Chapter 13

Nor with this new pray (which was a sufficient witnesse of the captaine's farre and tedious travell towards the unknowen parts of the world, as did well appeare by this strange infidell, whose like was never seene, read, nor heard of before, and whose language was neither knowen nor understood of any), the sayd Captaine Frobisher returned homeward, and arrived in England in Harwich, the second of October following, and thence came to London, 1576, where he was highly commended by all men for his notable attempt, but specially for the great hope he brought of the passage to Cathaya.

_IV.--The Valiant Fight of the Content against some Spanish Ships_

Three ships of Sir George Carey made a notable fight against certaine Spanish galleys in the West Indies, and this is the relation of it.

The 13th of June, 1591, being Sunday, at five of the clock in the morning we descried six saile of the King of Spain, his ships. We met with them off the Cape de Corrientes, which standeth on the Island of Cuba. The sight of the foresayd ships made us joyfull, hoping that they should make our voyage. But as soon as they descryed us they made false fires one to another, and gathered their fleet together. We, therefore, at six of the clock in the morning, having made our prayers to Almighty God, prepared ourselves for the fight. We in the Content bare up with their vice-admiral, and (ranging along by his broadside aweather of him) gave him a volley of muskets and our great ordinance; then, coming up with another small ship ahead of the former, we hailed her in such sort that she payd roome.

Thus being in fight with the little ship, we saw a great smoke come from our admiral, and the Hopewel and Swallow, forsaking him with all the sailes they could make; whereupon, bearing up with our admiral (before we could come to him) we had both the small ships to windward of us, purposing (if we had not bene too hotte for them) to have layd us aboord.

Thus we were forced to stand to the northwards, the Hopewel and the Swallow not coming in all this while to ayde us, as they might easily have done. Two of their great ships and one of their small followed us. They having a loom gale (we being altogether becalmed) with both their great ships came up faire by us, shot at us, and on the sudden furled their sprit sailes and mainsailes, thinking that we could not escape them. Then falling to prayer, we shipped our oars that we might rowe to shore, and anker in shallow water, where their great ships could not come nie us, for other refuge we had none.

Then one of their small ships being manned from one of their great, and having a boat to rowe themselves in, shipped her oars likewise, and rowed after us, thinking with their small shot to have put us from our oars until the great ships might come up with us; but by the time she was within musket shot, the Lord of His mercie did send us a faire gale of wind at the north-west, off the shore, what time we stood to the east.

Afterward (commending our selves to Almightie God in prayer, and giving him thankes for the winde which he had sent us for our deliverance) we looked forth, and descryed two saile more to the offen; these we thought to have bene the Hopewel and the Swallow that had stoode in to ayde us; but it proved farre otherwise, for they were two of the king's gallies.

Then one of them came up, and (hayling of us whence our shippe was) a Portugall which we had with us, made them answere, that we were of the fleete of Terra Firma, and of Sivil; with that they bid us amaine English dogs, and came upon our quarter star-boord, and giving us five cast pieces out of her prowe they sought to lay us aboord; but we so galled them with our muskets that we put them from our quarter. Then they winding their gallie, came up into our sterne, and with the way that the gallie had, did so violently thrust into the boorde of our captaine's cabbin, that her nose came into its minding to give us all their prowe and so to sinke us. But we, being resolute, so plyed them with our small shot that they could have no time to discharge their great ordnance; and when they began to approch we heeved into them a ball of fire, and by that meanes put them off; whereupon they once again fell asterne of us, and gave us a prowe.

Then, having the second time put them off, we went to prayer, and sang the first part of the 25th Psalme, praysing God for our safe deliverance. This being done, we might see two gallies and a frigat, all three of them bending themselves together to encounter us; whereupon we (eftsoones commending our estate into the hands of God) armed ourselves, and resolved (for the honour of God, her majestie, and our countrey) to fight it out till the last man.

Then, shaking a pike of fire in defiance of the enemie, and weaving them amaine, we bad them come aboord; and an Englishman in the gallie made answer that they would come aboord presently. Our fight continued with the ships and with the gallies from seven of the clocke in the morning till eleven at night.

Howbeit God (which never faileth them that put their trust in Him) sent us a gale of winde about two of the clocke in the morning, at east-north-east, which was for the preventing of their crueltie and the saving of our lives. The next day being the fourteenth of June in the morning, we sawe all our adversaries to lee-ward of us; and they, espying us, chased us till ten of the clocke; and then, seeing they could not prevaile, gave us over.

Thus we give God most humble thankes for our safe deliverance from the cruell enemie, which hath beene more mightie by the Providence of God than any tongue can expresse; to whom bee all praise, honour, and glory, both now and ever, Amen.

A. W. KINGLAKE

Eothen

_I.--Through Servia to Constantinople_

Alexander William Kinglake, born near Taunton, England, Aug. 5, 1809, was the eldest son of William Kinglake, banker and solicitor, of Taunton. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge, where he was a friend of Tennyson and Thackeray. In 1835 he made the Eastern tour described in "Eothen [Greek, 'from the dawn'], or Traces of Travel Brought Home from the East," which was twice re-written before it appeared in 1844. It is more a record of personal impressions of the countries visited than an ordinary book of travel, and is distinguished for its refined style and delightful humour. Kinglake accompanied St. Arnaud and his army in the campaign which resulted in the conquest of Algiers for France. In 1854 he went to the Crimea with the British troops, met Lord Raglan, and stayed with the British commander until the opening of the siege of Sebastopol. At the request of Lady Raglan he wrote the famous history of the "Invasion of the Crimea," which appeared at intervals between 1863 and 1887. He died on January 2, 1891.

At Semlin I was still encompassed by the scenes and sounds of familiar life, yet whenever I chose to look southward I saw the Ottoman fortress--austere, and darkly impending high over the vale of the Danube--historic Belgrade. I had come to the end of wheel-going Europe, and now my eyes would see the splendour and havoc of the East. We managed the work of departure from Semlin with nearly as much solemnity as if we had been departing this life. The plague was supposed to be raging in the Ottoman Empire, and we were asked by our Semlin friends if we were perfectly certain that we had wound up all our affairs in Christendom.

We soon reached the southern bank in our row-boat, and were met by an invitation from the pasha to pay him a visit. In the course of an interesting interview, conducted with Oriental imagery by our dragoman, we informed the pasha that we were obliged for his hospitality and the horses he had promised for our journey to Constantinople, whereupon the pasha, standing up on his divan, said, "Proud are the sires and blessed are the dams of the horses that shall carry your excellency to the end of your prosperous journey."

Our party, consisting of my companion, Methley, our personal servants, interpreter, and escort, started from Belgrade, as usual, hours after the arranged time, and night had closed in as we entered the great Servian forest through which our road lay for more than a hundred miles. When we came out of the forest our road lay through scenes like those of an English park. There are few countries less infested by "lions in the path," in the shape of historic monuments, and therefore there were no perils. The only robbers we saw anything of had been long since dead and gone.

The poor fellows had been impaled upon high poles, and so propped up by the transverse spokes beneath them that their skeletons, clothed with some white, wax-like remains of flesh, still sat up lolling in the sunshine, and listlessly stared without eyes. After a fifteen days' journey we crossed the Golden Horn, and found shelter in Stamboul.

All the while I stayed at Constantinople the plague was prevailing. Its presence lent a mysterious and exciting, though not very pleasant, interest to my first knowledge of a great Oriental city. Europeans, during the prevalence of the plague, if they are forced to enter into the streets, will carefully avoid the touch of every human being they pass. The Moslem stalks on serenely, as though he were under the eye of his God, and were "equal to either fate."

In a steep street or a narrow alley you meet one of those coffin-shaped bundles of white linen which implies an Ottoman lady. She suddenly withdraws the yashmak, shines upon your heart and soul with all the pomp and might of her beauty. This dazzles your brain; she sees and exults; then with a sudden movement she lays her blushing fingers upon your arm and cries out, "Yumourdjak!" (plague), meaning, "There is a present of the plague for you." This is her notion of a witticism.

_II.--The Troad, Smyrna, and Cyprus_

While my companion, Methley, was recovering from illness contracted during our progress to Constantinople, I studied Turkish, and sated my eyes with the pomps of the city and its crowded waters. When capable of travelling, we determined to go to Troad together. Away from our people and our horses, we went loitering along the plains of Troy by the willowy banks of a stream which I could see was finding itself new channels from year to year, and flowed no longer in its ancient track. But I knew that the springs which fed it were high in Ida--the springs of Simois and Scamander. Methley reminded me that Homer himself had warned us of some such changes. The Greeks, in beginning their wall, had neglected the hecatombs due to the gods, and so, after the fall of Troy, Apollo turned the paths of the rivers that flow from Ida, and sent them flooding over the wall till all the beach was smooth and free from the unhallowed works of the Greeks.

After a journey of some days, we reached Smyrna, from which place private affairs obliged Methley to return to England. Smyrna may be called the chief town of the Greek race, against which you will be cautioned so carefully as soon as you touch the Levant. For myself, I love the race, in spite of their vices and their meannesses. I remember the blood that is in them. I sailed from Smyrna in the Amphitrite--a Greek brigantine which was confidently said to be bound for the coast of Smyrna. I knew enough of Greek navigation to be sure that our vessel should touch at many an isle before I set foot upon the Syrian coast. My patience was extremely useful to me, for the cruise altogether endured some forty days. We touched at Cyprus, whither the ship ran for shelter in half a gale of wind. A Greek of Limasol who hoisted his flag as English Vice-Consul insisted upon my accepting his hospitality. The family party went off very well. The mamma was shy at first, but she veiled the awkwardness she felt by affecting to scold her children, who had all of them immortal names. Every instant I was delighted by some such phrases as these: "Themistocles, my love, don't fight," "Alcibiades, can't you sit still?" "Socrates, put down the cup!" "Oh, fie! Aspasia, don't be naughty!"

The heathenish longing to visit the scene where for Pallas Athene "the hundred altars glowed with Arabian incense, and breathed with the fragrance of garlands ever fresh," found disenchantment when I spent the night in the cabin of a Greek priest--not a priest of the goddess, but of the Greek church--where there was but one room for man, priest, and beast. A few days after, our brigantine sailed for Beyrout.

At Beyrout I soon discovered that the standing topic of interest was the Lady Hester Stanhope, who lived in an old convent on the Lebanon range at a distance of a day's journey from the town, and was acknowledged as an inspired being by the people of the mountains, and as more than a prophet.

I visited Lady Hester in her dwelling-place, a broad, grey mass of irregular buildings on the summit of one of the many low hills of Lebanon. I was received by her ladyship's doctor, and apartments were set apart for myself and my party. After dinner the doctor conducted me to Miladi's chamber, where the lady prophetess received me standing up to the full of her majestic height, perfectly still and motionless until I had taken my appointed place, when she resumed her seat on a common European sofa.

Her ladyship addressed to me some inquiries respecting my family; and then the spirit of the prophetess kindled within her, and for hours and hours this wondrous white woman poured forth her speech, for the most part concerning sacred and profane mysteries. Now and again she adverted to the period when she exercised astonishing sway and authority over the wandering Bedouin tribes in the desert which lies between Damascus and Palmyra.

Lady Hester talked to me long and earnestly on the subject of religion, announcing that the Messiah was yet to come. She strived to impress me with the vanity and falseness of all European creeds, as well as with a sense of her own spiritual greatness. Throughout her conversation upon these high topics, she skilfully insinuated, without actually asserting, her heavenly rank.

_III.--Nazareth, Jordan, and the Dead Sea_

I crossed the plain of Esdraelon, and entered amongst the hills of beautiful Galilee. It was at sunset that my path brought me sharply round into the gorge of a little valley, and close upon a grey mass of dwellings that lay happily nestled in the lap of the mountain. It was Christian Nazareth.

Within the precincts of the Latin convent, in which I was quartered, there stands a great Catholic church, which encloses the sanctuary--the dwelling of the Blessed Virgin. This is a grotto, forming a little chapel, to which you descend by steps.

The attending friar led me down, all but silently, to the Virgin's home. Religion and gracious custom commanded me that I fall down loyally and kiss the rock that blessed Mary pressed. With a half-consciousness, a semblance of a thrilling hope that I was plunging deep into my first knowledge of some most holy mystery, or of some new, rapturous, and daring sin, I knelt and bowed down my face till I met the smooth rock with my lips.

One moment--my heart, or some old pagan demon within me, woke up, and fiercely bounded--my bosom was lifted and swam as though I had touched her warm robe. One moment--one more, and then--the fever had left me. I rose from my knees. I felt hopelessly sane. The mere world reappeared. My good old monk was there, dangling his keys with listless patience; and as he guided me from the church, and talked of the refectory and the coming repast, I listened to his words with some attention and pleasure.

Having engaged a young Nazarene as guide to Jerusalem, our party passed by Cana, and the house in which the water had been turned into wine, and came to the field in which our Saviour had rebuked the Scotch Sabbath-keepers of that period by suffering His disciples to pluck corn on the Sabbath day.

I rode over the ground on which the fainting multitude had been fed, and was shown some massive fragments--relics, I was told, of that wondrous banquet, now turned into stone. The petrifaction was most complete. I ascended the heights on which our Lord was standing when He wrought the miracle, and looked away eagerly eastward. There lay the Sea of Galilee, less stern than Wastwater, less fair than gentle Windermere, but still with the winning ways of an English lake. My mind, however, flew away from the historical associations of the place, and I thought of the mysterious desert which stretched from these grey hills to the gates of Bagdad.

I went on to Tiberias, and soon got afloat upon the water. In the evening I took up my quarters in the Catholic church. Tiberias is one of the four holy cities, the others being Jerusalem, Hebron, and Safet; and, according to the Talmud, it is from Tiberias, or its immediate neighbourhood, that the Messiah is to arise. Except at Jerusalem, never think of attempting to sleep in a "holy city."

After leaving Tiberias, we rode for some hours along the right bank of the Jordan till we came to an old Roman bridge which crossed the river. My Nazarene guide, riding ahead of the party, led on over the bridge. I knew that the true road to Jerusalem must be mainly by the right bank, but I supposed that my guide had crossed the bridge in order to avoid some bend in the river, and that he knew of a ford lower down by which we should regain the western bank. For two days we wandered, unable to find a ford across the swollen river, and at last the guide fell on his knees and confessed that he knew nothing of the country. Thrown upon my own resources, I concluded that the Dead Sea must be near, and in the afternoon I first caught sight of those waters of death which stretched deeply into the southern desert. Before me and all around as far as the eye could follow, blank hills piled high over hills, pale, yellow, and naked, walled up in her tomb for ever the dead and damned of Gomorrah.

The water is perfectly bright and clear, its taste detestable. My steps were reluctantly turned towards the north. On the west there flowed the impassable Jordan, on the east stood an endless range of barren mountains, on the south lay the desert sea. Suddenly there broke upon my ear the ludicrous bray of a living donkey. I followed the direction of the sound, and in a hollow came upon an Arab encampment. Through my Arab interpreter an arrangement was come to with the sheikh to carry my party and baggage in safety to the other bank of the river on condition that I should give him and his tribe a "teskeri," or written certificate of their good conduct, and some baksheish.

The passage was accomplished by means of a raft formed of inflated skins and small boughs cut from the banks of the river, and guided by Arabs swimming alongside. The horses and mules were thrown into the water and forced to swim over. We camped on the right side of the river for the night, and the Arabs were made most savagely happy by the tobacco with which I supplied them, and they spent the whole night in one smoking festival. I parted upon very good terms from this tribe, and in three hours gained Rihah, a village said to occupy the ancient site of Jericho. Some hours after sunset I reached the convent of Santa Saba.

_IV.--Jerusalem and Bethlehem_

The enthusiasm that had glowed, or seemed to glow, within me for one blessed moment when I knelt by the shrine of the Blessed Virgin at Nazareth was not rekindled at Jerusalem. In the stead of the solemn gloom, and a deep stillness which by right belonged to the Holy City, there was the hum and the bustle of active life. It was the "height of the season." The Easter ceremonies drew near, and pilgrims were flocking in from all quarters. The space fronting the church of the Holy Sepulchre becomes a kind of bazaar. I have never seen elsewhere in Asia so much commercial animation. When I entered the church I found a babel of worshippers. Greek, Roman, and Armenian priests were performing their different rites in various nooks, and crowds of disciples were rushing about in all directions--some laughing and talking, some begging, but most of them going about in a regular, methodical way to kiss the sanctified spots, speak the appointed syllables, and lay down their accustomed coins. They seemed to be not "working out," but "transacting" the great business of salvation.

The Holy Sepulchre is under the roof of this great church. It is a handsome tomb of oblong form, partly subterranean. You descend into the interior by a few steps, and there find an altar with burning tapers. When you have seen enough of it you feel, perhaps, weary of the busy crowd, and ask your dragoman whether there will be time before sunset to procure horses and take a ride to Mount Calvary.

"Mount Calvary, signor! It is upstairs--on the first floor!" In effect you ascend just thirteen steps, and then are shown the now golden sockets in which the crosses of our Lord and the two thieves were fixed.

The village of Bethlehem lies prettily couched on the slope of a hill. The sanctuary is a subterranean grotto, and is committed to the joint guardianship of the Romans, Greeks, and Armenians, who vie with each other in adorning it. Beneath an altar gorgeously decorated, and lit with everlasting fires, there stands the low slab of stone which marked the holy site of the Nativity, and near to this is a hollow scooped out of the living rock. Here the infant Jesus was laid. Near the spot of the Nativity is the rock against which the Blessed Virgin was leaning when she presented her babe to the adoring shepherds.

_V.--To Cairo and the Pyramids_

Gaza is upon the edge of the desert, to which it stands in the same relation as a seaport to the sea. It is there that you charter your camels, "the ships of the desert," and lay in your stores for the voyage. The agreement with the desert Arabs includes a safe conduct through their country as well as the hire of the camels. On the ninth day, without startling incident, I arrived at the capital of Egypt.

Cairo and the plague! During the whole time of my stay, the plague was so master of the city, and showed himself so staringly in every street and alley, that I can't now affect to dissociate the two ideas. I was the only European traveller in Cairo, and was provided with a house by one Osman Effendi, whose history was curious. He was a Scotchman born, and landed in Egypt as a drummer-boy with Mackenzie Fraser's force, taken prisoner, and offered the alternative of death or the Koran.