RECAPTURED?
No. 2 was now allowed to lead the way. Of this he said he knew every
foot; but we had only just started when the course he took veered
almost to due north. Cochrane, who was next to him, caught hold of his
arm and told him we were not imbeciles, and the man then led us along a
fair line of country bearing between S.S.W. and S. He informed us that
we would come to water on that night's march after four hours, and that
we would then halt. It was decided to leave affairs in his hands: if
his plans were successful, well and good; if not, we would go our own
way.
Not more than two hours later we came to a small stream where the
peaceful shepherds wanted to halt for the night, but we insisted on
proceeding. Finally, we settled down to go to sleep on the side of
a small valley at about 2.30 A.M. on August 13th. Nothing
untoward happened till about 7 A.M. Then suddenly there was
a shout, and shepherd No. 1 could be seen dashing down the hillside
above us. He had been keeping watch, he said, but as events turned
out it is more than likely that he had been signalling while we were
asleep. As daylight appeared the eight of us had moved for better
concealment to the bottom of what was seen to be a horseshoe valley,
and when the shout was heard we were lying there in a small nullah
which was narrow and steep-sided.
On standing up, the first things we saw were two ragged-looking
gendarmes, one of whom was dressed in a long tattered black coat, and
had a black handkerchief tied pirate-wise round his head. Compared to
the black-coated gentleman, the other was almost gaudily dressed in a
very dirty old grey uniform and "Enveri" cap. What was more important
than their dress, however, was the fact that we found ourselves
looking down the muzzles of a rifle and revolver carried ready for
trigger-pressing by Beau Brummell and his seedy-looking friend. These
two gentlemen now came to the kneeling position for greater effect.
The shepherds were greatly agitated; but whether their excitement
was due to fear or the anticipation of more loot we cannot say. They
told us to close up towards the rifle muzzle, which was remarkably
steady and enfiladed the length of the nullah; so we all bunched up.
It is very hard to remember what one thinks about on these occasions:
perhaps the reason is that one does not think of much. One wants
something to happen and the suspense to end; the "Come on! get done
with it quickly" sort of feeling.
Our two old friends now tried to show that they were not really fond
of us. They made threatening gestures, and when Grunt moved to pick up
his hat, shepherd No. 1 hit him a terrific blow on the side of the head
with a thick and heavy stick. Grunt was stunned, and had a bad gash on
the right ear, but he soon came round or there would have been a free
fight.
Fortunately the stick had been very dry and had snapped off at the
force of the blow; otherwise without a doubt Grunt's skull would have
been broken. We put iodine on the wound and bound it up with lint and
bandages, and in a few minutes he was discussing matters with the new
folk.
Beau Brummell said he was a sergeant of gendarmes; his companion had
failed to reach the exalted rank of N.C.O. They now produced rope, and,
to add insult to injury, they produced it out of our own packs. Two of
us were bound together at the elbows, back to back; the rest round the
wrists with their hands behind them.
The sergeant then started talking--we need not say lying. He was going
to take us back to his regiment. He wanted to know where we were going,
and we broadly mentioned the Mediterranean. He thought we were men who
had escaped from some camp on the railway, and it took long to convince
him that we were officers from Yozgad. How had we managed to escape? We
pointed out to him that a Turkish sentry is so overworked that his only
time for sleep is on sentry duty. At this he had enough sense of humour
to smile. He was curious as to the route taken by the others who had
escaped the same night as ourselves: had we told him he would no doubt
have called on them too, so we merely said we had not seen any of them
since we left Yozgad.
Finally the whole point of the story was reached, and he started
talking business. We had felt for some time that the conversation
was veering in that direction, but these delicate situations have to
be very carefully handled; so we left it to him to open the subject.
He led up to his proposition by asking whether we would prefer to be
recaptured or to go to our "memlikat" (home). We need hardly say what
was our reply. He then wished to know what money we possessed, and with
moderate truth we told him. As already mentioned, we had started each
with at least thirty Turkish pounds in paper in addition to some gold;
this, then, with the exception of the sums No. 1 and No. 2 had already
received from us, and a little we had fortunately concealed in odd
places in our clothing, he now took from our pockets.
He seemed quite pleased with his takings, as indeed he should have
been with such a windfall, and was graciously pleased to signify that
he would now let us go. As we were supposed to be penniless, we pointed
out that we had yet many miles to the coast and would need to buy
provisions on the way: unless, therefore, he left us with some money we
should still have to give ourselves up. Upon this he magnanimously gave
us back a bunch of small notes, to the value of about seven Turkish
pounds.
For the same reason he prevented our quondam guides from helping
themselves to the essentials contained in our packs; for by this time
they had opened them and were enviously fingering our spare boots and
clothing. Instead of being allowed to make off with further loot, they
were now ordered to undo our bonds; after this they went away under
the escort of the black-coated gentleman. He being a representative of
Turkish law, could make his own selection of a souvenir of this happy
occasion, and his choice fell on Johnny's fez. This was to prove a
great loss, and on future occasions when fezes were the order of the
day, Johnny had to wear a khaki handkerchief tied round his head.
Beau Brummell himself remained behind for a friendly chat. He advised
us to make as quickly as possible for the Tchitchek Dagh to the south,
lest the peaceful shepherds should again get on to our tracks and hand
us over to further brigands. By this time he was quite frank. If we
did this, he said, he would undertake to look after them for the next
four hours. (No doubt he also took care of any money they still had on
them.)
As we prepared to take his advice he remarked that we were soldiers
and he had been one too, and that we were therefore friends. He then
went off, waving his hand and saying, instead of the usual Turkish
valediction, "Adieu." That brigand had more of the sportsman in him
than any Turk we had previously met.
The moment the brigands were out of sight we moved away over the head
of the valley in the opposite direction, and keeping a little west of
south, marched for an hour, taking it in turns to carry Grunt's pack.
We saw a fairly good hiding-place in a small ravine. It was a question
of halting and taking the risk of being caught again by the brigands,
or moving on and being almost certainly seen by fresh people; so we
decided to stop. The time was half-past ten.
Let us quote from a diary written that day. "It is now 1.30
P.M., and no one has asked for money for four hours, so
things look brighter. The clouds are getting up, which is a godsend,
as our last night's water-bottle will probably have to do us for many
hours more. The position is this: we are bound to go by the southern
route, as we have thrown away a lot of food. We have no guide, thank
goodness. We have already had to bribe four people, and there is not
much bribing power left. We are likely to be very thirsty in the near
future. In fact, in appreciating the situation it cannot in any sense
be called a hopeful one. Nevertheless, we are still free men!"
During the day we made a chargal to replace one which leaked. For this
purpose we had brought along the sleeves of a waterproof coat, the
remainder of which had been left in the cave when we reduced loads.
Boots, too, in some cases, already needed repairs.
Towards evening Grunt's ear was again bathed and dressed. As dusk came
on Cochrane and Nobby went off to look for water near a small grove of
trees a quarter of a mile away. Here they found a patch of cultivation,
and there was probably water in the vicinity; but so many people were
about that the two had to come back without having found any. There was
no choice but to trust to finding water while on the march. We started
at 8.30 P.M., when the moon was up, keeping in the shadow
of the hills which ran along the edge of the valley containing the
cultivated patch. After going a mile we saw some damp green grass, and
a short way farther on we came to a four-feet square pool of an average
depth of an inch. The water gave out a most horrible stench, and must
have been the last summer resort of the cattle and buffaloes of the
neighbourhood. Nevertheless, we were very glad to drink it and fill our
water-bottles, though a second mugful nearly made us sick, and we each
had to eat a few sultanas to take away the taste. That drink is not a
pleasant memory.
Over the rise at the end of the valley we came to good going, and
finally reached a road running in the right direction. Our luck,
however, did not take us very far, as a short distance ahead was a
village where we could hear men talking and dogs barking. To avoid the
village we made a long detour to the east and soon found ourselves in
the middle of numerous steep and rocky ravines. Unable to get back to
the road owing to the nature of the country, we were forced to bear
to the left or east, and spent the whole night going up and down the
features of the mountain that had been pointed out to us that morning
by Beau Brummell.
As already mentioned, this range is called Tchitchek Dagh, or Flower
Mountain, the oak-scrub with which it is covered being in Turkey a
near enough approach to flowers to give it that name. On this night we
made our first acquaintance with sheep-dogs. Shortly after midnight we
heard one barking not far ahead of us, and the tinkle of bells, so we
again sheered off a little. The dog, however, was not going to miss a
really good opportunity of barking, and it came nearer and nearer in
the darkness, making an almost deafening noise. The sheep-dogs are the
only ones in Turkey that are well treated; some of them are magnificent
animals and ugly customers to meet, especially at night. The brute
finally stopped ten yards short of us, and as we moved hastily on he
sped us on our way with a series of roars.
Half an hour later, to counteract our general depression due to the
events of the last few days and to the heart-breaking country we were
traversing, Cochrane found a spring of good water. He had suddenly
turned off to the right, saying he smelt it, and sure enough before we
had gone fifty yards we came on a spring. Here we had a huge drink and
got rid of the putrid water in our water-bottles.
On this march we found that if we drank enormous quantities of
water--in fact, if we forced ourselves to drink more than we wanted--we
could carry on like a camel for a long time without a drink when
the need arose. It may here be said, though a digression, that the
fact about camels going for many days without water only holds good
if they are trained to it. A friend of ours--a colonel in a Gurkha
regiment--had told us that in the attempt to reach Gordon at Khartoum
the camels with the relieving force were marched for a few days along
the Nile and were watered twice daily. They naturally became used to
drinking only a little at a time, and when they were suddenly taken
across the desert it needed but two or three days without water to kill
most of them.
We moved on from the spring in very much better spirits. At 2.30
A.M. we rested for an hour till daylight, for we were now
at the summit of the range, and might only involve ourselves in
unnecessary difficulties if we went on without being able to see the
country. Sleep, however, was impossible. It was exasperating, indeed,
to find that by night it was too cold to sleep, and too hot by day. It
seemed there was some truth in the saying--
"As a rule a man's a fool:
When it's hot he wants it cool;
When it's cool he wants it hot,--
Always wanting what is not."
At daylight we marched on for another two and a half hours. The whole
mountain range was covered with the oak-scrub, which practically hid
us as we walked along the bed of a valley. At 6 A.M. we
turned up a small ravine off the main valley we were in, and hid in
pairs in the scrub. As we climbed to our hiding-places we disturbed
a pair of huge eagle-owls. With these birds we were acquainted at
Yozgad. "Patters," one of the naturalists with whom Johnny went out
that Sunday morning, had kept a tame one. Whilst out hunting he had
found a nest in a precipice, and, with the aid of a rope and two
assistants, had managed to reach it. The nest contained two baby owls,
one of which he brought back to the camp with him. It was at that time
only a week old, and merely the size of a fowl, but in a few weeks it
became a fine upstanding bird, guaranteed to implant terror within the
most resolute breast. At the age of three weeks it would swallow with
consummate skill any dead sparrow that might be thrown to it: nothing
remained to tell the tale except a few straggling feathers attached to
his majesty's beak and a satisfied leer in his eyes. Mice, of course,
were as easy for him to gulp down as sugar-coated pills would be to a
sword-swallower. One day the youngster and a full-grown gander were
placed face to face a few feet apart. Panic-stricken, they eyed each
other for a few breathless seconds, then both turned tail and fled.
But to return to our story. While in hiding in the scrub we did not
dare to move, though it was agony lying at a steep angle, one's hip
on a pointed rock. We hardly spoke a word all day, which was very
creditable; but none of us had any desire to be caught again by
brigands. By reason of the cover it afforded the Flower Mountain was
obviously very suitable for what the Turk calls a "Haidood." From this
word, which means "outlaw," we coined an expressive adjective, and were
wont to talk of a "haidoodish" bit of country. Towards sunset we felt
justified in having been so cautious, for we saw five armed men driving
half a dozen cows over the crest of an opposite ridge, and the haste
with which they were moving made it seem very probable that they were
cattle-lifting.
We left our hiding-place about 7 P.M. and retraced our steps
down the valley to a pool where we had seen a little water in the
morning. On reaching it we found that nothing remained except some
moist earth trampled by cattle, a herd of which must have been there
during our absence. An hour after sunset we were back again at the foot
of the slope where we had hidden all day, and now commenced a long
march. It took us two and a half hours to get clear of the Tchitchek
Dagh. It was very up and down, but fairly smooth going. After this the
country opened up a little, but once again it became very difficult,
with all the valleys running transversely to the southerly course we
were steering. These valleys and two villages, to avoid which we had
to make detours, cut down our speed in a useful direction to about one
mile an hour. During the night we halted in order to get some sleep,
but once more the cold was too great. Even during the five minutes'
halts at the end of each hour we were chilled to the bone, and it was
an effort to get moving again. On these short halts it was a waste of
precious resting-time to remove our packs, though we had done this at
the start. We now used to lie on our backs without taking anything
off, and with our legs up a slight slope, so that the blood could run
away from our feet. At 4 A.M. we resumed our march, meaning
to go on for the first hour of daylight, then to find a hiding-place
and stop there. Unfortunately an hour's marching found us stranded in
unpleasantly open cornland and surrounded by villages and harvesters
working in the fields.
There was no hope of concealment, so we had to carry on. Coming over
a rise, we found ourselves forced to march boldly through a village
which, by the headgear of the women, we took to be Turcoman, though
this part of Asia Minor is rather out of the Turcoman's beat. Along
the road we passed scores of people, mostly women, riding on donkeys.
Having once started, however, the only thing to do was to follow a
track leading as much as possible in the desired direction, and to
pretend to have some business there. Grunt, with his head bandaged,
looked like a wounded soldier, and the rest of us might have looked
soldiers of a sort.
On the far side of the village we marched across a broad valley,
in which were more women working at the crops and some men tending
cattle. After plodding on for four more hours, the last three in broad
daylight, we at length reached a range of bare hills, at the foot of
which we saw a dozen splendid wild geese, but these potential dinners
flew leisurely away at our approach. Painfully climbing half-way up
a rocky and winding ravine, we threw down our packs. We had started
marching over thirteen hours before, and, except for one and a half
hours rest, had been on the move all the time, so we were very weary.
The daily ration had been about twelve ounces of food--not very much,
when one was carrying a heavy load and marching many miles a day over
mountainous country.
Some cocoa was made; and when that was finished we boiled up a mixture
of rice, Oxo cubes, and sultanas, which for lack of water was very
uncooked. On arriving at the ravine we had found a small tortoise; but
while every one was busy making the cocoa, Master Tortoise disappeared,
and though we hunted for him, with a view to adding him to the rice, we
never saw him again.
This day we worked out a new distribution list for the extra biscuits,
rice, and sultanas, which we had made into two packages in the cave
for our two guides to carry for themselves. When our two friends had
threatened not to come with us, these had been taken away from them
and hurriedly distributed amongst the party; even when they afterwards
did accompany us we had providentially kept these supplies in our own
packs. Counting everything, we found that we had nine days' supply of
food, on the basis of about twelve ounces a day each.
As there still remained some 200 miles to go before reaching the coast,
we realised that we should have our work cut out to get through. So far
we had obtained no food from the country, though when we started we had
hoped to do so. By now we were beginning to feel really hungry. For
the first few days of the march the heat had taken away our appetites,
but we were getting acclimatised, and the exhaustion of our reserve of
strength made us feel the full effects of a reduced diet. At intervals
we regretted having left nearly half our food behind in the cave. At
the time we did so, however, it was the wisest course, and had we not
reduced our loads it is certain we should not have been able to make
the same progress.
A mile north of the range of hills in which we were hiding we had
passed a line of telegraph poles, and what we had supposed to be a main
road running east and west. This was in a very bad state of repair, but
was evidently the road which our forty-year-old map informed us was
only six miles from the Kizil Irmak. More than once we discovered that
the map was a mine of misinformation. It is only fair to say, however,
that the river in this part was shown in a dotted line, an admission
that it had not been surveyed.
During the day one or two marmots came out of their holes to inspect
us, standing up like picket pins the while, but without a trap they are
very hard to catch. Looking up between the sides of the ravine, which
were at least 300 feet high, we saw several vultures hovering over our
heads. A few butterflies flitted about near us; and these were the only
signs of life. Nevertheless it was not pleasant waiting there, as we
had to do for nearly ten hours till darkness should come. We knew we
had been seen by many people in the village and in the fields, and any
gendarmes who might have been given news of our whereabouts would have
ample time to catch us up.