CHAPTER II.

THE GIPSY-VANS ENCOUNTER DIFFICULTIES.

My gipsy-van was not of doubtful character. I had purchased it direct

from the gipsies in England, and it had been specially arranged for the

Cyprus journey by Messrs. Glover Bros. of Dean Street, Soho, London. It

had been painted and varnished with many coats both inside and out, and

nobody, unless an experienced gipsy, would have known that it was not

newly born from the maker's yard. Originally it had been constructed for

shafts, as one horse was considered sufficient upon the roads of

England, but when it arrived in Cyprus it appeared to have grown during

the voyage about two sizes larger than when it was last seen. As the

small animals of Larnaca passed by, where my lovely van blocked up the

entire street, and forced the little creatures upon the footpath, they

looked in comparison as though they had just been disembarked upon Mount

Ararat from the original Noah's ark, represented by the gipsy-van! The

Cypriotes are polite, therefore I heard no rude remarks. The Cypriote

boys are like all other boys, therefore they climbed to the top of the

van, and endeavoured by escalade to enter the windows. On one occasion I

captured HALF A BOY (the posterior half) who was hanging with legs

dangling out of the window, his "forlorn-hope" or advance half vainly

endeavouring to obtain a resting-place upon vacuity within (as the fall

slab-table was down). I had no stick; but the toes of his boots had

imprinted first impressions upon the faultless varnish. What became of

that young Cypriote was never known.

Even in Cyprus there are municipal laws, and now that the English are

there they are enforced; therefore my huge van could not remain like a

wad in a gun-barrel, and entirely block the street. A London policeman

would have desired it to "move on" but--this was the real grievance

that I had against Larnaca--the van COULD NOT "MOVE ON," owing to its

extreme height, which interfered with the wooden water-spouts from the

low roofs of the flat-topped houses. This was a case of "real distress."

My van represented civilisation: the water-spouts represented barbarism.

If a London omnibus crowded with outside passengers had attempted to

drive through Larnaca, both driver and passengers would have been swept

into I have not the slightest notion where; and my van was two feet

higher than an omnibus!

I determined that I would avoid all inferior thoroughfares, and that the

van should pass down Wolseley Street, drawn by a number of men who would

be superior in intelligence to the Cypriote mules and be careful in

turning the corners.

I did not see the start, as a person with an "excess of zeal" had

started it with a crowd of madmen without orders, and I was only a late

spectator some hours after its arrival opposite Craddock's Hotel. It

rather resembled a ship that had been in bad weather and in collision

with a few steamers. How many water-spouts it had carried away I never

heard. The fore-axle was broken, as it appeared that in rounding a

corner it had been dragged by main force upon the curbstone about

sixteen inches high, from which it had bumped violently down. It had

then been backed against a water-spout, which had gone completely

through what sailors would term the "stern." One shutter was split in

two pieces, and one window smashed. Altogether, what with bruises,

scratches, broken axle, and other damages, my van looked ten years older

since the morning.

Fortunately among the Europeans who had flocked to Cyprus since the

British occupation was a French blacksmith, whose forge was only a few

yards from Craddock's Hotel, where my wrecked vessel blocked the way. I

had a new fore axle-tree made, and strengthened the hinder axle. I also

fitted a bullock-pole, instead of shafts, for a pair of oxen; the

springs I bound up with iron wire shrunk on while red-hot. I took out

the stove, as it was not necessary, and its absence increased the space;

and I inserted a ventilator in the roof in place of the chimney. When

repaired, the van looked as good as new, and was much stronger, and well

adapted for rough travel. The only thing it now wanted was a ROAD!

The highways of Cyprus were mere mule-tracks. The only legitimate road

in existence was of most recent construction, which represented the new

birth of British enterprise, from Larnaca to the capital, Nicosia (or

Lefkosia), about twenty-eight miles. The regrettable paucity of

stone-hammers rendered it impossible to prepare the metal, therefore

huge rounded blocks, bigger than a man's head, had been thrown down for

a foundation, upon which some roughly broken and a quantity of unbroken

smaller stones had been spread.

Of course there was only one method of travelling upon this route with

the gipsy-van: this was to avoid it altogether, but to keep upon the

natural soil on the side of the newly-made level.

My second van was most satisfactory, and was light in proportion to its

strength and capacity. This was arranged specially for luggage, and was

entirely closed by doors at either end, which were secured by bolts and

locks. Above the luggage, and about two feet six inches below the roof,

a sliding deck formed of movable planks afforded a comfortable

sleeping-berth for a servant. In the front a projecting roof sheltered

the driving seat, which was wide enough to accommodate four persons. I

had fitted a pole instead of shafts, as public opinion decided against

mules, and it was agreed that oxen were steadier and more powerful for

draught purposes. After a careful selection, I obtained two pairs of

very beautiful animals, quite equal in size to ordinary English oxen,

for which I paid twelve shillings per diem, including the drivers and

all expenses of fodder. I also engaged the necessary riding mules, as

the vans were not intended for personal travelling, but merely for

luggage and for a home at night. Our servants consisted of Amarn (my

Abyssinian, who had been with me eight years, since he was a a boy of

nine years old in Africa), a Greek cook named Christo, who had served in

a similar capacity upon numerous steamers, and a young man named Georgi,

of about twenty-one, who was to be made into a servant. This young

fellow had appeared one day suddenly, and solicited employment, while we

were staying at Craddock's Hotel; he was short, thickset, and possessed

a head of hair that would have raised the envy of Absalom: in dense

tangle it would have defied a mane-comb. Georgi had a pleasant

expression of countenance which did not harmonise with his exterior, as

his clothes were in a ragged and filthy condition, his shoes were in

tatters, and trodden down at the heel to a degree that resembled boats

in the act of capsizing; these exposed the remnants of socks, through

the gaps of which the skin of his feet was exhibited in anything but

flesh-colour. It is dangerous to pick up a "waif and stray," as such

objects of philanthropy frequently disappear at the same time as the

forks and spoons. In reply to my questions, I discovered that Georgi was

in fact the "prodigal son;" he had not been leading the fast life of

that historical character, but he had left his home in Mersine (on the

coast of Asia Minor) owing to an unfortunate disagreement with his

father. In such domestic estrangements, rightly or wrongly, the fathers

generally have the best of the situation, and Georgi, having left a

comfortable home (his father being what is called "well to do"), had

taken ship, and, like many others, had steered for Cyprus, where he

arrived unknown, and quickly experienced the desolation of an utter

stranger in a foreign town. Georgi became hungry; whether he had sold

his good clothes to provide for the coats of his stomach I cannot say,

but the rags in which he first appeared to me were utterly unsaleable,

and few people would have ventured upon an engagement with so

disreputable a person. However, I liked his face; he could speak Turkish

and Arabic fluently: Greek was his mother-tongue, and he had a

smattering of French. I sent for the tailor, and had him measured for a

suit of clothes to match those of Amarn--a tunic, waistcoat,

knickerbockers, and gaiters of navy-blue serge. In a few days Georgi was

transformed into a respectable-looking servant, with his hair cut.

We left Larnaca on the 29th of January. A native two-wheeled cart

conveyed the tents and superabundant baggage. The oxen made no

difficulty, and the gipsy-van rolled easily along. An enterprising

photographer, having posted himself in a certain position near the

highway, suddenly stopped our party, and subsequently produced a

facsimile, although my dogs, who were in movement, came out with

phantom-like shadows. These useful companions were three spaniels

--"Merry," "Wise," and "Shot;" the latter had a broken foreleg through

an accident in the previous year, but he was an excellent retriever, and

could work slowly. The others were younger dogs, whose characters were

well represented by their names; the first was an untiring, determined

animal, and Wise was a steady hunter that would face the worst thorns,

and was a good retriever.

This party was now in movement, and I intended to make a preliminary

detour from the Nicosia route to visit the springs of Arpera, about

eight miles distant, which supply the town of Larnaca.

In every country where I have travelled I have observed a human weakness

among the population on the question of "game;" there is a universal

tendency to exaggeration; but the locality of superabundance is always

distant from the narrator. As you proceed the game recedes; and you are

informed that "at about two days' march you will find even more than you

require." Upon arrival at the wished-for spot you are told that

"formerly there was a large quantity, but that times and seasons have

changed; that about three marches in your front will bring you to a

hunter's paradise," &c. As Cyprus was an island of only 140 miles in

length, there would be a limit to these boundless descriptions; but I

had already heard enough to assure me that the usual want of veracity

upon this subject was present in the accounts I had received. The

newspaper correspondents had just contributed ridiculous reports to

their several employers. Because the market of Larnaca was well supplied

with woodcocks, red-legged partridges, and hares, at low prices, these

overworked gentlemen of the pen rushed to a conclusion that the island

teemed with game: forgetful of the fact that every Cypriote has a gun,

and that numbers were shooting for the consumption of the few. Larnaca

was the common centre towards which all gravitated. As the rate of wages

was only one shilling a day, it may be imagined that sport afforded an

equally remunerative employment, and game was forwarded from all

distances to be hawked about the public thoroughfares. The fact is, that

game is very scarce throughout Cyprus, and the books that have been

written upon this country are certainly not the productions of

sportsmen.

I had read in no mean authority that "the surface of the ground was

covered with heather"--positively there is no such plant in Cyprus as

heath or heather. As we passed the outskirts of Larnaca, we were

introduced to the misery of the plain of Messaria; the so-called heather

is a low thorny bush about twelve inches high, which at a distance has

some resemblance to the plant in question. Brown is the prevailing

colour in this portion of the island, and the aspect was not cheerful as

we slowly marched along the native track or highway towards Arpera,

carefully avoiding the new government macadamised road.

It is a melancholy neighbourhood. A few graves that had been robbed were

open, forming pitfalls for the unwary; other yawning holes had

discovered ancient tombs by the soakage of a recent heavy shower, which

had washed in the roof and exposed the cavity. We passed a small mosque

where there is the tomb of a saint many feet below the level of the

surface, and we shortly came in view of the salt lake about a mile and

three-quarters from the town of Larnaca. We halted about two miles from

the town upon the high ground to admire the aqueduct which crosses the

valley from the village of Cheflik Pacha. This is a very important work.

The masonry is about thirty-six feet above the lowest portion of the

valley, which it spans in thirty-two arches, covering a distance of

about four hundred and twenty yards from height to height. The water

flows in an open canal of cement along the surface, but upon the ground

level it is protected by a covering of stone and lime, until it reaches

the town of Larnaca. A stream of fresh water flows through the valley

beneath the arches of the aqueduct, at a right angle, and is

artificially separated from the salt lake below by means of a dyke of

earth which conducts it direct to the sea. This was rendered necessary

by the floods of the rainy seasons, which carried so large a volume of

fresh water into the lake as to resist the power of evaporation during

the summer months. The salt lakes of Larnaca are several miles in

extent, and are computed by the late British consul, Mr. Watkins, to

possess a productive power of 20,000,000 okes (2 3/4 lbs.) per annum. M.

Gaudry, in his clever work upon Cyprus, attributes the formation of salt

to the fact of the sea-water percolating through the sand, and thus

filling the lake;--this theory is disputed, and I incline to the native

belief, "that the salt lies within the soil, and is taken into solution

by the water, which deposits the same amount upon the dry surface when

exhausted by evaporation." In support of this opinion, I adduce a proof

in the fact of the small freshwater stream which flows from the higher

ground through the arches of the aqueduct, depositing salt as its

surface contracts during the dry season.

A strong efflorescence of true chloride of sodium is left upon the sides

of its bed and upon the bottom as the water becomes exhausted; this must

be the salt which the fresh water has robbed from the soil of the valley

through which it flows. In many portions of Cyprus I have observed, a

few days after a heavy shower, a considerable amount of salt upon the

surface. I know many instances of fresh-water lakes being divided from

the sea by only a few yards of sandy beach, and I do not accept as fact

that salt water percolates through the sand and forms the salt of

Larnaca lake. The salt lakes of Ceylon, in the south district of

Hambantotte, are immensely productive, and they have no communication

with the sea, but are in a similar position to those of Cyprus at

Larnaca and Limasol--near the sea, but depending for their water-supply

upon natural springs and rain. There can be no doubt that the springs

are salt, and the rain-water dissolves the salt that is naturally

contained within the soil. M. Gaudry observed a portion of the plain

near Trichomo covered with an efflorescence of soda, which by analysis

yielded about two-thirds of sulphate of soda, with a large proportion of

sulphate of magnesia and other salts. Many wells in Cyprus are salt, or

brackish. The lowest ground of the marshy plain near Famagousta contains

salt to a degree sufficient to destroy the young cereals, should rain

not be abundant; and during the drought of this year (1879), they were

the first to perish, although in a damp locality.

Salt is a government monopoly in Cyprus, and is one of the most

important sources of revenue. In the reign of the Lusignan dynasty, and

from a much earlier date, the produce of the salt lakes formed one of

the chief articles of export, and arrangements were made for regulating

the amount of water to ensure the requisite evaporation. At the present

time considerable uncertainty attends the collection of salt, as a

violent rainfall floods the lakes and weakens the solution. There can be

no doubt that a few years' experience and attention will enable the

authorities to improve upon the present arrangement, and that not only

will the annual supply be assured, but the foreign demand will be

extended.

We passed the valley beyond the aqueduct and, ascending the steep

incline upon the opposite side, followed the rutty native track parallel

with the water-course; we halted for the first night opposite the

village of Cheflik Pacha. This is an unhealthy place, as it lies in a

valley where a mill is turned by a stream from the aqueduct and the

surplus water forms a marsh after irrigating in a careless manner some

fields and gardens. Lemon and orange-trees of the largest size were

crowded with fruit, and exhibited in the midst of a treeless and

desolate country the great necessity, WATER, and the productive powers

of the soil when regularly supplied.

I was careful not to descend into the irrigated bottom, therefore we had

halted on the highest point, a quarter of a mile distant. It is

impossible to be too careful in the selection of a camping-ground; the

effect of fever-germs may be the result of one night's bivouac in an

unhealthy locality; and a new country is frequently stamped as

pestilential from the utter carelessness of the traveller or officer in

command of troops.

As a general rule the immediate neighbourhood of water should be

avoided. A clear stream is a tempting object, and the difficulty of

carrying water for the supply of troops is important; but it is less

than the necessity of carrying the sick. If once the fever of malaria

attacks an individual he becomes unfitted for his work; the blood is

poisoned, and he is the victim of renewed attacks which baffle medical

skill and lead to other serious complications. Avoid the first attack.

This may generally be effected by the careful selection of the

camping-ground. Never halt in a bottom, but always on a height.

Throughout my journey in Cyprus neither ourselves nor servants suffered

from any ailment, although we visited every portion of the country, and

I attribute this immunity from fever mainly to the care in our selection

of halting-places.

The first necessity in the evening halt was fire. This is one of the

troubles of central Cyprus--there is no fuel. The two vans and the

native cart were in a line--the bell-tent was quickly pitched for the

servants, who now for the first time experienced the comfort of an

arrangement I had made when in England. I had seven deal battens, each

seven feet long, four inches deep, by two and a half inches broad. These

were laid upon the ground twelve inches apart; seven planks, each one

foot wide, were placed across the battens to form an impromptu floor.

Upon this platform was laid a non-conductor of simply doubled hair-felt,

sewed into a thin mattress of light canvas. There was very little

trouble in this arrangement; the men were kept well off the ground, and

the hair-felt not only preserved their bodily heat from escaping, but it

prevented the damp of the earth from ascending. This mattress was ten

feet long, therefore it could be rolled up to form a bolster at one end;

and, during a hot sun, it was intended for a cover to the roof of the

gipsy van.

The first day's start is always in the afternoon, and the march is

short. We had only made three miles, and it was nearly dark when we

halted. The absence of fuel necessitates the great trouble of carrying a

supply of charcoal, and it destroys the pleasure of the cheerful

night-fires that usually enliven the bivouac in wild countries. The

plants and herbs that grow in Cyprus are all prickly; thus groping in

the dark for the first inflammable material to produce the

fire-foundation is unpleasant. There is a highly aromatic but very

prickly species of wild thyme: this is always sought for, and at all

times responds to the match.

The first night is always novel, in spite of old experiences. We pricked

our hands in raking up thorny plants, but a useful implement, which

combined the broad hoe on one side with a light pick on the other,

lessened our labour, and we produced a blaze; this was bright but

transient, as the fuel was unsubstantial. The dinner was quickly warmed,

as it consisted of tins of preserved meats; and, climbing up the ladder,

the gipsy van presented such a picture of luxury that if the world were

girded by a good road instead of a useless equator I should like to be

perpetually circum-vanning it.

On the following morning the thermometer marked 40 degrees. The natives

were early at work, ploughing land that was to remain fallow until the

following season. The oxen were sleek and in good condition, and not

inferior in weight to the well-known red animals of North Devon.

Although the native plough is of the unchanged and primitive pattern

that is illustrated on the walls of Egyptian temples, it is well adapted

for the work required in the rough and stony ground of Cyprus. I was

surprised to see the depth which these exceedingly light implements

attained, with apparent ease to the pair of oxen; this was not less than

eight inches, and the furrows were regular, but not turned completely

over. The ploughshare is not adapted for cutting the roots of weeds by

means of a flat surface and a sharp edge, but the rounded top of the

native iron passes beneath the soil and breaks it up like the wave

produced by the ram-bow of a vessel. The plough, when complete, does not

exceed forty pounds in weight, and it is conveniently carried, together

with the labourer, upon the same donkey, when travelling from a distance

to the morning's work. European settlers in Cyprus should be cautious

before superseding the native plough by the massive European pattern;

there are certain soils where the powerful iron plough, or even the

double implement, might be worked with advantage, but as a general rule

I should advise an agriculturist to wait patiently at the commencement

of his operations, and to gain practical experience of the country

before he expends capital in the purchase of European inventions. There

can be no doubt that by degrees important improvements may be introduced

that will benefit the Cypriote farmer, although it will be long before

his primitive method will be abandoned. The great difficulty in Cyprus

consists in reducing the soil to a fine surface; huge lumps of tenacious

earth are turned up by the plough, which, under the baking influence of

the sun, become as hard as sun-dried bricks. The native method of

crushing is exceedingly rude and ineffective. A heavy plank about

sixteen feet long and three inches thick, furnished with two rings, is

dragged by oxen over the surface; which generally remains in so rough a

state that walking over the field is most laborious. There are many

stone columns lying useless among the heaps of ruins so common in

Cyprus, that would form excellent rollers, but the idea of such an

implement has never entered the Cypriote head. The plough,

smoothing-plank, and the ancient threshing-harrow, composed of two broad

planks inlaid with sharp flint stones, are the only farm machinery of

the cultivator. As in the days of Abraham the oxen drew this same

pattern of harrow over the corn, and reduced the straw to a coarse chaff

mingled with the grain, so also the treatment in Cyprus remains to the

present day. The result is a mixture of dirt and sand which is only

partially rejected by the equally primitive method of winnowing.

Mr. Hamilton Lang gives an amusing description of the strictly

conservative principles of the Cyprian oxen, which have always been fed

upon the straw broken by the process described in threshing by the

harrow of sharp flints. This coarse chaff, mixed with cotton-seed,

lentils, or barley, is eaten by all animals with avidity, and the

bullocks positively refused Mr. Lang's new food, which was the same

straw passed through an English threshing-machine and cut fine by a

modern chaff-cutter. This fact is a warning to those who would introduce

too sudden reforms among men and animals in a newly-acquired country;

but if Mr. Hamilton Lang had sprinkled salt over his chaff I think the

refractory appetites of the oxen might have been overcome. A pair of

oxen are supposed to plough one "donum" daily of fifty paces square, or

about half an acre.

Having watched the various teams, and conversed with the ploughmen by

the medium of the cook Christo, who spoke English and was an intelligent

interpreter, I ordered the vans to move on while I walked over the

country with the dogs. There was no game except a wild-duck which I shot

in the thick weeds of a neighbouring swamp. Larks were in great

quantities, and for want of larger birds I shot enough for a pilaff, and

secured a breakfast. The route, which could be hardly called a road, had

been worn by the wheels of native carts. These were narrower than our

vans, and one of our wheels was generally upon a higher level,

threatening on some occasions to overturn. The country around us was

desolate in its aridity. We passed through the ruins of an ancient city

over which the plough had triumphed, and literally not one stone was

left upon another. A few stone columns of a rough description, some of

which were broken, were lying in various directions, and I noticed a

lower millstone formed of an exceedingly hard conglomerate rock; these

pieces were too heavy to move without great exertions, therefore they

had remained in situ.

After a short march of three miles we arrived at the steep banks of the

river a mile above the village of Arpera. The bed of this river was

about forty feet below the level of the country, and here our first real

difficulty commenced in descending a rugged and precipitous track, which

at first sight appeared destructive to any springs. The gipsy-van was

conducted by the owner of the fine pair of bullocks; but this fellow

(Theodoris) was an obstinate and utterly reckless character, and instead

of obeying orders to go steadily with the drag on the wheels, he put his

animals into a gallop down the steep descent, with the intention of

gaining sufficient momentum to cross the sandy bottom and to ascend the

other side. If the original gipsy proprietor could have seen his van

leaping and tossing like a ship in a heavy sea, with the frantic driver

shouting and yelling at his bullocks while he accelerated their gallop

by a sharp application of the needle-pointed driving prick, he would

have considered it the last moment of his movable home. I did the same;

but, to my astonishment, the vehicle, after bounding madly about, simply

turned the insane driver head over heels into the river's bed, and the

bullocks found themselves anchored in the sand on the opposite side.

Glover Brothers' blue van was driven by a fine fellow, Georgi, who was

of a steady disposition; and this very handy and well constructed

carriage made nothing of the difficulty. Georgi was a handsome and

exceedingly powerful man, upwards of six feet high, of a most amiable

disposition, who always tried to do his best; but the truth must be

told, he was stupid: he became a slave to the superior intellect of the

hare-brained rascal of the gipsy-van. Why amiable people should so

frequently be stupid I cannot conceive: perhaps a few are sharp; but

Georgi, poor fellow, had all in bone and muscle, and not in brain.

There is great advantage in travelling with more than one vehicle, as in

any difficulty the numerous animals can be harnessed together and their

combined power will drag a single cart or carriage through any obstacle.

Thus one by one the vans were tugged up the steep bank on the opposite

side, and after a drag across ploughed fields for nearly a mile we

halted on the edge of a cliff and camped exactly above the river.

Although the bed was dry below this point, we found a faint stream of

clear water above our position, which was subsequently absorbed by the

sand. The cliffs were not perpendicular, but were broken into steep

declivities from successive landslips: the sides were covered with the

usual prickly plants, but the edges of the stream were thickly bushed

with oleanders which afforded excellent covert for game.

In travelling through Cyprus there is a depressing aspect in the general

decay and ruin of former works. I strolled with my dogs for some miles

along the river banks, and examined the strong masonry remains of many

old water-mills. I found a well-constructed aqueduct of wonderfully hard

cement at the bottom of a cliff close to the present bed of the river:

this must at a former period have passed below the bed, and the

deepening of the stream has exposed and washed away the ancient work.

There was no game beyond a few wild red-legged partridges, although the

appearance of the country had raised my expectations.

On the following morning I rambled with the dogs for many hours over the

range of hills which bounds the plain upon the north, and from which the

river issues. These are completely denuded of soil, and present a

glaring surface of hardened chalk, in the crevices of which the usual

prickly plants can alone exist. Some of the hill-tops exposed a smooth

natural pavement where the rain had washed away all soluble portions and

left the bare foundation cracked in small divisions as though

artificially inlaid. Now and then a wretched specimen of the Pinus

Maritima, about six feet high, was to be seen vainly endeavouring to

find nourishment in the clefts of the barren rocks. I do not believe the

tales of forests having formerly existed upon the greater portion of

Cyprus: it would certainly be impossible for any species of tree to

thrive upon the extensive range of hills near Arpera, which are

absolutely valueless.

In many places the surface glistened with ice-like sheets of gypsum,

which cropped out of the cold white marls and produced a wintry

appearance that increased the desolation. I walked for some hours over

successive ranges of the same hopeless character. Great numbers of hawks

and several varieties of eagles were hunting above the hill-tops, and

sufficiently explained the scarcity of game. The red-legged partridges

found little protection in the scant cover afforded by the withered

plants, and I saw one captured and carried off by an eagle, who was

immediately chased by two others of the same species, in the vain hope

that he would give up his prize; he soared high in air with the

partridge hanging from his claws. On the same day I saw another capture,

and there can be little doubt that the partridge forms the usual food of

these large birds of prey. The British government has already protected

the game by establishing a close season and by a tax upon all guns; but

there will be little benefit from the new law unless a reward shall be

offered for the destruction of the birds of prey which swarm in every

portion of the island--eagles, falcons, kites, hawks, ravens, crows, and

last, but in cunning and destructive propensity not the least, the

"magpies." These birds exist in such numbers that unless steps are taken

to destroy them it will be hopeless to expect any increase of game. When

a magpie wakes in the early morning his first thought is mischief, and

during the breeding season there is no bird who makes egg-hunting so

especially his occupation. Upon the treeless plains of Cyprus every nest

is at his mercy.

From the base of the barren hill-range a fertile plain slopes towards

the sea for a width of about four miles, having received the soil that

has been washed from the denuded heights. This rich surface is

cultivated with cereals, but there are considerable portions which are

covered with a dense mass of thistles, as the land is allowed to rest

for a couple of years after having been exhausted by several crops

without manuring. On the lowlands of Cyprus nearly every plant or bush

is armed with thorns. I have generally observed that a thorny vegetation

is a proof of a burning climate with a slight rainfall. In the scorching

districts of the Soudan there is hardly a tree without thorns to the

tenth degree of north latitude, at which limit the rainfall is great and

the vegetation changes its character. The Cypriotes of both sexes wear

high boots to the knees as a protection from the countless thistles, and

not as an armour against snakes, as some writers have assumed. These

boots are peculiar in their construction; the soles are about an inch in

thickness, formed of several layers of leather, which are fastened

together by large-headed nails from beneath; these are directed in an

oblique line, so as to pass through the edge of the upper leather and

secure it to the sole exactly as the shoe of a horse is fitted to the

hoof. The nails are long and thin, and are riveted by turning the points

round and hammering them like a coil upon the leather; the heads of

these nails are nearly as large as a shilling, and the boots are

exceedingly clumsy; but they increase the height of the wearer by a full

inch.

My amiable driver of the blue van, Georgi, accompanied me in my walk,

and fired several useless shots at wild partridges. We now arrived at

the spot where the water is led by a subterranean aqueduct to Larnaca.

This principle is so original, and has from such remote times been

adopted in this arid island, that it merits a detailed description. The

ancient vestiges of similar works in every portion of Cyprus prove that

in all ages the rainfall must have been uncertain, and that no important

change has taken place in the meteorological condition of the country.

In a search for water-springs the Cypriote is most intelligent, and the

talent appears to be hereditary. If a well is successful at an elevation

that will enable the water to command lower levels at a distance, it may

be easily understood that the supply of one well representing a unit

must be limited. The Cypriote well-sinker works upon a principle of

simple multiplication. If one well produces a certain flow, ten wells

will multiply the volume, if connected by a subterranean tunnel, and

provided the supply of water in the spring is unlimited.

It appears that Cyprus exhibits an anomaly in the peculiarity of a small

rainfall but great subterranean water-power; some stratum that is

impervious retains the water at depths varying according to local

conditions. The well-sinker commences by boring, or rather digging, a

circular hole two feet six inches in diameter. The soil of Cyprus is so

tenacious that the walls of the shaft require no artificial support;

this much facilitates the work, and the labourer, armed with a very

short-handled pick, patiently hacks his vertical way, and sends up the

earth by means of a basket and rope, drawn by a primitive but effective

windlass above, formed of a cradle of horizontal wooden bars. The man in

charge simply turns the windlass without a handle, by clutching each

successive bar, which, acting as a revolving lever, winds up the rope

with the weight attached.

The rapidity of the well-sinking naturally depends upon the quality of

the soil; if rock is to be cut through, it is worked with a mason's axe

and the cold chisel. Fortunately the geological formation is principally

sedimentary limestone, which offers no great resistance. At length the

water is reached. The well is now left open for a few days that an

opinion may be formed of the power; if favourable, another precisely

similar well is sunk at a distance of fifteen or sixteen yards in the

direction towards the point required by the future aqueduct. The spring

being satisfactory, the work proceeds with vigour. We will accept the

first well as forty feet in depth; if the surface of the earth were an

exact level, the next well would be an equal depth; but as the water

retains its natural level, the vertical measurement of each shaft will

depend upon the formation of the upper ground. The object of the

well-sinker is to create a chain of wells united by a subterranean

tunnel, in order to multiply the power of a unit and to obtain the

entire supply of water; he therefore sinks perhaps ten or twenty wells

to the same level, and he cuts a narrow tunnel from one to the other,

thus connecting his shafts at the water-line, so as to form a canal or

aqueduct. Precisely as the mole upheaves at certain intervals the earth

that it has scraped from its gallery, the well-sinker clears his tunnel

by sending up the contents through the vertical shafts fifteen yards

apart, around the mouth of which a funnel-shaped mound is formed by the

debris.

These preliminary walls being completed and the water-volume tested, the

neighbourhood is examined with the hope of discovering other springs

that may upon the same principle be conducted towards the main line of

the proposed aqueduct. It is not uncommon to find several chains of

wells converging from different localities to the desired water-head,

and as these are at higher levels, a considerable hydraulic power is

obtained, sufficient in many instances not only to fill the tunnels, but

to force the water to a greater elevation if required.

The water-head being thoroughly established, the sinking of a chain of

wells proceeds, and the tunnels are arranged at a given inclination to

conduct the water to the destined spot. This may be many miles distant,

necessitating many hundred wells, which may comprise great superficial

changes; hills that are bored through necessitate deep shafts, and

valleys must be spanned by aqueducts of masonry. In this manner the

water is conducted from the springs of Arpera near the spot where the

river issues from the narrow valley among the hills, and supplies

Larnaca, about eight miles distant from the first head. The British

authorities propose to substitute iron pipes for the present aqueduct;

but it is to be hoped that the new scheme will be an independent and

additional work, that will in no way interfere with the important gift

of Cheflik Pacha, which has existed for nearly two centuries, and which,

if kept in repair, will supply the necessary volume.

Cyprus, as I Saw It in 1879 · 第 2 / 20 章