Balkan Peninsula -- Description and travel; Turkey -- Politics and government -- 1878-1909
About midnight I awoke and wondered where I was. It gradually dawned
upon me that I was aboard a train, and I rose and looked out of the
window. Every light was out: they must have been extinguished from
above or we should have been discovered. I could discern, indistinctly,
in the faint light of a new moon, a waving line of high grass on both
sides of the train, and here and there a low, thick tree, but not a
house was visible. I woke the Englishman. Towards the city, usually
aglow with little lights from the water’s edge all the way up to the
wall on the hills, only a few dim lamps now shone. The gas main to
the town had been cut by the committajis the night before, and they
had also attempted, in their dynamite revel, to destroy a troop train
not far from the spot where ours now stood. We knew that the railways
were patrolled everywhere and doubly guarded in the vicinity of
Salonica, and there was little chance of our getting out of the train
without being seen. We also knew that the Turk is averse from taking
prisoners on any occasion, and naturally supposed that the deeds of the
dynamiters--for many of whom they were still hunting--had not tended to
lessen this Mohamedan characteristic. But to remain in the train and be
discovered in the small hours of the morning by some excited Asiatic
seemed a greater danger, and we decided to take to the open at once.
Whereupon we gathered our bags, quietly opened the door, jumped to the
ground and scurried through the high grass in the direction of the
town. Fortunately we escaped from the train without detection. But we
had gone hardly a hundred yards when a Turkish shout went up that was
both a challenge and an alarm. We saw the Turk who gave the yell, for
the moon was behind him, but I am sure he only heard us. He was near
a tent, and the first to respond to his call for assistance were his
companions from within. Six of them rolled out from under the canvas in
their clothes, rifles in hand, and in a minute more there were twenty
others by his side, all jabbering high Turkish. We had dropped our bags
at the challenge and thrown up our hands, but still they did not seem
to see us. They evidently thought we numbered forty--the usual size of
an insurgent band--and it took us some time to convince them that we
were only two Englishmen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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