A Trip to the Orient: The Story of a Mediterranean Cruise

by Robert Urie Jacob

The Turkish quarantine physician in red fez and handsome fur overcoat, accompanied by his assistants and the inspector, came on board. Madam Rumor whispers that a good sized tip sometimes obviates tedious personal examinations and insures prompt issuance of a clean bill of health without exasperating delays. However it was, the quarantine physician, after consulting with the ship physician, quickly found the health conditions satisfactory, and the inspector of cargoes granted his permit. The pilot who was to guide the vessel through the swiftly flowing current of the Hellespont joined us here, and with him came the dragoman or chief guide who had been engaged by the managers to take special charge of the sight-seeing excursions of our party while in Constantinople.

Proceeding slowly on our way, we noticed half a dozen Turkish warships lying in the stream near by. One who claimed to know said that the Turkish naval vessels had been gathering barnacles and mussels for four years and were unfit for active service. But the fortresses guarding the strait, he said, were in excellent condition and well equipped with batteries of modern make.

The Strait of Dardanelles, for a distance of forty miles separating the continent of Asia from that of Europe, varies in width, narrowing to less than one mile at some places and broadening out to four miles at others. By referring to the steamer's atlas, consulting guide books, exchanging historical knowledge, and questioning good-natured officials, the tourists obtained information about the various points of interest that they were passing. Beyond the entrance, at the narrowest point of the strait, the place was pointed out where the Persian king Xerxes with his vast army crossed the channel on a bridge of boats for the invasion of Europe in the year 480 B.C.

"Little then," remarked a tourist, "did that imperious invader dream that within a year, in humiliation and defeat, and with only a poor remnant of that great army, he would recross that strait to Asia again."

At the same place in the channel, we were informed, Alexander the Great with his Greek legions crossed from Europe in the year 334 B.C. and continued his victorious march until all the then known portion of Asia was subdued to his rule.

"Then," said another tourist, "when flushed with victory, he wept for other worlds to conquer. To me the saddest part of Alexander's history is that he was himself conquered by his own appetite and never returned to his native shore."

Another tragic tale connected with that place is the story of Hero and Leander. Across that mile of swiftly flowing current, the story says, Leander nightly swam from Abydos to the tower on the opposite shore to visit his beloved Hero, the priestess of Venus. In one of his nightly excursions the swimmer was drowned in a storm, and Hero, after hearing of Leander's death, despairingly threw herself into the sea to share his sad fate.

"There is the height from which Hero cast herself," said an official, "and this is the place where Lord Byron, in emulation of Leander, performed the same difficult feat of swimming the channel."

To the right, on the Asian shore not far away, was the plain of Troy where Dr. Schlieman won fame by making the excavations and discoveries which led to the location of the lost city of Troy. In this ancient city of Troy, according to Homer, the beautiful Grecian princess Helen, abducted by Paris, the son of the King of Troy, was detained for ten years. The enraged Greeks under Ulysses and Ajax, seeking to rescue the princess, besieged the city and finally succeeded in entering its gates and accomplishing their purpose by means of the stratagem of a huge wooden horse.

After sailing through the length of the Sea of Marmora, about one hundred and ten miles, we arrived at five o'clock in the evening within sight of the domes and minarets that crown the promontory at the entrance to the Strait of Bosporus. From the time we caught our first glimpse of a distant minaret, until the anchor of our steamer was dropped in the channel, every tourist was intent on the picturesque views which presented themselves. While the Moltke was steadily moving onward and our point of view continually changing, the dragoman at intervals pointed out the various places of interest, now on one side, now on the other.