He gave us much interesting information as to the prospects of war and other matters. He said that artillery was already posted on the heights above Gussinje, and that the prince's troops would not be long in driving out the enemy. He told us he was not allowed to fight himself, his services as armourer being so exceedingly important. This was a source of great grief to him. In the last war he ran away from his work and joined the troops. The prince caught and rebuked him, sent him back to his forge, and told him to consider himself as a prisoner there. He once more sneaked down to the front during a great battle, his warlike ardour being too much for him. This time again the prince found him out, but could not refrain from laughing, and was obliged to pardon him.
The next day Robinson rode in with both horses. He had made rather a muddle of his errand, for having come down from Cettinje as far as Rieka, he then left Marco, to bring the tent and baggage on by londra to a place called Jabiak. It ultimately turned out that Jabiak was just as far from here as Rieka was. Brown rode off with a guide to this place, and then found the unhappy Marco sitting alone, disconsolate, tobacco-less, on the white elephant, mid the sedges by the shores of the lake, waiting till he should be called for. Brown described him as being an indescribably piteous object, as he meditated alone in that dismal swamp.
When, on the following day, Brown, Marco, the white elephant, and the two horses returned, we held a council; and though all unanimous in desiring to leave Podgoritza as soon as possible, could not decide as to whither we had best go until this dilatory war, which had been promised us by Robinson and Jones as an inducement to postpone our Albanian travels, should commence. As we discussed warmly the armourer came in, and said, "The minister of war wishes to see you as soon as you can give him an hour." "We can come now," we replied. So he ushered us into the reception-room of the war ministry, where sat the courteous and handsome old veteran, looking fully twenty years younger than he is. We sat on a divan, and were presented with coffee and cigarettes in the Turkish style. The armourer acted as interpreter, translating the general's words into German, which language both Jones and Robinson understood well. He said "he was exceedingly glad to see English travelling in his wild native country, and trusted we liked the people. Go all over it," he added; "you will be safe. Pilfering and highway robbery are quite unknown among us." On being questioned as to the preparations for war, he said, "It was to tell you about this I desired to see you. You wish to see the campaign: you shall do so. You shall come with me as my guests. My servants shall be yours. On no account leave the country just yet. What will be done will be worth your seeing." On being told that we were rather pressed for time, he went on to say, "Negotiations are pending at Constantinople. In four days we shall know all. Come to me then, and I can tell the very hour we march. That war will be, I am certain. The Albanians are sure to resist. Prince Nikita too has sworn to take Gussinje. It is his by treaty. We will take it, and no quarter will we give the dogs. Why should we? They are rebels. Turkey says she has given up the place to us, and that it is not her fault if the inhabitants resist. We will not spare one of them. If you wish to see something of the country before you see me again, go to Douka, where the great ruins are—they are worth visiting—then you can return here."
This proposal pleased us, so the commissariat was sent out to procure a large quantity of raki, mutton, flour, and other necessaries. Robinson was anxious to try the white elephant as soon as possible, so it was determined to take one of our horses to bear our impedimenta, and march out to as near Douka as we could manage this afternoon, and then camp for the night.
Douka is situated on the right bank of the river Moracha, some miles above Podgoritza.
Our landlord came with us, for as the sun was setting we did not expect to march for more than an hour, and he wished to see us comfortably settled for the night. Marco we left behind.
We marched on the left bank of the Moracha, thus cutting off a long loop which the stream formed here, and by sunset had arrived at a spot just opposite to the ruins of Douka, the broad and foaming river dividing us from it.
We pitched our tent in the plain not far from the precipitous edge of the river. The white elephant certainly looked very imposing, and was very comfortable. We unpacked the horse, and arranged all our property in an orderly manner in our new home. Then our landlord rode back to Podgoritza. The sun was now setting over the western hills, so we lost no time in cutting down some of the brushwood, and making a large fire some ten yards from the entrance of the tent; the pot was then put on, and a tasty stew prepared of mutton, grease-meal, onions, pepper, and salt.
I do not know whether, in Montenegro, to pitch a tent and light a fire signifies a general invitation to the country-side to come and make merry and carouse, but that was the result on this occasion. As night set in, first one and then another armed highlander would drop in, walk into our tent in the calmest manner, quite sans gêne, shake us by the hand, with a "Dobro Eutro Gospodina," then sit down, roll himself a cigarette, and commence smoking. At first we thought these people rather cool, but they were so polite that it was evident they did not imagine their conduct to be in any way extraordinary.
At last a large crowd had assembled round our tent—a very curious people. Where they came from we could not imagine. Houses there were none in sight. They seemed to have no homes, no occupation. It was a matter of utter indifference to them where they were at any time, or where they slept. We were at this encampment for two days: all the time they remained outside the tent in a most contented matter. They were just as well there as anywhere else. After dinner we provided coffee and raki for our visitors. Then an impromptu entertainment followed. Robinson and myself gave a conjuring entertainment for the amusement of the wild people. We sat at the remote end of the tent. About seventeen of the audience sat inside in a double row: these were the swells in the stalls. The gods outside filled up the open door and looked over each other's shoulders, in a compact and surging mass. The conjuring was much appreciated by our audience.