Looking Seaward Again

by Baron Walter Runciman Runciman

"Then who the devil is it? By Jupiter! I believe it is Osman."

"I dare not tell you his name; he has been reconnoitring, and has had narrow escapes."

"That's not what I want to know. Tell me straight away—is it Osman Pasha, or is it not?"

"Captain," said the wily interpreter, "this is a secret mission. I cannot tell secrets that may get us all into trouble; but I will inform you that you will hear of this warrior during the next few months. I must ask you to come and see him. He cannot speak one word of English. Bring your chart, as he is sure to ask you to point out to him exactly our position."

The captain followed the interpreter into the presence of a majestic-looking person, who saluted him with kindly dignity. His face wore a thoughtful appearance; his eyes were penetrating, and under a massive forehead there rested well-developed eyebrows, betokening keen observation. His chin and nose were strong, and altogether his general looks, if not handsome, were comely. He gave the commander a real, big-hearted grip of the hand, which settled the question of friendship for him at once. Sailors detest a "grisly shake of the flipper." Likes and dislikes are invariably fixed by this test. The pasha was exceedingly cordial; asked, through his interpreter, all sorts of questions about the British Government, British statesmen, admirals, and generals, and the Army and Navy; but, above all, he was anxious to hear whether the British people were for or against Turkey. He was aware that Disraeli was with his nation, and regretted the attitude of Gladstone. He said poor Turkey had many enemies, and when the captain told him that he thought the bulk of the British people were in favour of Disraeli's policy, he held out his hand again in token of appreciation. The captain spoke very frankly about the Bulgarian atrocities, and the bad policy of the Turkish Government with her subject races. The pasha admitted that reforms ought to be given, but held that the Balkan insurrections were encouraged by Russia in order to ultimately get hold of Constantinople.

"My Government," said he, "is a better Government than that of Russia. We do not treat our people worse than she does hers. Are there no atrocities committed in Russia proper, in Siberia, in Poland? Why does Mr. Gladstone not demand that Russia shall give reforms to her subject races? Is it because she is big, and near to India, and calls herself a Christian nation? We are Mohammedans; and our religion teaches honesty, cleanness, sobriety, devotion to our God and his prophet Mahomet, and we adhere to it. Does the Russian adhere to his religion, which I admit, if carried out, is as good as ours? I think our consistency is superior to theirs, and the extent of our cruelty no worse, though I do not justify it. But do you think that the Servians, Armenians, Herzegovinians, Montenegrins, and Bulgarians are saints? Do you think that the Turkish people and Governors have not been provoked to retaliation? There may have been excesses, but no one who knows the different races will say that the Turks are all bad, or that the subject races are all good."

He then requested to be shown the position of the steamer on the chart, asked if there was any danger of collision if the fog continued, and hoped she was steaming full speed, as he must get to Constantinople without delay. The captain informed him that so long as he heard the whistle going the fog was still on, and it might become necessary to ease down as she drew towards the regular track of vessels; and when the danger of collision was explained to him, he agreed that it was necessary to guard against it, but asked through his interpreter that he should be shown the chart every four hours, which was agreed. The interpreter then intimated that the priest would hold a service previous to retiring to rest, and during the passage they would be held before and after every meal. The food, cooking utensils, and cook were provided by themselves. They would not eat the food of Christians, or use their utensils for the purpose of preparing it. In fact, what with the weird, shrill wail of their "yahing" prayers, the intolerable smell of their cooking, the smoke from their "hubblebubbles," and a perpetual run of messages coming from the pasha (while he was awake) to the officer in charge, they became somewhat of a nuisance before the first twenty-four hours had expired. The officers could not get their proper rest, which caused them to feel justified in becoming profane, and wishing the Turkish windpipes would snap.

The fog lifted, as it generally does, a little before noon, on the day after sailing, and an accurate latitude was got; but during the afternoon it shut down blacker than ever. The engines had to be slowed, and the whistle was constantly going. The pasha's anxiety to get to his destination was giving him constant worry, and he became more and more troublesome. The interpreter explained that the Sultan was waiting to consult his master about the plan of campaign, and other military matters, and that the delay was making the pasha impatient; but in spite of annoying pressure, the captain refused to depart from the wise precaution of going slow while the fog lasted. At midnight it cleared up a little, and the engines were put at full speed until 8 a.m. the following morning, when they ran into a bank of fog again. The speed was slackened to dead slow, and as she was nearing the Bosphorus land the lead was kept going; but, owing to the great depth of water, sounding is little guide towards keeping vessels clear of the rocks of that steep and iron-bound coast. Currents run with rapid irregularity, and in no part of the world is navigation more treacherous than there. According to the reckoning, the vessel was within four miles of the entrance to the Bosphorus, but no prudent navigator would have risked going farther until he could see his way; so orders were given to stop her. This brought more urgent messages from the pasha. As the day wore on and the mist still continued, all hope of getting into the Bosphorus had disappeared. The pasha sent for the captain, and said he must be at Constantinople that evening.

"Well," said the captain to the interpreter, "tell your master that if the Sultan and all his concubines were to ask me to go ahead I would have to refuse."

Then he proceeded to point out the dangers on the chart. This did not appeal to the pasha's military understanding. What he wanted was to be landed somewhere, and he did not regard running the vessel ashore with any disastrous consequences to himself until he was assured that the rocks were so steep that even in a calm the vessel might sink in deep water and everybody be drowned.