The Cable Game: The Adventures of an American Press-Boat in Turkish Waters During the Russian Revolution — John Shaqi
The Cable Game: The Adventures of an American Press-Boat in Turkish Waters During the Russian RevolutionWashburn, Stanley
History
The Cable Game: The Adventures of an American Press-Boat in Turkish Waters During the Russian Revolution
Washburn, Stanley
Black Sea -- Description and travel; Russia -- History -- Nicholas II, 1894-1917
three weeks has been an anxious candidate for a staff position. Since
it is Russia, the Jap is obviously impossible. You tell him so, and he
shuffles his feet as he hears the ultimatum, for he had hoped for a
trip to Europe. But one man’s meat is another man’s poison, for while
the mournful Ikezwap backed up for the last time, the beaming Ethiopian
grinned from ear to ear as he rushed to his quarters to throw together
his own small belongings.
A few hours sufficed to pack all my effects which, when mobilized,
comprised fourteen pieces of impedimenta. The theory is that a war
correspondent must move from place to place prepared at any moment to
adjust himself to any situation, from a war assignment, revolution or
riot, down to the meeting socially of a foreign ambassador. Hence these
fourteen pieces, which sound excessive, contained everything from a
frock coat and a high hat down to a kitchen camp stove. Saddles, tents,
campaign outfits of various kinds take up much room, but are really
worth the bother, for when one wants them, that want is a demand that
money often cannot meet. One’s own saddle on a hurry call that may mean
days of riding is in itself an asset beyond comparison. It may mean all
the difference between success and failure. One knows just what one can
do with an outfit tried and true, and hence it is worth while lugging
it about the world, even if it is used but once or twice.
A few days later saw me and my grinning Ethiopian disembarked on the
Bund at Shanghai. The place looked familiar enough, for I had spent
weeks there, and this was my fifth visit. Every time I left I felt that
I had made a distinct addition to my information as to the wickedness
of the world, and every time the desire rested heavily on my mind to
write a story about this cosmopolitan mushroom on the China coast, but
each time I held my hand as I realized that fate might well bring me
back to it, but now that Shanghai is some ten thousand miles away, and
the chances of seeing the people who might read such a story remote, I
feel that I cannot pass it over without a few comments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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