The Rulers of the MediterraneanDavis, Richard Harding
History
The Rulers of the Mediterranean
Davis, Richard Harding
Mediterranean Region -- Description and travel
The first prison they showed us was the county jail, in which men are
placed for a month or more. It was dirty and uninteresting, and we
protested that it was not the one which the Bashaw had described, and
asked to be shown the one where the enemies of the government were
incarcerated. Colonel Mathews called back the Bashaw's soldiers, and we
went on to the larger prison immediately adjoining. Some time ago the
inmates of this made a break for liberty, and forced open the one door
which bars those inside from the outer world. The guards fired into the
mass of them, and the place shows where the bullets struck. To prevent a
repetition of this, three heavy bars were driven into the masonry around
the door, so close together that it is impossible for more than one man
to leave or enter the prison at one time even when the door is open. And
the opening is so small that to do this he must either crawl in on his
hands and knees, or lift himself up by the crossbar and swing himself
in feet foremost. It impressed me as a particularly embarrassing way to
make an entrance among a lot of people who meditated tearing you to
pieces. I pointed this out to the doctor, but he was determined, though
pale. So the guards swung the door in, and the first glimpse of a
Christian gentleman the prisoners had in ten years was a pair of yellow
riding-boots which shot into space, followed by a young man, and a
moment later by an elderly gentleman with a white tie. We made a
combined movement to the middle of the prison, which was lighted from
above by a square opening in the roof, protected by iron bars. This was
the only light in the place. All around the four sides of the patio or
court were rows of pillars supporting a portico, and back of these was a
second and outer corridor opening into the porticos, and so into the
patio. The whole place--patio, porticos, and outer corridor--was about
as big as the stage of a New York theatre. It was paved with dirt and
broken slabs, and littered with straw. There was no furniture of any
sort. With the exception of the sink upon which we stood, directly under
the opening in the roof, the place was in almost complete darkness,
although the sun was shining brilliantly outside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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