CHAPTER NINE.
IN WHICH LANCEY IS TRIED, SUSPECTED, BLOWN UP, CAPTURED, HALF-HANGED,DELIVERED, AND ASTONISHED.
We must turn now to poor Lancey, from whom I parted in the waters of theDanube, but with whose fate and doings I did not become acquainted untillong afterwards.
As I had anticipated, he missed the vessel of the Turkish flotillatowards which he had struck out, but fortunately succeeded in grapplingthe chain cable of that which lay next to it, and the crew of which, asthe reader will recollect, I had roused by a shout in passing.
Lancey soon let the Turks know where he was. A boat being lowered, hewas taken on board, but it was clear to him that he was regarded withmuch suspicion. They hurried him before the officer in charge of thedeck, who questioned him closely. The poor fellow now found that hisknowledge of the Turkish language was much slighter than, in the prideof his heart, while studying with me, he had imagined. Not only did hefail to understand what was said to him, but the dropping of h's and theintroduction of r's in wrong places rendered his own efforts at replyabortive. In these circumstances one of the sailors who professed totalk English was sent for.
This man, a fine stalwart Turk, with a bushy black beard, began hisduties as interpreter with the question--
"Hoosyoo?"
"Eh? say that again," said Lancey, with a perplexed look.
"Hoosyoo?" repeated the Moslem, with emphasis.
"Hoosyoo," repeated Lancey slowly. "Oh, I see," (with a smile of suddenintelligence,) "who's you? Just so. I'm Jacob Lancey, groom in thefamily of Mrs Jeff Childers, of Fagend, in the county of Devonshire,England."
This having been outrageously misunderstood by the Turk, andmisinterpreted to the officer, the next question was--
"Wessyoocumfro?"
"Wessyoocumfro?"
Again Lancey repeated the word, and once more, with a smile of suddenintelligence, exclaimed, "Ah, I see: w'ere's you come from? Well, Ilast come from the water, 'avin' previously got into it through thehupsettin' of our boat."
Lancey hereupon detailed the incident which had left him and mestruggling in the water, but the little that was understood by the Turkswas evidently not believed; and no wonder, for by that time the Russianshad been laying down torpedoes in all directions about the Danube, toprevent the enemy from interfering with their labours at the pontoonbridges. The Turkish sailors were thus rendered suspicious of everyunusual circumstance that came under their notice. When, therefore, abig, powerful, and rather odd-looking man was found clinging to one oftheir cables, they at once set him down as an unsuccessful torpedoist,and a careful search was instantly made round the vessel as aprecaution.
Meanwhile Lancey was led rather roughly down to the cabin to bequestioned by the captain.
The cabin, although very luxurious in its fittings, was not so richlyornate as had been anticipated by the English groom, whose conceptionsof everything had been derived from the Arabian Nights' Entertainments,or rather from a fanciful imagination fed by that romantic work. Theappearance of the Turkish captain, however, and the brightly-colouredcostume of an officer who sat by his side, were sufficiently strikingand Oriental.
On Lancey being placed before him, the captain turned and said a fewwords to the officer at his side, who was a splendid fellow, in theprime of life, with a square bony frame and red beard, which harmonised,if it did not contrast, with his scarlet fez and blue tassel. A richEastern shawl encircled his waist, from the folds of which peeped thehandles of a brace of pistols.
He looked at the dripping Englishman earnestly and sternly for a fewmoments, and the slightest tinge of a smile lighted his gravecountenance as he said in broken, but sufficiently fluent English--
"The captin do want you to repeat vat you have say on deck."
Lancey repeated it, with a considerable number of additions, but novariations.
After translating it all, and listening to something in reply, theofficer turned again to Lancey.
"The captin," he said, with quiet gravity, "bids me tell to you that youis a liar."
Lancey flushed deeply. "I would tell _you_," he said, with a frown, "totell the captain that 'e's another, on'y that would show I was asbad-mannered as 'imself."
"If I do tells him zat," returned the officer, "you should have yourhead cutted off immediately."
Lancey's indignation having already half-cooled, and his memory beingrefreshed just then with some vivid remembrances of the Eastern mode ofsummoning black slaves by the clapping of hands, followed by the flyingoff of heads or the prompt application of bowstrings to necks, he said,still however with an offended air--
"Well then, tell 'im what you like, hall I've got to say is that I'vetold the plain truth, an' 'e's welcome to believe it or not as 'elikes."
Without the slightest change in his grave countenance, or his appearingin the least degree offended by Lancey's free-and-easy manner, thered-bearded officer again turned to address the captain. Lancey nowobserved that the latter replied with a degree of deferential respectwhich seemed unnatural in mere brother officers.
"You is regarded as a spy," said the red-beard, turning once more toLancey, and fixing his cold grey eye intently on him, as if to read histhoughts.
"No, I ain't a spy," returned the unfortunate man, somewhat bitterly,"nor never mean to be. 'Ang me if you like. I've nothink more to say."
Neither the captain nor the red-bearded officer replied, but the formerwaved his hand, and the two sailors who had led Lancey to the cabinagain seized him and led him away, more roughly than before. The freespirit of my poor servant resented this unnecessary rudeness, and hefelt a strong inclination to fight, but discretion, or some faintremembrance of scimitars and bowstrings, induced him to submit.
Full well did he know what was the fatal doom of a spy, and a sinking ofthe heart came over him as he thought of immediate execution. At thevery least, he counted on being heavily ironed and thrust into thedarkest recesses of the hold. Great, then, was his surprise when theman who had at first acted as interpreter took him below and suppliedhim with a dry shirt and a pair of trousers.
Thankfully accepting these, and standing between two guns, he put themon.
"Who is the hofficer with the red beard?" he asked, while thus engaged.
The interpreter seemed unwilling to answer at first, but, on arepetition of the question replied--
"Pasha."
"Pasha, eh? Ah, that accounts for the respect of the cap'n--rathershorter in the legs these 'ere than I could 'ave wished; 'owever,beggars, they say, mustn't be--well, they're wide enough anyhow.--APasha, is 'e? Don't look like a sailor, though. Is 'e a sailor?"
"No," replied the interpreter sharply.
"Well, well, no offence meant," said Lancey, buttoning his shirt. "Ifyou don't feel commoonicative _I_ won't trouble you, no more than tothank 'ee for the shirt an' trousers, which the latter bein' dry is ablessin', though they air a trifle short in the legs an' wide in the'ips."
After this Lancey was supplied with food.
While he was eating it he was startled by sudden rushing and shouting,which was immediately followed by the discharge of musketry on deck. Hesprang up, and seeing that the Turkish sailors were grasping their armsand swarming up the hatchways, he mingled with one of the streams. Noone paid any attention to him. At that moment he felt a shock which heafterwards described as resembling an earthquake or the blowing up of apowder-magazine. Part of the planking near to where he stood wasshattered. Some of the guns appeared almost to leap for an instant afew inches into the air. Gaining the deck he ascertained that an attackof Russian torpedo-boats was going on. It was, in fact, the attackwhich I have already described, the monitor by which Lancey was rescuedbeing that which had been selected by the Russian commander as hisvictim.
When the second torpedo exploded, as already described, Lancey wasstanding near the gangway, and saw that the men were lowering the boatsin urgent haste, for the vessel was evidently sinking.
"Yoo
s know 'bout dat," said a stern voice near him. At the same momenthe was seized by the interpreter and another man, who made an effort tohurl him into the sea. But Lancey was strong, and tenacious of life.Before a third sailor, who was about to aid his comrades, could act, thered bearded officer appeared with the captain and was about to descendinto the boat when he observed Lancey struggling in the grasp of thesailors.
"Spy!" he exclaimed in the Turkish tongue, "you must not escape. Getinto the boat."
The sailors fell back. Lancey, not sure whether to regard this astemporary deliverance or his death-warrant, hesitated, but at a signfrom the Pasha he was collared by five or six men and hurled into thebottom of the boat, where he lay, half-stunned, while they rowed towardsthe shore. Before reaching it, however, he was still doomed to roughhandling, for one of the shots from the large guns, which were firedalmost at random from the flotilla, accidentally struck the boat andsent it to the bottom.
Lancey was a good swimmer. The cold water restored him to full vigour,and he struck out boldly for the shore. He soon left the boat's crewbehind, with the exception of one man who kept close to his side all theway. As they neared the shore, however, this man suddenly cried outlike one who is drowning. A second time he cried, and the gurgling ofhis voice told its own tale. The stout Englishman could not bear toleave a human being to perish, whether friend or foe. He swam towardsthe drowning man and supported him till their feet touched bottom.
Then, perceiving that he was able to stagger along unassisted, Lanceypushed hurriedly from his side in the hope of escaping from any of thecrew who might reach land, for they were evidently the reverse offriendly.
He landed among a mass of bulrushes. Staggering through them, andnearly sinking at every step, he gradually gained firmer footing.
"Ah, Jacob," he muttered to himself, pausing for a few minutes' rest,"little did you think you'd git into such an 'orrible mess as this w'enyou left 'ome. Sarves you right for quittin' your native land."
With this comforting reflection he pushed on again, and soon foundhimself on a road which led towards a town, or village, whose lightswere distinctly visible.
What should he do? The village was on the Bulgarian side, and thenatives, if not enemies, would of course become so on learning from anyof the saved men of the monitor who he was. To swim across the Danubehe felt was, after his recent exertions, impossible. To remain where hewas would be to court death among the frogs.
Lancey was a prompt man. Right or wrong, his conclusions were soon cometo and acted on. He decided to go straight to the village and throwhimself on the hospitality of the people. In half an hour he foundhimself once more a prisoner! Worse than that; the interpreter, who wasamong the men saved from the wreck, chanced to discover him anddenounced him as a spy. The mood in which the Turks then were was notfavourable to him. He was promptly locked up, and about daybreak nextmorning was led out to execution.
Poor Lancey could scarcely credit his senses. He had often read of suchthings, but had never fully realised that they were true. That he, aninnocent man, should be hung off-hand, without trial by jury orotherwise, in the middle of the nineteenth century, was incredible!There was something terribly real, however, in the galling tightness ofthe rope that confined his arms, in the troop of stern horsemen thatrode on each side of him, and in the cart with ropes, and the materialfor a scaffold, which was driven in front towards the square of thetown. There was no sign of pity in the people or of mercy in theguards.
The contrivance for effecting the deadly operation was simple in theextreme,--two large triangles with a pole resting on them, and a strongrope attached thereto. There was no "drop." An empty box sufficed, andthis was to be kicked away when the rope was round his neck.
Even up to the point of putting the rope on, Lancey would not believe.
Reader, have you ever been led out to be hanged? If not, be thankful!The conditions of mind consequent on that state of things is appalling.It is also various.
Men take it differently, according to their particular natures; and asthe nature of man is remarkably complex, so the variation in his feelingis exceedingly diverse.
There are some who, in such circumstances, give way to abject terror.Others, whose nervous system is not so finely strung and whose sense ofjustice is strong, are filled with a rush of indignation, and meet theirfate with savage ferocity, or with dogged and apparent indifference.Some, rising above sublunary matters, shut their eyes to all around andfix their thoughts on that world with which they may be said to be moreimmediately connected, namely, the next.
Lancey went through several of these phases. When the truth firstreally came home to him he quailed like an arrant coward. Then a senseof violated justice supervened. If at that moment Samson's powers hadbeen his, he would have snapped the ropes that bound him likepackthread, and would have cut the throat of every man around him. Whenhe was placed upon the substitute for a "block," and felt by a motion ofhis elbows his utter powerlessness, the dogged and indifferent statecame on, but it did not last. It could not. His Christian training wasadverse to it.
"Come," he mentally exclaimed, "it is God's will. Quit you like a man,Jacob--and die!"
There is no doubt that in this frame the brave fellow would have passedaway if he had not been roused by the loud clattering of horses' feet asa cavalcade of glittering Turkish officers dashed through the square.In front of these he observed the red-bearded officer who had acted asinterpreter in the cabin of the Turkish monitor.
There came a sudden gush of hope! Lancey knew not his name, but in avoice of thunder he shouted--
"'Elp! 'elp! 'allo! Pasha! Redbeard!--"
The executioner hastened his work, and stopped the outcry by tighteningthe rope.
But "Redbeard" had heard the cry. He galloped towards the place ofexecution, recognised the supposed spy, and ordered him to be released,at the same time himself cutting the rope with a sweep of his sword.
The choking sensation which Lancey had begun to feel was instantlyrelieved. The rope was removed from his neck, and he was gently ledfrom the spot by a soldier of the Pasha's escort, while the Pashahimself galloped coolly away with his staff.
If Lancey was surprised at the sudden and unexpected nature of hisdeliverance, he was still more astonished at the treatment which hethereafter experienced from the Turks. He was taken to one of the besthotels in the town, shown into a handsome suite of apartments, andotherwise treated with marked respect, while the best of viands and thechoicest of wines were placed before him.
This made him very uncomfortable. He felt sure that some mistake hadoccurred, and would willingly have retired, if possible, to the hotelkitchen or pantry; but the waiter, to whom he modestly suggestedsomething of the sort, did not understand a word of English and couldmake nothing of Lancey's Turkish. He merely shook his head and smiledrespectfully, or volunteered some other article of food. The worthygroom therefore made up his mind to hold his tongue and enjoy himself aslong as it lasted.
"When I wakes up out o' this remarkable and not unpleasant dream," hemuttered, between the whiffs of his cigarette, one evening after dinner,"I'll write it out fair, an' 'ave it putt in the _Daily Noos_ or the_Times_."
But the dream lasted so long that Lancey began at last to fear he shouldnever awake from it. For a week he remained at that hotel, faringsumptuously, and quite unrestrained as to his movements, though he couldnot fail to observe that he was closely watched and followed wherever hewent.
"Is it a Plenipotentiary or a furrin' Prime Minister they take me for?"he muttered to himself over a mild cigar of the finest quality, "ormayhap they think I'm a Prince in disguise! But then a man in disguiseain't known, and therefore can't be follered, or, if he was, what wouldbe the use of his disguise? No, I can't make it out, no'ow."
Still less, by any effort of his fancy or otherwise, could he make outwhy, after a week's residence at the village in question, he was orderedto prepare for a journey.
; This order, like all others, was conveyed to him by signs. Some partsof his treatment had been managed otherwise. When, for instance, on thenight of his deliverance, it had been thought desirable that hisgarments should be better and more numerous, his attendants or keepershad removed his old wardrobe and left in its place another, which,although it comprehended trousers, savoured more of the East than theWest. Lancey submitted to this, as to everything else, like a truephilosopher. Generally, however, the wishes of those around him wereconveyed by means of signs.
On the morning of his departure, a small valise, stuffed with the fewarticles of comfort which he required, and a change of apparel, wasplaced at his bed-side. The hotel attendant, who had apparentlyundertaken the management of him, packed this up in the morning, havingsomewhat pointedly placed within it his _robe de nuit_. Thereafter theman bowed, smiled gravely, pointed to the door, beckoned him to follow,and left the room.
By that time Lancey had, as it were, given himself up. He acted withthe unquestioning obedience of a child or a lunatic. Following hisguide, he found a native cart outside with his valise in it. Beside thecart stood a good horse, saddled and bridled in the Turkish fashion.His hotel-attendant pointed to the horse and motioned to him to mount.
Then it burst upon Lancey that he was about to quit the spot, perhapsfor ever, and, being a grateful fellow, he could not bear to partwithout making some acknowledgment.
"My dear Turk, or whatever you are," he exclaimed, turning to hisattendant, "I'm sorry to say good-bye, an' I'm still more sorry to saythat I've nothin' to give you. A ten-pun-note, if I 'ad it, would bebut a small testimony of my feelin's, but I do assure you I 'av'n't gota rap."
In corroboration of this he slapped his empty pockets and shook hishead. Then, breaking into a benignant smile, he shook hands with thewaiter warmly, turned in silence, mounted his horse and rode off afterthe native cart, which had already started.
"You don't know where we're goin' to, I s'pose?" said Lancey to thedriver of the cart.
The man stared, but made no reply.
"Ah, I thought not!" said Lancey; then he tried him in Turkish, but ashake of the head intimated the man's stupidity, or his interrogator'sincapacity.
Journeying in silence over a flat marshy country, they arrived aboutmid-day at a small village, before the principal inn of which stood anumber of richly-caparisoned chargers. Here Lancey found that he wasexpected to lunch and join the party, though in what capacity he failedto discover. The grave uncommunicative nature of the Turks hadperplexed and disappointed him so often that he had at last resignedhimself to his fate, and given up asking questions, all the morereadily, perhaps, that his fate at the time chanced to be a pleasantone.
When the party had lunched, and were preparing to take the road, itbecame obvious that he was not regarded as a great man travellingincognito, for no one took notice of him save a Turk who looked morelike a servant than an aristocrat. This man merely touched him on theshoulder and pointed to his horse with an air that savoured more ofcommand than courtesy.
Lancey took the hint and mounted. He also kept modestly in rear. Whenthe cavalcade was ready a distinguished-looking officer issued from theinn, mounted his charger, and at once rode away, followed by the others.He was evidently a man of rank.
For several days they journeyed, and during this period Lancey madeseveral attempts at conversation with the only man who appeared to beaware of his existence--who, indeed, was evidently his guardian. But,like the rest, this man was taciturn, and all the information that couldbe drawn out of him was that they were going to Constantinople.
I hasten over the rest of the journey. On reaching the sea, they wenton board a small steamer which appeared to have been awaiting them. Incourse of time they came in sight of the domes and minarets of Stamboul,the great city of the Sultans, the very heart of Europe's apple ofdiscord.
It was evening, and the lights of the city were everywhere glitteringlike long lines of quivering gold down into the waters of the Bosporus.Here the party with which Lancey had travelled left him, without evensaying good-bye,--all except his guardian, who, on landing, made signsthat he was to follow, or, rather, to walk beside him. Reduced by thistime to a thoroughly obedient slave, and satisfied that no mischief waslikely to be intended by men who had treated him so well, Lancey walkedthrough the crowded streets and bazaars of Constantinople as one in adream, much more than half-convinced that he had got somehow into an"Arabian Night," the "entertainments" of which seemed much more realthan those by which his imagination had been charmed in days of old.
Coming into a part of the city that appeared to be suburban, his keeperstopped before a building that seemed a cross between a barrack and abird-cage. It was almost surrounded by a wall so high that it hid thebuilding from view, except directly in front. There it could be seen,with its small hermetically-closed windows, each covered with a woodentrellis. It bore the aspect of a somewhat forbidding prison.
"Konak--palace," said the keeper, breaking silence for the first time.
"A konak; a palace! eh?" repeated Lancey, in surprise; "more like ajail, _I_ should say. 'Owever, customs differ. Oos palace may it be,now?"
"Pasha; Sanda Pasha," replied the man, touching a spring or bell in thewall; "you goes in."
As he spoke, a small door was opened by an armed black slave, to whom hewhispered a few words, and then, stepping back, motioned to hiscompanion to enter.
"Arter you, sir," said Lancey, with a polite bow.
But as the man continued gravely to point, and the black slave to holdthe door open, he forbore to press the matter, and stepped in. The gatewas shut with a bang, followed by a click of bolts. He found, onlooking round, that the keeper had been shut out, and he was alone withthe armed negro.
"You're in for it now, Jacob my boy," muttered Lancey to himself, as hemeasured the negro with a sharp glance, and slowly turned up thewristband of his shirt with a view to prompt action. But the sableporter, far from meditating an assault, smiled graciously as he led theway to the principal door of the palace, or, as the poor fellow feltsure it must be, the prison.