Balkan Peninsula -- Description and travel; Turkey -- Politics and government -- 1878-1909
The Turks signed to us to keep our hands up. We could lift them no
higher so we stood on our toes--to show how willing we were to comply
with all suggestions. Then the brave man who had volunteered to take us
prisoners made a long détour and approached us from behind stealthily,
lest we should turn upon him suddenly and cast a bomb. I was made aware
of his arrival at my back by a thump in the spine with the muzzle of a
loaded and cocked rifle. The finger on the trigger was nervous--if it
was anything like its owner’s voice--and I dared not even tremble lest
the vibration should drop the hammer of his gun. I being thus in my
captor’s power, the other Turks approached. One unwound the long red
sash from his waist and with an end of it bound my hands. Meantime,
the Englishman had been surrounded, and two curly-bearded fellows,
gripping his hands tightly, dragged him to my side and bound his wrists
with the other end of the red sash. Our proud captor then seized the
centre of the sash, and, carefully avoiding our baggage, led us away
to the camp in exactly the same manner as he would have led a pair of
buffaloes, and the other soldiers followed, jabbering, at our heels.
Our captor’s tugging pulled the sash off my wrists, but I held on to
it and pretended I was still shackled, considering the fright it would
give the Turks to discover me mysteriously at liberty again.
We were kept but a few minutes at their camp, then taken through the
railway station, now deserted, across a road to the Turkish café where
the other passengers and the train crew were spending the night. It
was a peaceful spectacle we entered upon, but we soon disturbed the
composure of the Christians in the place. The train crew was stretched
out on the floor snoring lustily, and the passengers, because of their
race, sat on the tables, their feet folded under them, occupied in
sucking hookahs. Our dramatic entrance, on the ends of the red sash and
surrounded by ragged soldiers, did not distract the Mohamedans from
their hubble-bubbles, but the snoring ceased immediately.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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