A RASH ADVENTURE
It was all very well to decide to leave the country; to get safely away
was a different matter. There were two ways out. One of these--the land
route by Constantinople--could not be considered. The other way was to
board one of the American cruisers which, by order of Ambassador
Morgenthau, were empowered to assist citizens of neutral countries to
leave the Ottoman Empire. These cruisers had already done wonderful
rescue work for the Russian Jews in Palestine, who, when war was
declared, were to have been sent to the Mesopotamian town of Urfa--there
to suffer massacre and outrage like the Armenians. This was prevented by
Mr. Morgenthau's strenuous representations, with the result that these
Russian Jews were gathered together as in a great drag-net and herded to
Jaffa, amidst suffering unspeakable. There they were met by the American
cruisers which were to transport them to Egypt. Up to the very moment
when they set foot on the friendly warships they were robbed and
horribly abused by the Jaffa boatmen. The eternal curse of the
Wandering Jew! Driven from Russia, they come to seek shelter in Turkey;
Turkey then casts them from her under pretext that they are loyal to
Russia. Truly, the Jew lifts his eyes to the mountains, asking the
ancient and still unanswered question, "Whence shall come my help?"
The Turkish Government later repented of its leniency in allowing these
Russian Jews to escape, and gave orders that only neutrals should leave
the country--and then only under certain conditions. I was not a
neutral; my first papers of American citizenship were valueless to
further my escape. I had heard, however, that the United States cruiser
Tennessee was to call at Jaffa, and I determined to get aboard her by
hook or by crook. One evening, as soon as darkness had fallen, I bade a
sorrowful farewell to my people, and set off for Jaffa, traveling only
by night and taking out-of-the-way paths to avoid the pickets, for now
that the locust campaign was over, my _boyouroulton_ was useless. At
dawn, two days later, I slipped into Jaffa by way of the sand-dunes and
went to the house of a friend whom I could trust to help me in every
possible way, and begged him to find me a passport for a neutral. He set
off in search and I waited all day at his house, consumed with
impatience and anxiety. At last, toward evening, my friend returned,
but the news he brought was not cheering. He had found a passport,
indeed, but his report of the rigors of the inspection at the wharf was
such as to make it clear that the chances of my getting through on a
false passport were exceedingly slim, since I was well known in Jaffa.
If I were caught in such an undertaking, it might mean death for me and
punishment for the friends who had helped me.
Evidently this plan was not feasible. All that night I racked my brain
for a solution. Finally I decided to stake everything on what appeared
to be my only chance. The Tennessee was due on the next day but one,
early in the morning. I gave my friend the name of a boatman who was
under obligations to me and had sworn to be my friend for life or death.
Even under the circumstances I hesitated to trust a Mohammedan, but it
seemed the only thing to do; I had no choice left. My friend brought the
boatman, and I put my plan before him, appealing to his daring and his
sense of honor. I wanted him to take me at midnight in his fishing-boat
from an isolated part of the coast and wait for the appearance of the
Tennessee; then, on her arrival, amid the scramble of boats full of
refugees, I was to jump aboard, while he would return with the other
boats. The poor fellow tried to remonstrate, pointing out the dangers
and what he called--rightly enough, doubtless--the folly of the plan. I
stuck to it, however, making it clear that his part would be well paid
for, and at last he consented and we arranged a meeting-place behind the
sand-dunes by the shore.
I put a few personal belongings into a little suit-case and had my
friend give it to one of the refugees who was to sail on the Tennessee.
If I succeeded, I was to recover it when we reached Egypt. The only
thing I took with me was the paper which declared my "intention of
becoming an American citizen," the "first paper." From this document I
was determined not to part. I shall not tell how I kept it on me, as the
means I used may still be used by others in concealing such papers and a
disclosure of the secret might bring disaster to them. Suffice it to say
that I had the paper with me and that no search would have brought it to
light.
Arrived next morning at the appointed place, I gave the signal agreed
upon, the whine of a jackal, and, after repeating it again and again, I
heard a very low and muffled answer. My boatman was there! I had some
fear that he might have betrayed me and that I should presently see a
soldier or policeman leap out of the little boat, but my fears proved
groundless, the man was faithful.
[ILLUSTRATION: STORMY SEA BREAKING OVER ROCKS OFF JAFFA]
We rowed out quietly, our boat a little nutshell on the tossing waves.
But I was relieved; the elements did not frighten me; on the contrary, I
felt secure and refreshed in the midst of the sea. When morning began to
dawn, scores of little boats came out of the harbor and circled about
waiting for the cruiser. This was our chance. I crouched in the bottom
of our boat and to all appearances my boatman was engaged merely in
fishing. After I had lain there over an hour with my heart beating like
a drum and with small hopes for the success of my undertaking, I heard
at last the whistle of the approaching cruiser followed by a Babel of
mad shouting and cursing among the boatmen. In the confusion I felt it
safe to sit up. No one paid the slightest attention to me. All were
engaged in a wild race to reach and mount the Tennessee's ladder. I
scrambled up with the rest, and when, on the deck, an officer demanded
my passport, I put on a bold front and asked him to tell Captain Decker
that Mr. Aaronsohn wished to see him.
Ten minutes later I stood in the captain's cabin. There I unfolded my
story, and wound up by asking him if, under the circumstances, my "first
papers" might not entitle me to protection. As I spoke I could see the
struggle that was going on within him. When he answered it was to
explain, with the utmost kindness, that if he took me aboard his ship it
would be to forfeit his word of honor to the Turkish Government, his
pledge to take only citizens of neutral countries; that he could not
consider me an American on the strength of my first papers; and that any
such evasion might lead to serious complications for him and for his
Government. Well, there was nothing for me to do but to withdraw and go
back to Jaffa to face trial for an attempt to escape.
When I reached the deck again I found it swarming with refugees, many of
whom knew me and came up to congratulate me on getting away. I could
only shake my head and with death in my heart descend the Tennessee's
ladder. It did not matter now what boat I took. Any boatman was eager
enough to take me for a few cents. As I sat in the boat, every stroke of
the oars bringing me nearer to the shore and to what I felt was
inevitable captivity, a great bitterness swelled my heart. I was tired,
utterly tired of all the dangers and trials I had been going through for
the last months. From depression I sank into despair and out of despair
came, strange to say, a great serenity, the serenity of despair.
On the quay I ran into Hassan Bey, commandant of the police, who was
superintending the embarkation of refugees. I knew him and he knew me.
Half an hour later I was in police headquarters under examination by
Hassan Bey. I was desperate, and answered him recklessly. A seasick man
is indifferent to shipwreck. This was the substance of our
conversation:--
"How did you get aboard the ship?"
"In a boat with some refugees. A woman hid me with her skirts."
"So you were trying to escape, were you?"
"If I had been, I shouldn't have come back."
"Then what did you do on the cruiser?"
"I went to talk to the captain, who is a friend of mine. My life is in
danger. Fewzi Bey is after me, and I wanted _my friends in America_ to
know how justice is done in Palestine."
"Who are your friends in America?"
"Men who could break you in a minute."
"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"Yes, Hassan Bey. I am sick of persecution. I wish you would hang me
with your own hands as you hanged the young Christian; my friends would
have your life for mine."
I wonder now how I dared to speak to him in this manner. But the bluff
carried. Hassan Bey looked at me curiously for a moment--then smiled
and offered me a cigarette, assuring me that he believed me a loyal
citizen, and declaring he felt deeply hurt that I had not come to him
for permission to visit the cruiser. We parted with a profusion of
Eastern compliments, and that evening I started back to Zicron-Jacob.
[ILLUSTRATION: THE AUTHOR'S SISTER ON HER HORSE TAYAR]