The hill is crowned by a gilded kiosk, glittering among cypresses and plane trees; and the whole establishment is more like a fairy creation, than the result of human invention and labour.
On the morrow, we decided on paying another visit to the Seraï Bournou; as the following day was that fixed for our departure. But alas! when that morrow came, we had reason to congratulate ourselves on having already penetrated beyond the “Golden Gate;” for the waves of the channel were running mountain high, and the opposite coast was lost in a dense vapour of sleet and rain. The disappointment was extreme; but, as there was no alternative, we were compelled to submit. For once “our star was bankrupt;” and we were fain to console ourselves with the reflection that our last day in Asia had been so worthily spent.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Bosphorus in Mist—The Ferdinando Primo—Embarkation—Tardy Passengers—The Black Sea—The Turkish Woman—Varna—Visit to the Pasha—Rustem Bey—Mustapha Najib Pasha—Turkish Gallantry—The Lines—Sunset Landscape—Bulgarian Colonies—Discomforts of a Deck Passage.
I never beheld the Bosphorus to less advantage than on the morning of our departure from Constantinople; for, as if to lessen our regrets on leaving it, its shores were concealed by mists formed of small light rain, which effectually veiled their beauty. As cloud after cloud rolled by, each succeeded by a denser and darker vapour than its predecessor, we lost sight of every accustomed object; and, though I flung back the casement, and turned “a last, long, lingering look” along the channel, I was unable to distinguish even the most prominent points of view.
The steam vessel Ferdinando Primo, in which we had secured our passage, was to arrive at Yenikeuÿ at mid-day; and we spent the earlier hours of the morning with some Greek friends whose summer residence overhung the stream; and from whose windows we had hitherto been enabled to see the fairy-like Palace of Beglierbey, and the hill-seated Castle of Mahomet. But, alas! for our parting associations—the gilded glories of the Imperial Seraï, and the ancient towers of the Prophet’s Fortress, were alike invisible; despite the glitter of the one, and the whitewash which had recently been profusely and provokingly lavished on the time-tinted walls of the other.
Onward crept the mist as the day advanced; and at length the opposite shore became veiled by a vapour so dense that even the little village of Sultanïè, immediately facing the terrace, disappeared; and nothing was distinguishable through the darkness save the foamy crests of the waves, as they were driven onward by the force of the current; and the white gleam of the seagull’s extended wings, as he dipped his bosom for an instant in the troubled waters, and then rose, with a wild cry, into the murky atmosphere.
It was an hour of tears; and I am not quite sure whether at the moment I repined that no garish sun shone forth to mock them; while I am nevertheless certain that a more comfortless sensation never oppressed me, than that with which I contemplated the approach of the vessel through the turbid waves; her column of sable smoke lending a deeper tint to the angry clouds; and her prow dashing aside the current in streaks of foam. As she lay-to in front of the house, we hurried into the caïque that was already freighted with our luggage; turned a last look towards the kind ones who thronged the terrace in despite of the fast-falling rain; and pushed out into the channel.