But there came a day when Abdul Hamid kept a promise. Two ‘Greek’ towns, Nevaska and Klissura, were captured by insurgents and the Turkish garrison put to death. Some time elapsed before the Turks saw fit to retake the towns, and during the interval the Sultan was persuaded not ‘to further alienate Greek sympathies.’
At the approach of a strong body of Turks the insurgents retired, and the soldiers entered the town in military order, blades sheathed, and leading no asses laden with petroleum.[9]
But massacre and the burning of villages continued, and refugees entered Monastir in large numbers, some coming in alone, others travelling in companies. Several hundred women and children who arrived from Smelivo, one of Bakhtiar’s ‘victories,’ were driven back from Monastir by troops, though without further reduction of their numbers. The news of this came to the Consuls in a very few hours, and the Austrian, who was most active, visited the Governor-General at once and protested; whereupon the survivors of Smelivo were allowed to enter Monastir.
One day a woman among the refugees went to Herr Kraal and asked him to obtain the release of a son, whom she had thought dead, but had seen alive in the custody of certain Turks. The Consul caused his dragoman to ascertain where the boy was kept, and on learning the exact house, he called on Hilmi Pasha and stated the case. His excellency was horrified at such a charge against a Turk. For what purpose would a Mohamedan steal a Christian child? The Consul gave the Governor-General the location of the house, and threatened to send his dragoman and kavasses to release the child unless the police were put to the job at once. An Austrian dragoman accompanied the Turkish police; the boy was found and restored to his mother.
There was a Greek in Monastir known as a professional redeemer of stolen Christians. Through the instrumentality of the Greek Vice-Consul, Jean Dragoumis, this curious character and I were brought together. I ascertained from him that he had, in a period of twenty years, participated in the rescue of seventeen of his compatriots. Most of them were girls and women stolen by force or enticed from their own homes by Mohamedans. The most recent instance of this fortunately infrequent practice occurred, the native alleged, during our presence in Monastir. Two small boys were brought into Monastir by a Turkish soldier and ‘offered for sale on the market place’ along with other plunder. A subscription was raised among some Greeks, according to my informant, and the children were ‘purchased’ from the Turk for four mijidiehs. ‘Since Herr Kraal has protested,’ said the rescuer of Christians, ‘orders have been issued that no more stolen children shall be brought into Monastir.’ Jean Dragoumis himself, a splendid young Greek, interpreted for me on this occasion.
It is always difficult in Turkey to know just what is true and what is false. Even the peasants will attempt, for one consideration or another, to impose upon the stranger. Sometimes they invent or embellish incidents simply for vain notoriety, and again with deliberate intent to prejudice your sympathy. The refugees who came into Monastir from the surrounding country told some terrible tales. They told of dead lying unburied by the roadway, where they had been shot for no other reason than their race—which was undoubtedly true. They told in many instances of dogs gorging upon the unburied dead—which is quite probable; the hungry, bread-fed dogs of Turkey would devour any flesh. They told, in one case, of children having been thrown alive into a burning lime-kiln—which is possible. They told of women having been flayed alive—which I do not believe; it is not in the Turk’s nature to inflict lingering torture.
My companion and I saw among the refugees in the Greek hospital a woman whose shoulder had been almost severed from her body with a single sword slash; another woman whose hand had been cut off with a sabre—the arm, she said, had held her infant, which was hacked to pieces at her feet. We saw a small boy who had been shot through the head, and a small girl who had been stabbed in several places. These were the most cruel of many cases in the hospital.
On one occasion we succeeded in entering the Turkish civil hospital, where there were a number of wounded Bulgarians. In a women’s ward, where bandaged heads and limbs were in plain evidence, the dutiful doctor, a Greek, informed us that his patients were all suffering from ‘feminine complaints.’
‘But,’ we said, ‘some of them appear to be wounded.’
‘Oh, a few,’ replied the loyal servant of the Sultan, ‘must have attempted to commit suicide. They were found with wounds.’