“Can’t I have three?” he asked again.
“You can have all who are under fifty,” I answered.
But that did not satisfy him, as there was not a solitary person of distinction under that age limit. Bedri really had his eye on Messieurs Weyl, Rey, and Dr. Frew. But I had one “notable” up my sleeve whom I was willing to concede. Dr. Wigram, an Anglican clergyman, one of the most prominent men in the foreign colony, had pleaded with me, asking that he might be permitted to go with the hostages and furnish them such consolation as religion could give them. I knew that nothing would delight Dr. Wigram more than to be thrown as a sop to Bedri’s passion for “notables.”
“Dr. Wigram is the only notable you can have,” I said to Bedri. So he accepted him as the best that he could do in that line.
Mr. Hoffman Philip, the Conseiller of the American Embassy—now American Minister to Colombia—had already expressed a desire to accompany the hostages, so that he might minister to their comfort. This was nothing new in the manifestation of a fine humanitarian spirit in Mr. Philip. Although not in good health, Mr. Philip had returned to Constantinople after Turkey had entered the war in order that he might assist me in the work of caring for the refugees. Through all that arduous period he constantly displayed that sympathy for the unfortunate, the sick, and the poor which is innate in his character. Though it was somewhat irregular for a representative of the Embassy to engage in such a hazardous enterprise as this one, Mr. Philip pleaded so earnestly that finally I reluctantly gave my consent. I also obtained permission for Mr. Arthur Ruhl and Mr. Henry West Suydam, of the Brooklyn Eagle, to accompany the party.
At the end Bedri had to have his little joke. Though the fifty were informed that the boat for Gallipoli would leave the next morning at six o’clock, Bedri, with his police, visited their houses at midnight, and routed them all out of bed. The crowd that assembled at the dock the next morning looked somewhat weatherbeaten and worse for wear. Bedri was there, superintending the whole proceeding, and when he came up to me he good-naturedly reproached me again for letting him have only one “notable.” In the main he behaved very decently, though he could not refrain from telling the hostages that the British aeroplanes were dropping bombs on Gallipoli! Of the twenty-five “Englishmen” assembled, there were only two who had been born in England, and, of the twenty-five “Frenchmen,” only two who had been born in France! They carried satchels containing food and other essentials, their assembled relatives had additional bundles, and Mrs. Morgenthau sent several large cases of food to the ship. The parting of these young men with their families was affecting, but they all stood it bravely.
I returned to the Embassy, somewhat wearied by the excitement of the last few days and in no particularly gracious humour for the honour which now awaited me. For I had been there only a few minutes when His Excellency the German Ambassador was announced. Wangenheim discussed commonplaces for a few minutes and then approached the real object of his call. He asked me to telegraph to Washington that he had been “helpful” in getting the number of the Gallipoli hostages reduced to fifty! In view of the actual happenings, this request was so preposterous that I almost laughed in his face. I had known that, in going through the form of speaking to the Grand Vizier, Wangenheim had been manufacturing an alibi for future use, but I had not expected him to fall back upon it so soon.
“Well,” said Wangenheim, “at least telegraph your Government that I didn’t ‘hetz’ the Turks in this matter.”
The German verb “hetzen” means about the same as the English “sic,” in the sense of inciting a dog. I was in no mood to give Wangenheim a clean bill of health, and told him so. In fact, I specifically reported to Washington that he had refused to help me. A day or two afterward Wangenheim called me on the telephone and began to talk in an excited and angry tone. His Government had wired him about my telegram to Washington. I told him that if he desired credit for assistance in matters of this kind he should really exert himself and do something.
The hostages had an uncomfortable time at Gallipoli; they were put into two wooden houses, with no beds, and no food except that which they had brought themselves. The days and nights were made wretched by the abundant vermin that is a commonplace in Turkey. Had Mr. Philip not gone with them, they would have suffered seriously. After the unfortunates had been there for a few days I began work with Enver again to get them back. Sir Edward Grey, then British Secretary for Foreign Affairs, had requested our State Department to send me a message with the request that I present it to Enver and his fellow Ministers. Its purport was that the British Government would hold them personally responsible for any injury to the hostages. I presented this message to Enver on May 9th. I had seen Enver in many moods, but the unbridled rage which Sir Edward’s admonition now caused was something entirely new. As I read the telegram his face became livid, and he absolutely lost control of himself. The European polish which Enver had sedulously acquired dropped like a mask; I now saw him for what he really was—a savage, blood-thirsty Turk.