The Autobiography of a Journalist, Volume IIStillman, William James
History
The Autobiography of a Journalist, Volume II
Stillman, William James
Journalists -- Biography; Stillman, William James, 1828-1901
We had no further adventure on the road, and early in the afternoon
arrived at Podgoritza, an ancient Servian city, much dilapidated and
very picturesque, taking lodgings at an inn kept by a Christian, a
rather creditable establishment but absolutely empty of guests. We
waited half an hour for the food and fire I ordered (for we were wet
and fasting), when my guide returned and said that there were no
lodgings there, but that the chief of police would provide us, and
that we were to accompany him to the police office. There we were
allowed to dry ourselves over a huge brazier full of glowing coals,
while the zapties cleaned out the adjoining room, a closet about ten
by fourteen feet, in which the dust of years lay accumulated and to
all appearance undisturbed. This was simply a cell in the police
prison, and there we ate what the _miralai_ saw fit to order for
us. Our passports were again examined and discussed, and we were
reëxamined as to our whence and whither and wherefore by the aid of
two or three Catholic Albanians of the vicinity, who did what they
could to find out if we had any secret business, professing to
be themselves the victims of the oppression of the Turks, and
sympathizing with us. They did not draw me, however, and I professed
no anxiety as to my treatment.
The miralai finally gave over his search for hostile motive in our
visit, and we discussed the programme for the morrow. I found that
there was a healthy fear of the Prince of Montenegro, for, when I
told him that the Prince's little steamer would be waiting for me at
Plamnitza the next day at noon, the whole circle broke out in wonder
if it could be true that the Prince took so much interest in us, for
if so, they must be prudent. We had the interesting advantage in that
Gosdanovich understood all that they said as they talked Serb to each
other, for they were a mixed company, and mostly of that race, and
they supposed that he was a Russian and I an Englishman, and that both
of us were ignorant of their language. If, they finally agreed, the
Prince of Montenegro would send his steamer for me, I must be a person
of greater distinction than they thought me, and they must be careful.
So the miralai called the chief of the zapties, and in our presence
gave him his charge, viz., to escort us to Plamnitza, leaving by early
light, and, if the steamer did not come for us, to bring us back to
the prison he took us from, and to kill us on the spot if we attempted
to escape. And so to sleep, as far as the crowing of many cocks
outside and the activity of multitudinous fleas within would permit;
and to make sure of us, we were locked in--fairly at last in a Turkish
prison.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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