CHAPTER I – IN THE BOSPORUS
The steamer had crossed the Sea of Marmora and entered the Bosporus. It was approaching Constantinople. On the right lay Asia, on the left Europe. Either shore was lined with beautiful mosques and palaces, the fairylike towers and minarets gleaming in the sunshine.
The deck was crowded with people eagerly gazing on the bewitching scene. From that point of view it was a land of enchantment, strange, mysterious, fascinating. Shipping from all quarters of the globe lay in the splendid harbor.
Among the crowd on deck were two boys who were making a European tour in charge of Professor Zenas Gunn, of the Fardale Military Academy, from which one of the students had been unjustly expelled. This was Dick Merriwell, the younger brother of the former great Yale athlete and scholar, Frank Merriwell.
With Dick was his chum and former roommate at Fardale, Bradley Buckhart, of Texas.
“What do you think of it, Brad?” asked Dick, placing a hand on the shoulder of his comrade, who was leaning on the rail and staring at the bewildering panorama.
Buckhart drew a deep breath.
“Pard,” he answered, “she beats my dreams a whole lot. I certain didn’t allow that the country of the ‘unspeakable Turk’ could be half as beautiful.”
“Wait until we get on shore before you form an opinion,” laughed Dick. “It certainly is beautiful from here, but I have reasons to believe that things will not seem so beautiful on closer inspection.”
“Then I opine I don’t care to land!” exclaimed Brad. “I’d like to remember her just as she looks now.”
“Hum! ha!” broke in another voice. “I don’t blame you, my boy. Isn’t she beautiful! Isn’t she wonderful! Isn’t she ravishing!”
“All of that, professor,” agreed the Texan.
Professor Gunn, who had joined them, readjusted his spectacles and thrust his hand into the bosom of his coat.
“I have admired her for a long time,” he declared. “In fact, ever since my eyes first beheld her intellectual and classic countenance. Her hair is a golden halo.”
“Eh?” grunted Buckhart, in surprise.
“Hair?” exclaimed Dick, puzzled.
“Her eyes are like limpid lakes,” continued Zenas.
“Eyes?” gasped both boys.
“Her mouth is a well of wisdom.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Dick.
“Her teeth,” went on the professor – “her teeth are pearls beyond price.”
“Is he daffy?” muttered the Texan.
“And her form has all the grace of a gazelle. She is a dream of enchantment. Every movement is a poem. I could worship her! I could spend my life at the feet of such a woman listening to the musical murmur of her heavenly voice.”
“Look here, professor,” said Dick, “what is the matter with you?”
“I’m enthralled, enchanted, enraptured by that woman.”
“What woman?”
“Why, the one we are talking about, Sarah Ann Ketchum, president of the Foreign Humanitarian Society, of Boston, Massachusetts. Who else could I be talking about?”
“Oh, murder!” exploded Brad. “Wouldn’t that freeze you some!”
Both boys laughed heartily, much to the displeasure of the professor.
“Such uncalled-for mirth is unseemly,” he declared. “I don’t like it. It offends me very much. Besides, she may see you laughing, and that would harrow her sensitive soul.”
“Professor, I didn’t think it of you!” said Dick, trying to check his merriment. “You are smashed on the lady from Boston – and you’re married. Have you forgotten that?”
“Alas, no! I can never forget it! But do not use such vulgar and offensive language. ‘Smashed!’ Shocking! You do not understand me. She is my ideal, my affinity, the soul of my soul! Yet I must worship her from afar; for, as you say, I am a married man. I have talked with her; I have heard the music of her voice; I have listened to the pearls of wisdom which dropped from her sweet lips. But I haven’t told her I am married. It wasn’t necessary. Even if I were to know her better, even if I were to become her friend, being a man of honor, that friendship would be purely platonic.”
“Rats!” said Brad. “You’re sure in a bad way, professor. Why, that old lady with the hatchet face would scare a dog into a fit.”
“Bradley!” exclaimed Zenas indignantly. “How dare you speak of Miss Ketchum in such a manner! She is a lofty-minded, angelic girl.”
“Girl!” gasped Dick. “Oh, professor! Girl! Oh, ha, ha, ha! She’s sixty if she’s a minute!”
“Sixty-five!” asserted Brad, slapping his thigh and joining in the merriment.
“Stop it!” spluttered the old pedagogue. “She’s looking this way now! She’ll see you laughing. She’s had trouble enough with that little, dried-up, old duffer from Mississippi, who has followed her about like a puppy dog.”
“You mean Major Mowbry Fitts?” said Dick.
“Fitts – that’s the man. They’re all majors or colonels down in Mississippi. He’s no more a major than I am a general.”
“But he’s a fire eater,” declared Dick. “He is a very dangerous man, professor, and you want to be careful. He’s fearfully jealous of Miss Ketchum, too. Followed her all the way from the United States, they say. I’ve seen him glaring at you in a manner that has caused my blood to run cold.”
“Let him glare! Who’s afraid of that withered runt! Why, I could take him over my knee and spank him. I’d enjoy doing it, too! What is he thinking of? How can he fancy such a superbly beautiful woman as Miss Ketchum could fancy him, even for a moment! Besides, he is a drinking man, and Miss Ketchum is a prohibitionist. She told me so herself.”
“Be careful that she doesn’t smell your breath after you take your medicine, professor,” advised Dick. “But I suppose there is no danger of that now, for the voyage is practically ended.”
“Yes,” sighed Zenas. “We soon must part, but I shall always carry her image in my heart.”
“This certain is the worst case I’ve struck in a long while,” said Brad.
“She comes!” breathed Zenas, in sudden excitement. “She comes this way! Behave yourselves, boys! Be young gentlemen. Don’t cause me to blush for your manners.”
Miss Sarah Ann Ketchum, tall, angular, and painfully plain, came stalking along the deck, peering through her gold-rimmed spectacles, which were perched on the extreme elevation of her camel-back nose.
“Steady, Brad!” warned Dick. “Keep your face straight.”
Miss Ketchum had her eye on the professor; he had his eye on her. She smiled and bowed; he doffed his hat and scraped. Like a prancing colt he advanced to meet her.
“Does not this panoramic spectacle of the Orient arouse within your innermost depths unspeakable emotions, both ecstatic and execrable, Professor Gunn?” asked the lady from Boston. “As you gaze on these shores can you not feel your quivering inner self writhing with the shocking realization of the innumerable excruciating horrors which have stained the shuddering years during which the power of the Turk has been supreme in this sanguine land? Do you not hear within the citadel of your soul a clarion call to duty?
“Are you not oppressed by an intense and all-controlling yearning to do something for the poor, downtrodden Armenians who have been mercilessly ground beneath the iron heel of these heartless hordes of the sultan? I know you do! I have seen it in your countenance, molded by noble and lofty thoughts and towering and exalted ambitions, which lift you to sublime heights far above the swarming multitudes of common earthy clay. Have I not stated your attitude on this stupendous subject to the infinitesimal fraction of a mathematical certainty, professor?”
“Indeed you have, Miss Ketchum!” exclaimed Zenas.
“Oh, wow!” gasped Buckhart, leaning weakly on the rail. “Did you hear that flow of hot air, Dick?”
“I did,” said Dick, concealing a smile behind his hand. “That sort of Bostonese has carried the old boy off his feet. Brad, the professor has lost his head over the lady from Boston, and it is up to you and me to rescue him from the peril that threatens him. He is in danger, and we must not falter.”
The steamer was swinging in to her mooring, but Professor Gunn was now too absorbed in Miss Ketchum and her talk to tell the boys anything about the two cities, that of the “Infidel” and that of the “Faithful,” which lay before them.
A man with a decidedly Oriental cast of countenance, but who wore English-made clothes, paused near the professor and Miss Ketchum, seemingly watching the boats which were swarming off to the steamer.
“Look, pard,” whispered Buckhart. “There’s the inquisitive gent who has bothered us so much – the one we found in our stateroom one day. He’s listening now to the professor and the Boston woman. I’ll bet my life on it.”
“I see him,” said Dick, yet without turning his head. “Brad, the man is spying on us.”
“I certain reckon so, and I’m a whole lot sorry we let him off without thumping him up when we found him in our stateroom.”
“He protested that he got in there by accident.”
“And lied like the Turk that he is!” muttered the Texan. “I’d give a whole bunch of steers to know what his name is.”
“He’s up to something. I found his name on the list of passengers.”
“What is it?”
“Aziz Achmet.”
“I knew he was an onery full-blooded Turk. His cognomen proves it.”
“He’s a subject of the sultan, beyond question. Something tells me we are going to have trouble with that man.”
“Well, he wants to lay his trail clear of mine,” growled Buckhart. “I’m getting a heap impatient with him, and I’ll be liable to do him damage if he provokes me further by his sneaking style.”
A little man with a very fierce, gray mustache and imperial came dodging hither and thither amid the passengers, caught sight of Miss Ketchum, hastened forward, doffed his military hat, and made a sweeping bow.
“Madam,” he said, “it will affo’d me great pleasure to see yo’ safely on shore.”
“My dear Major Fitts,” said Sarah Ann, “I am truly grateful for your gallant thoughtfulness. Professor, permit me to introduce you to Major Mowbry Fitts, of Natchez, Mississippi. Major, this is Professor Zenas Gunn, principal of Fardale Military Academy, a very famous school.”
“Haw!” said Professor Gunn, bowing stiffly.
“Ha!” said Major Fitts, in his most icy manner.
Then they glared at each other.
“Your solicitude for Miss Ketchum was quite needless, sir,” declared Zenas. “I am quite capable of looking out for her.”
“Suh, yo’ may relieve yo’self of any trouble, suh,” retorted the man from Natchez.
“I couldn’t think of it, sir, not for a moment, sir,” shot back the professor. “It might be trouble for you, sir, but it is a pleasure for me.”
“The old boy is there with the goods,” chuckled Brad.
But Major Fitts was not to be rebuffed in such a manner.
“Considering your age and your physical infirmities, suh,” he said, “I think Miss Ketchum will excuse yo’.”
That was too much for Zenas.
“My age, sir!” he rasped, lifting his cane. “Why, you antiquated old fossil, I’m ten years younger than you! My infirmities, sir! You rheumatic, malaria-sapped back number, I’m the picture of robust, bounding health beside you!”
“Gentlemen!” gasped Sarah Ann, in astonishment and dismay.
“Don’t yo’ dare threaten me with your cane, suh!” fumed the major. “If yo’ do, suh, I’ll take it away from yo’ and throw it overbo’d, and yo’ need it to suppo’t your tottering footsteps, suh.”
“I dare you to touch it, sir!” challenged the irascible old pedagogue, shaking the stick at the major’s nose.
Fitts made a grab, caught the cane, snatched it away, and sent it spinning overboard.
A moment later Zenas grappled with the man from Natchez, doing it so suddenly that the major was taken off his guard and sent flat upon his back on the deck, his assailant coming down heavily upon him.
Miss Ketchum screamed and fled.
In a moment Dick had the professor by the collar on one side while Brad grasped him by the collar on the other side. They dragged him off and stood him on his feet, although he vigorously objected and tried to maintain his hold on the other man.
“Here, here, professor!” exclaimed Merriwell; “you are disgracing yourself by your behavior.”
“He threw my cane overboard, the insolent, old, pug-faced sinner!” raged Zenas. “I’ll take its value out of his hide!”
The other passengers in the vicinity were looking on in mingled wonder and enjoyment, many of them being aware of the cause of the encounter between the two old chaps.
“See the kind of a scrape your foolish infatuation for the woman from Boston has led you into,” said Dick, in the ear of the professor. “Brace up! The passengers are laughing at you.”
Brad had assisted Major Fitts to rise. The little man was pale, and his eyes glared. He stood on his toes before Zenas, at whom he shook his fist, panting:
“Suh, this is not the end of this affair, suh! Give me your address in Constantinople, suh, that I may have a friend wait on yo’. This outrage shall be avenged in blood, suh!”
Dick was between them. He turned to the major.
“You have both made yourselves ridiculous,” he said. “It shall go no further. If you are not ashamed, I am ashamed for you.”
“I demand satisfaction!” palpitated Fitts. “I am from Mississippi, and no man can give me an insult and escape without meeting me in a duel.”
“The gentleman is quite right,” said the soft voice of Aziz Achmet, as the Turk stepped forward. “Under the circumstances the affair must be settled in a manner that will satisfy his wounded honor. If he needs a friend, I shall take pleasure in representing him.”
“Thank yo’, suh,” said the major. “I accept your generous offer, suh, and appreciate it.”
“Wants a duel, does he?” cried Zenas. “Well, he can’t frighten me that way! I’ll go him!”
“And I shall take great pleasure, suh, in shooting yo’ through the heart,” declared Fitts. “Yo’ will make the eleventh to my credit, suh.”
The mooring being completed, a great gang of men swarmed on board and took the steamer by storm. They were a struggling, snarling, shouting pack of Greeks, Armenians, Turks, Jews, and Italians, who literally fell on the bewildered passengers, as if seeking to rend them limb from limb. They raged, and shouted, and pushed, and in this confusion Dick and Brad managed to hustle the professor away, Fitts and Aziz Achmet being lost in the throng.
“Come now,” said Dick, “let’s get on shore in a hurry and see if we can’t keep clear of Major Mowbry Fitts, unless you are anxious to get yourself carved up or shot full of lead. He means business, and he really wants to fight you in a duel. You were in a nasty scrape, professor.”
“But my honor – ” began Zenas.
“Was satisfied when you floored him handsomely before all the passengers. Let it go at that.”
They found their baggage, and then Dick selected, amid the howling mass of human sharks, a fellow with a dirty red fez and a huge hooked nose.
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
“I spik all languages, Italian, Grek, Tergish, Yarman – ”
“That will do,” said the boy. “Here is our luggage. Look after it and get us into a boat.”
In some marvelous manner it was accomplished. They descended a ladder into a swaying boat, and their luggage followed them like magic. Then came the dragoman Merriwell had selected, and soon they were on their way to the shore.
“Thank fortune!” laughed Dick. “I hope we have seen the last of Aziz Achmet, Major Fitts, and Miss Sarah Ann Ketchum.”
CHAPTER II – IN PERSIA
When they reached the pier they found themselves confronted by several Turkish officers, who immediately began questioning them. Their passports were scrutinized doubtfully; and it began to appear that there would be a long delay, during which all their luggage would be overhauled and examined piece by piece.
Then Mustapha, the dragoman, whispered a word in Dick’s ear, and directly the boy slipped some money into the hand of one of the officers, whose manner toward them underwent a most surprising change, for he politely assured them that their baggage would not be opened and that there need not be the slightest delay. They were at liberty to leave the custom house at once and take their belongings with them.
Barely had they passed from the custom house when they suddenly found themselves surrounded, as it seemed, by people from all the tribes of the earth. This throng was made up of street venders who were peddling all sorts of goods, sugared figs, sandals, grapes, bread, clothes, and all of them shouting in a babel of tongues that was deafening and bewildering.
“Whoop!” cried Brad. “Talk about an Indian pow-wow! This beats it a mile! You hear me gurgle!”
When these peddlers would have charged on the Americans Mustapha warned them off and held them at bay, shooting violent remarks at them in a dozen different languages. With his aid they succeeded in passing through the thick of the throng without suffering physical violence.
“Well, I certain thought I was due to lose my scalp that go!” laughed the Texan. “Pard, you sure did a right good thing when you engaged this gent to pilot us. He knows his biz a plenty.”
“Richard,” said the professor, “I must compliment you on your acumen and discernment. It has aroused within my innermost depths unspeakable emotions of profound admiration which I am incompetent to adequately express – ”
“Hold on, professor!” cried Dick. “Leave that kind of gas to the lady from Boston, and talk in your usual sensible manner. Up to the present occasion you have been running things, but your encounter with Major Fitts left you in such a condition that I saw something had to be done, and so I tried my hand.”
“With flattering success, my boy – with flattering success. Why, young as you are, I believe you could get along anywhere – in any country or clime.”
“Thanks, professor. We’ll let it go at that.”
“What is that chap with the can and wooden mugs selling?” questioned Brad.
“That is a water seller,” exclaimed Zenas.
“Water? Wow! Is water so dear on this range that they can peddle it?”
“Water is the beverage of the Turk. He never touches intoxicants. Unspeakable he may be, but he has that virtue.”
“That may be true,” said Dick; “but he doesn’t keep his streets clean.”
In truth they had emerged into a labyrinth of dark, narrow, and filthy streets, all the charm of the place having disappeared as soon as they were fairly on land. The mosques and towers had vanished, and their surroundings were decidedly repellent. Everywhere was mud, and garbage, and dogs. Of the latter there seemed to be hundreds upon hundreds of every breed and description.
“They are the street cleaners,” explained the professor. “Here no one harms a dog, for if it were not for them the city would become too filthy for human beings to inhabit.”
“Well, I certain am not as much stuck on Constantinople as I was,” growled Brad.
“I must remind you,” said Zenas, “that there is really no such place as Constantinople. The European quarters of the city is called Pera, while the Moslem quarter is Stamboul.”
“Perhaps Brad isn’t stuck on it,” said Dick; “but I am. If this mud gets worse I shall be stuck on it to such an extent that I can’t perambulate. Look here, Mustapha, have we got to foot it all the way to our hotel?”
“No, effendi; we tak’ tram car, we tak’ horse – you choose.”
Even as he spoke they came to a street corner where several saddled horses were waiting, after the manner of cabs in an American city.
“Me to the broncho!” cried Brad.
“There is the tram car,” said Dick, with a motion.
The car was seen a short distance away, and the professor favored choosing that method of conveyance. Mustapha, however, for all that he had invited them make their choice, argued against it, explaining that half the car was reserved for ladies and that the other half was always crowded to suffocation.
Therefore they decided on the horses. Soon they were mounted and on their way up the long hill to Pera.
Although much of its beauty had vanished, the strange sights and sounds of the city keenly interested the American lads. They beheld people of many nationalities, yellow-coated Jews, with corkscrew curls, Bohemians, Nubians, Chinamen, Englishmen – all hastening on their various ways.
Pera proved to be a city quite modern in appearance, made up mostly of monotonous four-storied houses, new hotels, and shops filled with machine-made Oriental goods. The houses were flat-roofed and nearly all of them had balconies with cast-iron railings.
At last they arrived at their hotel, where they settled with Mustapha, who settled in turn with the owner of the horses.
“When I come next?” asked Mustapha. “You need interpriter dat spik lanquages well. I tak’ you all ofer efrywheres. You haf much troubles you try go ’thout good dragoman.”
By this time the professor had fully recovered, and he made arrangements with the dragoman, who then took his departure.
In the hotel they were turned over to a huge tattooed Nubian, his midnight blackness made more pronounced by the snow-white garments he wore. The Nubian conducted them to their rooms in the upper story, where their luggage was presently brought. Finding the rooms fairly satisfactory, with windows overlooking Pera, the Golden Horn, and giving them a view of the Turkish city beyond, they prepared to settle down and be satisfied.
First Dick took a long survey of the scene that could be beheld from the most advantageous window. From that point he could look away onto Galata and Stamboul, and again he was enchanted by the spectacle. The sun was shining on the palaces, mosques, and tall minarets, it was lighting the ripples of the Golden Horn, and over all was the superbly blue sky which defies the skill of the greatest artist.
Dick heaved a deep sigh.
“Strange that it all should seem so beautiful from a distance and that the beauty should so quickly vanish on close inspection,” he said. “In this case it is indeed true that ‘familiarity breeds contempt.’”
“That sure is right,” agreed Buckhart. “All the same, we’ll proceed to get familiar with it, I reckon.”
They next indulged in the luxury of a bath, taking turns, and all felt decidedly refreshed.
A call brought the Nubian, and they were informed that they could be served with anything they wished in their rooms, if they were willing to pay the extra charge.
After considerable discussion, they ordered a meal. There was sufficient delay to whet their appetites, and then the Nubian and an assistant reappeared, a table was spread, and they sat down to eat.
“A fried boot leg would taste good to me now,” declared the Texan. “That being the case, I reckon I’ll manage to get along on the fodder they supply here.”
But everything proved more than satisfactory. There was enough, and it was good.
During the meal the giant black man stood ready to wait on them. When not serving them, he folded his tattooed arms across his massive chest and regarded them steadily with his eyes. When they had finished the assistant reappeared, and the table and dishes were removed.
“I sure would hate to have that gent place his paws on me in violence,” observed Buckhart. “I opine he’s some powerful.”
“He looks like a Hercules,” said Dick.
“He made me extremely nervous,” confessed the professor. “I think I’ll inform the proprietor that we would much prefer having some one else attend us while we are here.”
“Don’t!” exclaimed Merriwell. “I rather fancy the Nubian.”
They lounged about for a time after eating, but finally the professor made an excuse to leave the boys, saying he would return soon.
“Pard,” chuckled Buckhart, when Zenas was gone, “the old boy did get a plenty smashed on the woman from Boston.”
“I’m glad we got him away from her – and from Major Fitts.”
“And I’m glad we won’t be bothered any more by that sneaking Turk, Aziz Achmet, who seemed spying on us. Wonder what Aziz took us for. I believe he was some sort of Turkish confidence man. He was a heap eager to act as Major Fitts’ second in a duel.”
“Think of Zenas Gunn in a duel!” exclaimed Dick, and they laughed heartily.
After a while Merriwell became worried over the professor’s protracted absence. Going to the door, he stepped outside.
He stepped into full view of two men, who were whispering in the shadows of a draped alcove.
One was the giant Nubian.
The other was Aziz Achmet, the mysterious Turk!
Bu va yana 2 ta kitob 399 UZS