CHAPTER IV
A FLYING VISIT
It was Friday morning. Groups of Turkish women, out for the day,hastily veiled their faces and ran away, shrieking, "Aman! Aman! ohdear! oh dear!" Swarms of children, clustering, like ants, aboutnougat-sellers, fled in terror, screaming that it was the devil'scarriage, and the devil was in it. Two Greek teams playing at footballstopped their game and gazed open-mouthed; young naval cadets atleapfrog rushed with shouts of excitement towards the aeroplane; and acrowd of Jewish factory girls (for all races and classes use thiscommon playground), realizing with quick wit what it meant, flocked upwith shrill cries: "C'est un aviateur: allons voir!" A grave old Turkmutters: "Another mad Englishman!" A Greek shouts: "Come on, Pericles,and have a look"; and suddenly, amid the babel of unknown tonguesSmith hears an unmistakable English voice: "Oh, confound it all,Crawford, I'm in the ravine."
Peering through the crowd of inquisitive faces, Smith sees two golfersand hails them heartily. They elbow their way through, and Smith, whohas not yet dared to leave the machine lest the mob should invade itand do it an injury, steps out and grasps the hand of a fellowEnglishman.
"Well, I'm hanged!" cried the new-comer; "Charley Smith, of all men inthe world."
"Hullo, Johnson!" said Smith, recognizing in the speaker a messmate ofhis middy days, now a naval officer in the Sultan's service; "I say,you can do something for me."
"I dare say I can," replied the other laughing, "but where do youspring from? I didn't know you were in these parts."
"Only arrived five minutes ago, from London."
Johnson stared.
"Not in that machine?"
"Yes, certainly. Eight hours' run; a record, isn't it? But I'm shortof petrol. There's some ordered by wire from a man named Benzonana;can you put me in the way of getting it quickly?"
"Of course. Benzonana's a Jew, with stores at Kourshounlou Han. Butthere's no hurry. We'll get some one to look after your aeroplane, andyou'll come back with me to the club: this sort of thing doesn'thappen every day, old man. By Jove! Do you really mean to say you'vegot here in eight hours from London?"
"I left there at 12.35 this morning. Barracombe--you remember him--sawme off. But I'm sorry I can't come with you, Dick. I've only a coupleof hours to spare, and must get the petrol at once."
"My dear chap, are you mad? You can't go on at once, after eight hoursin the air. You'll crock up. Of course, if it's a wager--"
"It's a matter of life and death."
"Oh, in that case! But I'm afraid you won't get off in two hours.Things go slow in this country, and here's the first obstacle."
He pointed beyond the crowd, and Smith saw a troop of cavalryapproaching at a hand-gallop. The throng of Turks, Jews, andArmenians, who had all this time been volubly discussing the wonderfuldevil machine, broke apart with shouts of "Yol ver! Yol ver!" (Makeway!) The troop of horsemen clattered up, and Smith saw himself andhis aeroplane surrounded by a cordon of soldiers.
The captain looked suspiciously from the two grimy travellers to thespick-and-span Englishmen in golfing costume. He said something inTurkish to his lieutenant.
"What does he say?" asked Smith in a whisper.
"He's telling the lieutenant they must draw up a _proces-verbal_.Don't lose your temper, old man; he talks of putting you under arrestas a Bulgarian spy. You'll have to be patient. I'll do what I can,but if they make a diplomatic incident of it you'll be kept here aweek or more."
Johnson went up to the captain and addressed him politely in Turkish.The officer looked incredulous, and said something to his lieutenant,who trotted off across the field. In a few minutes Johnson returned toSmith, who was walking up and down in agitation. Rodier was fastasleep in the car of the aeroplane.
"I've given the captain the facts of the case," said Johnson, "and hedoes me the honour to disbelieve me. The lieutenant has gone off tothe Ministry of War for instructions. Meanwhile, you are under arrest,and they won't let you quit this spot without authority. If you reallymean that you must go at once----"
"I do indeed. The loss of an hour may ruin everything. My plan was toleave here at 10.30."
"But, my dear fellow, it's that now, and past."
Smith drew out his watch: it indicated 8.50. "London time," he said."You're two hours in advance of it, aren't you?"
Johnson laughed.
"Of course, we get used to our own time, here. But I was saying, ifyou _must_ go, this is what I suggest. You can't appear, and it's aswell, for you would certainly be delayed. I will go off to the Embassyand hustle a bit. If the wheels can be hurried, they shall be, Iassure you. Then I'll go on to Benzonana, get your petrol, and comestraight back. Meanwhile take my advice and have a sleep, like yourman there. You look dead beat, and no wonder. Why, I suppose you'vehad no breakfast?"
"I've had something, but not bacon and eggs, certainly. I shall dovery well. I will take your advice; sleep is better than food justnow. When you see Benzonana, ask if he has any addresses for me:Barracombe was going to wire some from London. Many thanks, old man."
Johnson said a word or two to the captain, who nodded gravely as Smithflung himself down beside the aeroplane, and, resting his head on hisarms, prepared to go to sleep.
The golfer knew the short cuts from the Ok Meidan to the city. He wentat a fine swinging pace through the hamlet of Koulaksiz, down CassimPasha, up the steep hill through the cemetery, past the Pera PalaceHotel. At that point he jumped into a carriage, and commanded thedriver to make all speed to the British Embassy. There he was lucky tofind a friend of his on the staff of the Embassy, a man well versed inthe customs and character of the Turks.
"The only thing to do," said the official, when Johnson had brieflyexplained the circumstances, "is to get an order from the Minister ofWar; but we shall have to hurry, as he may be attending a council, ora commission, or something of the sort. What is your friend's hurry?"
"I don't know. He says it's a matter of life or death."
"I should say death if he goes at such a preposterous speed. It musthave been nearly two hundred miles an hour: the Brennan mono-rail isnothing to it. At any rate, it's rather a feather in our cap--thisrecord, I mean, after so many have been made by the French and theAmericans--and if he has more recording to do we mustn't let Orientalsluggishness stand in the way."
This conversation passed while they were making their way from anupper room of the Embassy to the street. There they jumped into anaraba with a kavass on the box, dashed down Pera Street, past thebanking quarter, over the Galata bridge, up the Sublime Porte Road andinto the Bayazid Square, where they reached their destination. A crowdof servants was grouped about the Grand Entrance, and as Johnson andhis friend Callard came up, the Turks flocked around them officiously,assuring them with one voice that the Minister was attending acommission. Callard took no notice of them, but passed on with Johnsoninto the central hall, where, sitting over a charcoal brazier, theyfound a group of attendants rolling cigarettes and discussing themerits of the city's new water supply. Among them Callard spotted anacquaintance, who rose and said politely, "Welcome, dragoman bey, seatyourself."
Callard knew very well the necessity, in Turkish administrations, ofhaving a friend at court, and was aware, too, that where a highofficial failed, a servant might succeed. But he was too wellacquainted with the customs of the country to attempt to hastenmatters unduly. He began to discuss the weather; he compared theclimate of his interlocutor's province with that of the city; he spokeof the approaching Bairam festivities. Then, apparently apropos ofnothing, the man said, "I have been at the sheep-market to-day," aremark which Callard took as a broad hint for bakshish: the Turkwanted money to buy a fat sheep for the impending sacrifice. Heproduced two medjidies. The effect was magical. The two Englishmenwere guided to the small chamber where the Minister's coat hung, wherehis coffee was prepared and his official attendants sat. From thisroom access could be had to him without the knowledge of the hundredsof people outside waiting for an audience: wives of exiled offic
ers,officials without employment, mothers come to plead for erring sonswho had been dismissed.
Introduced to the Minister's presence, Callard wasted no time. Thecase was put to him; Johnson, whom he knew by sight, vouched for therespectability and good faith of his old comrade; and the Minister,apologizing for his subordinate's excess of zeal, scribbled an orderpermitting Lieutenant Smith to pursue his business free of allrestrictions by the military authorities.
"But," he said, "I have no power to give him exemption from CustomHouse control."
The Englishmen thanked him profusely, and with many salaams retired.
"We have succeeded better than I hoped," said Callard, as they passedout; "but we are still only half way, confound it! We shall have tohurry up if Smith is to get off in time. Arabadji," he cried to thecoachman awaiting them at the door, "the Direction-General of theCustom House."
The driver whipped up his horse; they dashed down the Sublime PorteHill, and drew up at the entrance to the Custom House.
"Is the Director-General here?" Callard asked of the doorkeeper.
"He is a little unwell, but the English adviser is here."
"We will see him," returned Callard; adding to Johnson, "We are inluck's way; the English adviser does his best to lessen theinconveniences of the Circumlocution Office."
They went up-stairs, and were met by an attendant who showed them intoan unpretentious room, where an Englishman, wearing a fez, was seatedat a table covered with papers and surrounded by a crowd of merchantsand officials. Questions of infinite variety were being submitted tohim.
"Excellence, are we to accept as samples two dozen left-hand gloves?This merchant brought two dozen right-hand gloves last week."
Then the merchant and the official began to wrangle. For some minutesCallard in vain tried to get a word in edgeways; then at last theCouncillor, pushing back his fez with an air of weary patience, turnedto the newcomers and asked their business. A few words sufficed; theCouncillor rang a bell on the table, and when his secretary appeared,ordered him to make out a _laissez-passer_ for Lieutenant Smith forall the Custom Houses of the Empire. This done, he turned once more tolisten to the interminable dispute about the left-hand gloves.
"We are doing well," said Callard, as the two left the Custom House."There's still nearly an hour to spare. Now for the petrol."
They drove across the Galata bridge to the district of KourshounlouHan, and found that Benzonana had had the petrol ready at earlymorning, and, what was more, had it at that moment in a conveyance fortransport. Johnson asked him if he had received any addresses fromLondon, and the man handed him a folded paper. Then, asking him tosend the petrol and some machine oil at once to the Ok Meidan, the twoEnglishmen reentered their carriage, dashed up the Maltese Street,past the Bank and the Economic Stores, up the Municipality Hill, andagain down by a short cut to the Admiralty. It was an hour and a halfsince Johnson had set forth on his errand.
They found Smith and Rodier talking to the second golfer, boilingcoffee in a little portable stove, and eating a kind of shortbreadthey had purchased of one of the simitdjis or itinerant vendors ofthat article who had been doing a roaring trade with the children, andeven the elders, among the sightseers.
"Don't taste bad, spread with Bovril," said Smith, as Johnson andCallard alighted from their carriage.
The crowd had grown to immense proportions. Smith said they had beenclamouring ever since Johnson had been gone, and he would rather liketo know what they said.
"Probably discussing whether the Commander of the Faithful won't orderyou to be flung into the Bosphorus," said Callard.
The soldiers were still on guard round the aeroplane. Johnsonapproached the captain and showed him the Minister of War's order.Almost at the same moment an aide-de-camp came galloping up from theMinister himself to assure the officer that all was right.
"But don't go yet, captain," said Johnson anxiously. "My friend willrequire a clear space for starting his aeroplane, and without your menwe shall never get the crowd back."
The officer agreed to wait until the Englishman departed, and Johnsonreturned to Smith to give him the paper he had received fromBenzonana. Callard had already related their experiences at theMinistry of War and the Custom House.
"But what about the petrol?" asked Smith. "Time's getting on."
"He said he had it all ready to send. Ah! I guess this is it coming."
A way was parted through the crowd, and there came up with greatrattling and creaking a heavy motor omnibus of the type that firstappeared on the streets of London. It was crowded within and withoutwith Turks young and old.
"Where did you get that old rattler?" asked Smith, laughing.
"Oh, several came out here a year or two ago; bought up cheap when theCommissioner of Police couldn't stand 'em any longer. They're alwaysbreaking down. No doubt your petrol is inside, and you may thinkyourself lucky it has got here."
The car came to a stand: the Turks on the roof retained their places;those within lugged out the cans of petrol and oil, and placed them inthe aeroplane at Rodier's direction. Smith meanwhile was chatting withthe Englishmen, fending off their questions as to his destination.
"I may send you a wire from my next stopping-place," he said. "Thatreminds me. Will you send a wire to Barracombe for me, Johnson? Youknow his address. And one to my sister at home. I promised I would lether know. Simply say 'All well.' Now can you get the captain to clearthe course for me?"
The captain and his men took a long time over this business, and Smithlonged for a few London policemen to show them how to do it. But theexcited crowd was at length forced back so far as to allow asufficient running-off space. Smith shook hands warmly with theEnglishmen; with Rodier he took his place in the car; then at a jerkof the lever the aeroplane shot forward, and, amid cries of "Goodluck!" from the Englishmen, clapping of hands and loud "Mashallahs!"from the excited mob, it rose gracefully into the air.
"Only five minutes late, mister," said Rodier. "All goes well."