The night was rainy and sticky, and what with two suits, a heavy trench burberry lined, and with about ten pounds of food, I developed a most awful stitch in my side. The weight of my coat I estimate at twenty pounds. The others felt the walk less, but then I was a much older prisoner, and had been solitarily confined for weeks and weeks, often without stretching my legs. More than one policeman looked at me. I wore a fez, and at last Doust walked more slowly. With my burberry on and field cap I passed as a German. While carrying my burberry on my arm and wearing a mufti jacket and fez, I passed for a local inhabitant. We adopted our own pace and walked on opposite sides of the road. The colonel most kindly changed coats with me, his being much lighter. In the heart of the traffic by the tramway at Sedkigevy, Doust stopped us to sign some document purporting to be that he had helped us to escape, so he said! He gave us a box of wedding cake at the same time, for he had been married on Christmas Day. We put our names on the paper without reading it as we were under every one's eye. Rather an unnecessary and totally unwise procedure I thought. We were now nearing Galata Bridge. Passing Maritza café, now dark and gloomy, I jocularly suggested a drink. It was, of course, closed. Doust shook hands and left us. Castell had gone ahead it seemed, and ought now to be paddling about disguised as a boatman near Galata. Early that evening he had sent some one ahead with some bribes for the Turkish water police, whose duties were to examine any one leaving the jetty by Galata Bridge. The German guard also was informed that some German officers were coming over to the Korkovado. I now walked on a hundred yards ahead alone, with a good Prussian swagger, wearing my burberry and cap. A Turk or two saluted me, and some Germans also. But one of the latter came boldly up to me and I thought I was discovered. The Germans would be the last to let us escape, although they often sympathised with us. I pretended, however, I was in a great rage. I roared out in German for a boat for the Korkovado, and spoke sharply to the police, asking them if they had nothing to do. The fellow then stopped, turned, and strode off on the regulation beat. A boat now came out from the ruck with several others behind it. I recognized Castell disguised as a ferryman, and got aboard.
A few moments afterwards, what seemed ages to me, the other two appeared, the police regarding us all. We pushed off. The water was choppy even here. We passed the Korkovado in the dark, the anchored boats, and what appeared to be a guardship. Here certain boats were challenged. Castell earlier in the evening by lying off for some time near these boats, had heard the password given by other boats on going past this point. He now used it once. As the water moved behind us, one felt that one was at last committed to the attempt for good or bad. Stamboul was behind us. We had now actually reached the Marmora Sea by steady rowing. It was about 8.30 p.m.
We had purposely not conversed until we were away from the jetty, and now took stock. Our dismay may be imagined when we found the money had not been brought, and for which we had given cheques. The boat we had bought. The lifebelts had been forgotten. I had said we couldn't start without them. In fact, these and buckets for bailing I had repeatedly asked for, and was assured they were there. There was no spare mast, one faulty rowlock, a chart and telescope. We might have been going on a voyage of discovery to a new America!
I put the wedding cake down near our seat, and four dozen eggs Castell had brought were placed on another. Castell and Gardiner and I alternately sat on these. In fact the boat seemed full of eggs, and we joked about poultry farming. Only two loaves had been brought. Then I sat in some more eggs that were covered up by a coat.
We were now a mile or more out in a dark heaving sea, at this stage about a foot of water in the boat, which plunged violently especially as Castell's oars were generally in the trough of the sea just at the wrong time. By the light of our lanterns it was a queer show altogether. Gardiner moved about in a most unsteady fashion, with wedding cake sticking to his clothes, and we were all over egg. I fell to eating them raw. Ever since the sporting days of my youth I have liked eggs. The others chaffed me about this, and we became quite jocular over the whole show. The wind and sea now made progress difficult. I opined that if we didn't get on, the commandant at dawn would see us from his window. Castell had told us he knew everything about a boat. In fact, he knew extraordinarily little. He assured us that when we got out a bit more the wind from the Bosphorus would enable us to hoist a sail. We were a long while getting there, and more than once were very nearly upset. The swell increased tremendously. One second we saw the gloomy form of mosques and minarets, and lights, the next we were in the trough of the sea.
I had had the rudder, but now started to bail out with small tins. It was useless to be angry with our well-meaning friends, but to put it simply, the whole bandobast was a horrible "let down." I have before been in a storm without a bailer, which had been washed overboard, and almost lost my life through the same cause. Gardiner nearly fell overboard more than once in shifting about. I was trying to bail with one hand and keep the boat's head on to the sea, eating eggs in spare seconds. The boat rose and fell and plunged severely. Suddenly Castell's oars fell plop into the sea, and he vomited frightfully. Here was our skipper sea-sick! I am afraid I was bad-mannered enough to laugh outright. Colonel Newcombe joined in. Gardiner was silent, we learned why a few minutes later. Colonel Newcombe pulled splendidly for some time, and then I, and then Gardiner. The colonel and I bailed with all our might, bailing out eggs (the bad ones floated), wedding cake, cheese, and all kinds of garments. The boat was like a horse out of control. And filling rapidly. Gardiner couldn't get both his oars into the water at the same time, or if he did they fouled his knees, and his legs beat the bilge and air trying to recover his balance. Then Colonel Newcombe took the oars again, and we got along, although slowly. Subsequently our skipper decided on the sail. We ran it up, and the boat sprang before the wind in a most enthusiastic manner. The boat, I have forgotten to note, was about twelve feet long, and, of course, quite open. She cut through the water at a great pace, the black waves rushing past us like snakes. We were heading, however, between Haida Pasha and Principo instead of the open sea, and we thought of General Townshend asleep in his excellent bungalow, and some one suggested we paid him a visit.
I suggested at this juncture that the Dardanelles were not in this direction. We tried to get her around, but the wind was changing and varied greatly. It now came on to blow a gale. There was nothing for it but to tack. Our tacking, however, was much like a political speech of Mr. Asquith, chiefly zigzag, without much progress. The wind beat us up to the Bosphorus, and one tack very nearly landed us on a buoy. We were driven in the wrong direction, and I prophesied we would ultimately land in the Sultan's kitchen. Poor Gardiner now became very sea-sick, and said things to me for eating eggs. I said I enjoyed them, and that as a matter of fact I hadn't been able to afford eggs for ages.
Suddenly there was a loud report, as if some one had fired from close by. The boat nearly upset. We shipped a heavy wave that broke over us, and something wild and heavy smothered us. It was the sail. The mast had broken off short above the stays. We were very nearly wrecked, for the boat was heavily waterlogged and still leaking horribly. Hitherto our pace had kept her going. We all bailed for life, then Newcombe and I took the oars. There appeared to be no spare mast or cord. Then we bailed for life, while the colonel pulled magnificently.
When he was tired I took over, and found that, notwithstanding my back, I could pull fairly well.