We anchored off the shore of Tripoli but were unable to land on account of the city's being under quarantine for cholera. The little steamer continued on to Alexandretta. Richardson and I went ashore here and wandered in and out among the markets. It is a town of thirty thousand people and possesses nothing of extraordinary interest. The Virginia received orders to go to Bayas, a small port to the north, for several thousand boxes of oranges to be brought to Alexandretta.
Morning found us off the coast of Bayas. During the day a number of Greeks with their wives and daughters came on board. They were orange growers of Syria. Their presence meant jam for breakfast, a delicacy we didn't otherwise get. Richardson nearly disgraced America by the amount he ate. The steamer returned to Alexandretta that evening and discharged her cargo of fruit.
Mersina, a city of about fifty thousand people, was the next place on our itinerary. The night's trip proved a rough one. A strong wind stirred up a very heavy sea. The little boat was tossed about as though it had no weight. The waves broke over the ship and water mysteriously came in our cabin in spite of the fact that the portholes were securely closed. It was one of the wettest nights of my life. It seemed as though some one was emptying a tub of water in our room every minute. Everything was literally swimming in water. It was foot deep in our stateroom in the morning. Richardson and I waded out of the cabin as wet as two oysters and dressed in the saloon.
The Port of Dedeagatch
The night had been a wet one and a long one to us. But to the poor Greek governess in the adjoining stateroom it was one of continual distress. The gruesome and appalling shrieks and groans which emanated from this unfortunate creature indicated that she was in the last stages of sea-sickness. I have seen thousands of people suffering with this ailment but I never heard one perform as this young Greek did. All night she gasped for breath, coughed and choked. She gave vent to the most heart-rending whoops which penetrated to all parts of the ship. We thought the poor girl would strangle to death.
During the following night the steamer put into Rhodes. Much to our regret we were off before morning and there was no opportunity to land. A short stop was made at Khios, a small town on an island of the same name off the coast of Asia Minor.
We steamed into the beautiful bay of Smyrna with the city clinging snugly to a hundred hills clothed in a garment of evergreen. Every section of the world seems to have its Paris, and Smyrna has this distinction for the Near East. There are many French people among its half million inhabitants and the city is gay with cafés, theatres and places of amusement. We only had a short time to go about while the steamer discharged a small consignment of freight.
Two hundred Turks were driven up the gangway to go as deck passengers to Dedeagatch, a little seaport in Southern Bulgaria. It was a motley crowd of human freight that huddled in bunches on the forward deck. The men with red fezzes or soiled turbans and unkempt straggly beards were an unattractive lot. The women with their black dresses covering shapeless figures and with their veiled faces didn't look like human beings. They had the appearance of walking pyramids.