RECAPTURED

In the afternoon, we sewed together the two halves of the sail and cut a handle for our axe head so as to be as ready as possible in the event of discovering a boat. After making a stew from some beans we had gathered in a field on the hill that morning, we packed up and set off, full of hope and excitement. The question of going across to the wooded hill arose again when we got clear of the wood, but it was thrown out, and, bitterly did we regret it next day. Turning down to the shore, we crossed the road and, eventually, reached the beach just as it was getting dark. There were one or two small houses just on our right above the shingle, and we were reconnoitring carefully when a big rowing boat was seen coming along close to the beach, rowed by some eight men. It went a quarter of a mile further along, and the boat was then pulled up by the men and others who appeared from the houses. It was too dark to see what they were, but for some unknown reason we did not suspect that they were men of a guard at this place, or connect the houses with a place shown on one of our maps as being somewhere near here. We debated whether to go along the coast when it was quite dark and reconnoitre, or whether to wait for dawn. In any case, it seemed hopeless to think we could push off the boat which had just been pulled up: it was far too heavy and they had brought it up a long way. Finally, we decided to wait till dawn and then go along and see what we could find.

As soon as it began to get light next morning, August 23rd, we were up; our excitement was increased by seeing a small boat moored a little way from the beach. This had mast and sail and was just the size of boat we were hoping for. We crept quietly down to a track along the shingle. Sweet was in front and reported seeing a peasant near the first house. We walked quickly on finding that there were rather more tumble-down houses than we had expected. However, it was too early for people to be about and there seemed no reason to suspect danger. We were hurrying on towards the boat we had seen, when we passed the end of a tumble-down boat-house and, to our dismay, found a Turkish sentry standing just inside. He stopped Sweet, while we three hurried on a little further. Sweet told him we were Germans bound for Samsun, the next port along the coast. However, the old man insisted on telling his chaoush or sergeant. Meanwhile Sweet had rejoined us, but there was no chance of getting away, as by this time three or four others of the guard had turned out. The sergeant had us brought back to the guard-house, where the next scene of the pantomime began. Sweet, as had been previously arranged, was to play the part of a German officer, while we three were orderlies. Accordingly, we carried his pack for him, jumped up and down and saluted and, generally, behaved in a manner calculated to show our subservience. Meanwhile, the chaoush who was in charge of the guard at this place—a village called Kusafet—was evidently not at all sure of his ground, and suggested we should go with him to Jerse. We replied we were going in the opposite direction, and wanted a boat with which to reach Samsun. The boat which had been moored off the beach had now been brought to shore and was landing some stores for the guard. We spoke to the skipper of this boat and, finding he came from Trebizond and knew a little English, hoped he would be amenable to helping us. Our idea was that having got on board for Samsun we could persuade him for a consideration to take us on to Trebizond, which was in Russian hands.

He went upstairs to confer with the chaoush, but whether he gave us away or not we were never quite sure. He came down advising us to go to Jerse and see the commandant there. This man, he assured us, knew no English or German, and was very ignorant and would believe our story. The chaoush wanted to make us march to Jerse, but we refused and, eventually, set off in the boat under the escort of the chaoush and two other armed soldiers. Before leaving we had obtained some chapatties, and a little raw fish which was better eating than we had expected. On the way we suggested to the skipper that with the help of the crew we could easily overpower the guard and then set sail east; but he would not agree, and with the probability of the crew of five joining the guard we should have stood no chance at all. Hugging the coast, we reached Jerse in two hours, finding a small Turkish town built on a slight promontory. On the way, we passed the wooded hill we had talked about so often the day before. We should have been quite safe on this hill and, what was more, should have seen two or three boats in which we could probably have got away without much trouble. On reaching Jerse we found ourselves moored beside a small patrol boat of the Turkish navy, one of the crew of which said openly we were English. However, Sweet had gone ashore with the chaoush, and we were left hoping for the best, but fearing the game was up. Half an hour later we were summoned to join Sweet, and were conducted with him to a police station. Here Tip was made to speak on the 'phone to a German officer at Sinope. He could think of nothing to say but "Sprechen sie Deutsch," to which the Teuton eagerly responded at the other end. After shouting this down the 'phone several times Tip threw down the receiver, declaring it was out of order! Another man coming into the station declared he had seen two of us at Kastamuni. We were then taken to the commandant of the town and agreed it was useless to try to bluff any longer, since they believed us to be English spies and it was only a matter of getting hold of any German for our whole story to fall to the ground. We, therefore, admitted that we had escaped from Kastamuni, saying we had been so long prisoners that we wanted to get home. The commandant was one of the best types of Turkish officer it had been our fortune to meet and was most polite. We were searched, and our maps and compasses and diaries taken, except from K., who managed to smuggle his map through. My original compass, not being recognized as such, was not taken.

Sweet told us that on first landing he had seen the commandant of the local gendarmerie, whom he had no difficulty in bluffing, as the skipper had foretold. Sweet told him we were on our way to the Caucasus to help in preparing a coming offensive for the Turks. He took all this in and Sweet was congratulating himself that our troubles were over. After giving Sweet coffee he said, no doubt, we would now like to be going on our way to Samsun. Sweet agreed, and they were just coming back to rejoin us when the Yuzbashi mentioned that there was a colonel who was commandant of the town and that he would probably like to see Sweet before he left. The fat was then in the fire. Sweet proffered our passport, but the colonel was suspicious and a Turkish naval officer whom he called in confirmed his ideas that we were British. The colonel told us later that there were two mistakes in our passport, which otherwise he evidently thought was quite good. He had our names and had been warned of our escape some two or three days after we had left Kastamuni.

The yuzbashi, finding how thoroughly he had been bluffed, was now equally frantic in his wrath. We were said to be going off that day to Sinope, and he was already preparing to handcuff us together in pairs. Luckily, the colonel turned up in time to prevent this. Most of our money was now taken and a receipt given to us for it. A little later we were told we were not going that day and were given a better room in the police station. The chaoush was very pleased with himself and told us he was going to accompany us to Kastamuni. He, also, it appeared, had been warned of our escape and, having passed through Kastamuni recently, probably suspected us more quickly than he would otherwise have done. The colonel came in to see us, and endeavoured to find out as much as he could from us as to which way we had come and how we had got food, but we told him very little. We got some food sent in and finally lay down on the floor for the night. Tip was now suffering again from his previous complaint, and we insisted that a doctor should be brought. However, no one was forthcoming. Next morning we were allowed to go into the bazaar to buy a few things needful, and on our return were told to get ready to march at once. A small donkey was brought up and on this we loaded our kit.

Tip was still feeling very poorly and had a bad time on the march. After some eight miles, mostly along by the sea, we reached some Turkish barracks which had evidently been only recently put up. They were wooden buildings, but, fortunately, cleaner than might have been expected. We were put into a small corner room in the officers' quarters and were much amused to find that no less than three sentries were posted to guard us; one outside the door, and one outside each window.

The officers consisted of a fat and surly yuzbashi and an Arab lieutenant, a huge man who was most genial and friendly. He told us his home was near Mosul, but he refused to believe that the British were in Bagdad and evidently thought we were trying to bluff him, the ignorance pervading all classes in Turkey as to what is happening in the outside world being colossal.