was no improvement in the weather. The following morning I left
Herteff for Bayazid—the postman remaining behind with the letters.
We crossed the Araxes on the ice. The river was said to be only two
feet deep. Kupri Kui was about one mile from our track. Here there is a
bridge over the stream, which is about thirty yards wide, besides being
deep. Our track was firm and level. There were no mountains to cross.
Every now and then we passed by villages; they all contained soldiers,
and, so far as I could learn, there were about 8000 troops echeloned
between Erzeroum and Bayazid.
After a seven hours' march, we halted at Yusueri, an Armenian village.
From here it was a three hours' ride to Deli Baba, a celebrated gorge
or mountain pass, and the most important place, from a military point
of view, on the road to the Russian frontier.
The women in the house where I was lodged were busily engaged in making
some large earthenware jars. Taking some clay from the soil, they knead
it for several hours with their fingers, and then form it into the
shape they require. In every house there is a hole left in the floor,
which is used as an oven. The women place the jars in this receptacle,
and, filling the space between them with tezek, set fire to it. They
afterwards colour the pottery by some process of which I am ignorant.
The result is an extremely well made and serviceable article, in which
they keep their corn, flour, and household goods.
Now we came to the famous pass of Deli Baba. It is about a quarter of a
mile long. High and precipitous rocks are on either hand, and the gorge
is not more than forty yards wide at the exit from the defile towards
Bayazid. It is a spot where a thousand resolute men, well supplied with
ammunition, might keep at defiance a force of a hundred times their
number. However, in spite of the extreme importance of the position,
nothing had been done to strengthen any part of it.
"We are going to throw up earthworks, and place some batteries here
when the winter is over," was the reply of the lieutenant, when I
interrogated him on this subject.
"When the winter is over:" "Not to-day, to-morrow:" this is the
stereotyped answer which a Turk has always at the tip of his tongue.
Until the Sultan's subjects can shake off the apathy which prevails
throughout the empire, it will be difficult for them to hold their own
against other nations.