THE CRIMEA AND HOME

At dawn on the fourth day, September 25th, the land was very clear and we could see a lofty headland which ran steeply down to the sea. An hour or two later, we could make out houses and then it became clear that we were approaching some seaside resort. All through the previous two days, after we had taken charge of the steering, the akhardash had continually inquired whether the "road" was "good" and they were now more than satisfied that we knew the best way over the sea. Fortune had been with us, in giving us fine weather and clear skies by day and night; otherwise we might have reached a very different destination. Rowing on steadily, it was soon clear that the place was quite extensive and probably much frequented. Several large buildings could be seen and something which looked like a pier or jetty, to which we now steered. It was not until one o'clock that we finally reached this spot and landed, to find ourselves opposite the baths.

For days we had talked of the delights of a good hot bath and now we had come straight to the very place. We were met by a Swiss who was bathing. He hurried off to dress, but before he could return we were accosted by several other people, notably a retired Russian general and an American diplomat who lent us clothes and escorted us to the baths. After getting really clean once more, we were taken to a pension and made the guests of the hospitable Russian ladies to whom it belonged. They told us the place was called Alupka and was one of the most popular seaside places in Russia. Meanwhile the akhardash had been escorted into the town. In the morning they had begun to don their bandoliers and handle their rifles, but we persuaded them that they would be looked upon in a more friendly manner on landing if they abandoned these weapons.

It had taken us 78 hours to cross the 180 miles of sea, but actually we must have sailed well over 200 miles. We found that, comparing our position on the third morning with the spot we had marked on the map, we were only some twenty miles out, which, as amateur navigators, we considered quite good work.

At the pension we were given lunch, and wine was produced in our honour by our new friends. We shall never forget their kindness, and the extraordinary feeling of being amongst all the amenities of civilization once more after two years under other conditions. In the afternoon, we were taken to the municipal office and there interviewed by a very business-like and intelligent lady who seemed to combine the duties of commissioner of police and most other municipal departments. Our friends told us that there was some difficulty in establishing our identity, since the commandant of the town—who a few months earlier before the Revolution had been an actor—was very suspicious and inclined to believe we were really Germans. In fact, some splendid stories were going about. According to one, a boat-load of Turks under the command of three German officers had attacked the town, one of the Germans being wounded. Tip had been to see a doctor and this no doubt lent colour to the idea. At all events, the commandant told off a sentry to shadow us about wherever we went.

The akhardash, we found, had been accommodated in the central police building, where they had been given plenty of food and seemed to be receiving visitors. We bought them some fruit and tried to cheer them up, as they had imagined they would be received with triumphal rejoicings and were somewhat crestfallen at being treated more like prisoners. Our first object was to get in touch with the nearest British consul, so as to put their case before him and get matters explained to the Russian authorities; but no one seemed to know where the nearest consul was to be found. We got telegrams sent off to our people at home addressed to the Embassy at Petrograd. It was hopeless at this time to try to get private telegrams through, and for mails from home we found they were even worse off here than we had been in Kastamuni. It was strange, indeed, being in a spick and span town, with well made roads and everything clean and up-to-date, after the filthy dilapidation which characterizes everything in connection with the Turk.

Some people we met seemed rather annoyed that we had not struck a mine, as they assured us there was a large minefield through which we had passed. We discovered, later, this was quite wrong, but in any case our boat was of much too shallow draft to be in much danger. Others told us that we were fortunate to land where we did, as had we gone a little further east we should have come to the estates of some of the Grand Dukes who at that time were interned under armed guards, with orders to prevent anyone approaching from land or sea! We were told that every one was on rations and that food was getting scarce. One of the most striking contrasts to Turkey was the magnificent fruit on sale, grapes, pears and peaches, all evidently cultivated with great skill.

As we emerged from our interview with the lady commissioner, we were summoned to halt in order to be cinematographed by the representatives of some Moscow firm. All the educated people we met in Russia were kindness itself to us and made our journey through the country very pleasant. It was pathetic to be asked, as we were, to tell people in England that not every one in Russia is bad and worthless. All classes, we found, had welcomed the Revolution when it started, thinking a new and brighter era had dawned; but it very soon became clear that the pendulum was swinging much too far in the other direction, and no one would dare to prophesy what might happen next. Fortunately for us, there was no actual internal fighting taking place at the time and we got through the country without trouble.

The following day we left Alupka by motor for Yalta, a port a little further east. The road led past some of the Grand Dukes' estates and Livadia, the Tsar's Crimean palace. The scenery all along was magnificent, the pine-clad hillsides sloping steeply down to the blue, with white houses or palaces. Yalta itself was one of the most charming spots it had been our good fortune to see, and is easily equal in beauty to any of the Riviera resorts. From here we were to travel by night by a transport back past Alupka, reaching Sevastopol on the following morning, but before leaving a surprise was in store for us. As we had some time to wait, we went into an hotel, with the officer conducting us, for tea. This, however, we found was the headquarters of the local committee of soldiers and workmen, and a few minutes later we were asked to go into their meeting hall to receive their congratulations. This promised to be rather awkward, as we knew no word of Russian; but fortunately a schoolmaster who knew French was introduced to us. As we entered the room, the soldiers and sailors present all clapped vigorously. There were about 30 or 40 present and it was necessary, as on every possible occasion in Russia, to shake hands all round. The schoolmaster then gave a harrowing account of our imprisonment in Turkey and told them how we had eventually escaped and reached Russia. He appeared to say that we had been manacled in chains and endured the worst possible fortune as prisoners. After a suitable expression of thanks conveyed through the schoolmaster, we shook hands again all round and returned to our tea. This was our only actual meeting with a revolutionary committee, and we are bound to say they seemed to have no love for the Turk or any wish to leave their Allies in the lurch by concluding a separate peace.

The transports steamed only at night and kept close into the coast for fear of possible submarines; so that the chances of our being picked up by one on our way over had been very remote.

The akhardash travelled with us to Sevastopol, and on arrival there we met the British Naval Representative, Commander Sage, R.N., who looked after us for the next few days. As he spoke Russian fluently and was in touch with all the highest authorities, we had no trouble of any sort. The akhardash were handed over to the Russian Staff authorities, who provided them with good quarters on a ship in the harbour. We three lived with Commander Sage on an auxiliary cruiser, the Almaz, which had previously been used as a private yacht by the Grand Dukes. The akhardash had for some time wished that we should all be photographed together and we, too, were anxious to have such mementoes of our time with them. The Russian Staff very kindly arranged it and we had two groups taken, one with our original rescuers with their rifles and bandoliers, and one with all the others included. Unfortunately Keor, the old Armenian, was ill in hospital and could not be present. As some days had elapsed before the photos were taken, our friends had obtained new clothing and hats and, therefore, did not present the picturesque appearance to which we had become accustomed. As regards some recompense for all their services, we could not get them to accept anything more than what they had spent on our food during all the time we were with them, but the Russians paid them the exact sum they had given for the boat, so that they were not out of pocket on that account. As souvenirs, they had given us each one of their long Caucasian daggers, and we in return got wrist watches for them and a suitably inscribed cigarette case for Bihgar Bey. We left them in good hands and have often wondered since what has been their fortune. No men could have acted more pluckily in rescuing us in the first place, or taken more trouble over our comfort and welfare during the weeks we spent with them in the hills and woods; and never shall we forget how much we owe them.

After some days in Sevastopol, we said good-bye to them and went round to Odessa on the Almaz, where we made arrangements with the British consul for our journey home. At Odessa we were entertained at a most convivial dinner by the British and American Club. Like all dinners in Russia, it proved prolific in speeches, a start being made with the King's health, in the middle of the fish course, by an enthusiastic American. From these speeches we learnt how whole-heartedly the great American nation had entered the struggle and the efforts they were making in Russia, more especially with regard to improving the railways. Coming out of the obscurity of Turkey, these things were new to us, although by reading between the lines of the Turkish papers we had been able to get a fair idea of the general position on the actual battle fronts. Another speaker told a pitiful story of the position in Rumania and of the appalling lack of medical stores and awful ravages of disease in the Army. A visit to the races and opera helped to pass two very enjoyable days before saying good-bye to Commander Sage and our new friends, and leaving for Mogileff, the then headquarters on the Russian front to which we had been summoned by the British Mission.

On our way we passed through Kieff, a magnificent town, peopled very largely by Poles. Here we met some forlorn British gunners who did not know what was to be their fate, but were soon, I trust, back in England. After a day in Mogileff we went on to Petrograd. Travelling even at this time was very comfortable on the Russian lines, for those with passes such as we possessed, except for the temperature of the carriages. In some it was impossible to open any window. The result was that we all got heavy colds, although during the past six weeks we had kept fit while sleeping out in the open and occasionally getting soaked through.

Petrograd was cold, wet, and dreary, and we spent our time in rushing about between the various departments before we could get passports and tickets through to Bergen. We, eventually, accomplished this by hard work in three days, and were then told we were fortunate not to have been kept at it for a week. It was necessary to borrow mufti to travel through Sweden and Norway. Clothes in Russia were practically unobtainable, but, fortunately for us, two naval officers at the Embassy came to our rescue by most generously giving us the necessary garments. We were also indebted to the Red Cross Depot at the Embassy for other assistance in the way of clothes.

Tip and I left on October 14th, and after an interesting trip through Sweden and Norway reached Aberdeen ten days later.

K., on the other hand, returned to the Black Sea. It had been hoped, and we had done our best to arrange, that an attempt should be made with the assistance of the akhardash to release some of the other officers at Kastamuni. Unfortunately this plan never materialized: for one thing our friends were moved further inland from Kastamuni before any attempt could be made, and when everything was settled on our side the Bolshevik rising had commenced and brought all plans to a standstill. K. reached England two months later, after having made a trip over to the Turkish coast in a Russian destroyer, and worked in every conceivable way to bring off the scheme for the rescue of the other officers. His persistent but unsuccessful efforts bring the account of our adventures to a close.