CHAPTER XIV DISCOVERY OF THE LETTER--BRUSA--COURT-MARTIAL--LIFE IN A STAMBOUL PRISON--POLITICS AND INTRIGUE

On the day following this, extra sentries were put on us, and all privileges stopped. Nothing was known, but it appeared that Fauad was suspicious, and had probably informed the captain of the guard. He was more importunate than ever for money. The crisis was precipitated by our discovery that he had appropriated large sums of money for cheques given to him by other officers. He said that the censor had become impatient, and that he had had to be paid with this money. I got Fauad to come to our room. I proposed to buy the letter off him, as it was stamped. He first swore that he had the letter, and on our producing the money, some only of which we wanted to give him, he started to blackmail us by refusing to say where the letter was until he got the whole sum. It ended up by me closing the door and saying I wanted the letter and proposed to take it. He was a tall but sloppily built fellow, and after a straight one on the point of his chin I back-twisted him over the iron bed. We searched him, but found nothing. It was at this point when he said the letter was known about, and when it seemed he would betray us in any case, that another officer caught him by the throat. But he managed one wild yell, which brought up the sentries. I was marched off with fixed bayonets for about the tenth time in my career as a prisoner of war, but had time to hand my pocket-book and papers to a friend before this happened.

The commandant kept me waiting a long time, and, of course, the letter was produced, but not a word was known of the escape. I believe they sent urgent telegrams to the mouth of the Bosphorus police, so that if we had actually got away to the Dardanelles, fortune would have assisted us with an extraordinary false scent. In the meantime, the commandant's wrath was terrific, in fact, as I explained to him, it was rather unnatural, seeing he had once said he would adopt me as his nephew. But, alas, he was beyond a joke.

I was remanded under a heavy guard, who inspected me about every five minutes, so that work at the hole had to cease, and two nights after, we were carpeted before a Court of Inquiry consisting of the commandant, another officer, and some one from headquarters. As we didn't know whether the letter actually existed now, there was no point in saying much. But the colonel, when asked why he wanted to go out, said "Pour une nuit joyeuse," comprising, presumably, a dinner at the Tokatlion and a fairy row on the Bosphorus. His countenance, however, and mine also, fell when the commandant produced the letter, all about our roubles and lifebelts, and the way to Russia. But when the commandant jeered at the colonel as being too old and past his prime for such undertakings, I laughed out aloud, for on our actual show, so far as physical serviceability went, the colonel was worth about six of us.

At the inquiry the others left the affairs to me. The net result was that by evasive answers and careful admission we were able, while sticking completely to the truth, to save the escape from being divulged. At the beginning of the inquiry we thought they had found out from Castell, who, we were informed, was under arrest. Our fears were allayed and our cautions justified when it turned out that nothing was known.

One was amused at hearing the old commandant's boast about his having made it too difficult for us to get out.

"Why didn't you start?"

"We did not start for the Black Sea because you had got our letter of plans, and then it was difficult with our sentries," etc., etc. So I replied.

Masses of documents were compiled. The colonel was twitted about one so senior as he being led astray by me! And I was locked up.

I had only got one message away, about trying to establish a hiding-place, and I feared I would be sent away now to camp. The others, after several false starts, left one night in a hurry with a heavy guard for Afion Kara Hissar, the camp away back near Konia. Col. Newcombe and I had patched up all sorts of schemes in the meantime. The difficulty now was how to communicate with him. One good scheme was by intercepting letters arriving from England for him after he had left, and adding words. In fact, more than once I took such a letter and extracting a bill, sent on news from England and from myself, which practice became general.

A week later I was, to my great delight, examined by a doctor for my spine—a concession due to the kindness of the commandant, whom I played to across the road one or two tunes he had informed me he liked.

One had to bank on there still being a soft place in his heart for me. But he resolutely refused to see me. I wrote him, saying he couldn't be more angry if I had got away; yet, here I was, and might I not be allowed to stay in Psamatia—my parole, of course, being impossible. I got no answer, but to my delight he followed Dr. KÖnig's recommendations for me to go to the baths at Brusa, the Generals' camp, the reason he gave being that my former General (G. B. Smith) had no A.D.C., and I might join him. I was paid up to date (Gelal was an excellent fellow in this way) and in the early twilight, one snowy morning, with my sad little bundle of baggage in front on a donkey cart, I set out with a heavy guard, who watched me every second. My guard had evidently had terrific orders, but I managed to implicate them into a fray with some German soldiers, who didn't understand Turkish or that I was a prisoner. One of them gave me a Tageblatt, which I returned during the fight with a letter inside for the Dutch Embassy, containing news as to my departure. This I hoped would let every one concerned know at once where I was off to.

The steamer trip was wonderful after so many years away from a ship. I watched a German officer and a rather pretty German girl on board. They were quite polite, drank beer marked MÜnchener, and talked about friends on different fronts. It was roughish weather. We got to Panderma about 3 p.m., caught a tiny train that wound over pretty, undulating country for twenty miles, bringing us nearer and nearer to the snowy heights of Olympus. One and a half hours later I was put in a gharry (quel luxe!) and taken to the commandant, a youngish Mir Ali, who spoke a little French and tried to appear kind. Our entente cordiale progressed considerably, he pointing out how he loved all his generals and other prisoners, and how they loved him, and how I must also get to deserve his affection, as he put it. He said we were all free, had a posta each—I already saw myself near Olympus, making a bee-line for the coast—and then he opened my confidential report from Gelal. The commandant's jaw fell, and he got black with rage at having taken me, as he said, for a bon garÇon. I was, it seemed, a horrible "escape officer," and had come to stir up his flock to revolt, etc., etc. I should go to the bath only once a week, and not enjoy any privileges or walks, etc. Knowing the Turk by this time, and seeing much hope ahead, I said little. The generals were in what had been a hotel, and were divided into several messes. They had a garden in front of the house.

Captain Goldfrap, whom I remembered from Kut, came to take me up to General Delamain, who was kinder to me than I can say. He gave me dinner and some cognac. I was half frozen with the snow. I noticed that his first questions were about his officers and men. The generals had been cut off for long from all the rest of the Kut force, and I enlightened them considerably. General Evans, made a brigadier in the last days of Kut, was still as cynical as ever. On this first night of comparative comfort, I also talked to Major Hibbert, whom I had had a little to do with when on General Smith's Staff. They were all very, very kind to me. I didn't say a word about escaping just yet. General Delamain talked to me quite a long time after the others had gone. He was as cool and unruffled as ever, and weighed the political news I gave him very carefully. He was very much more au courant than most officers through having read German literature "on the passing show."

I rigged up a bed and slept. In the early hours of the dawn I felt more peace than I had had for years. Snow was still falling. I was very much impressed with every one's kindness to me, a subaltern, and, knowing how hard up they all were, decided to go on my own so far as possible. As I lay in bed shivering with cold, I found a figure rattling tea-things beside me. It was Namatullah, the faithful Mohammedan servant of General Smith, who had heard I was back. He was always the best of servants, and his delight at seeing me was a rare treat. Later I got a servant to myself from the camp. The escape got abroad the next day, when orders came that I was not allowed to go out. But the generals one at a time took me for walks, or went bail for me.

Life here was more possible. They had books and papers not so very old. They had had over two years of uninterrupted study, and were very proficient in acquired languages. General Melliss I thought more aged than the rest. His captivity sat heavily upon him. He also was extremely kind to me, in fact, I might say that one of the most wonderful experiences of my many and varied phases of captivity was meeting these senior officers of our army in captivity. More than ever I saw deep into those traditions of the old British Army, where efficiency, quietness, and comradeship took first place. I felt that for these men captivity was even more serious than for me, for, although their careers were more or less perfected and mine broken off sharply at its beginning, still they had so much less time left.

I am writing this part in Brusa, some little time after, and want to give first place to this important record. I am tempted to remark with Stevenson on the glories of old age. Youth is uncharitable to youth, so coltish and impatient with shortcomings, and so infinitely borable. My whole experience of captivity showed nothing to equal the brave resignation of these Christian men at Brusa, "their kindness and forbearance, their oversight of imperfections." And I had had the privilege of seeing their brigades in action, and knew them one and all by common report for men who would have had their own armies to command if they had been spared by fate for France. I only hope that if ever anything of all this is published they will not take amiss anything written herein.

Later.—Most of the notes of my life in Brusa have been lost. I must only record the gradual relaxation of my restrictions, and my earning, by good behaviour (!), the right to my own posta, who took me through the sights of old Brusa—for this was the former capital—to the Green Mosque, and sometimes away to the near foothills. Brusa is a smiling valley. The high-road was forbidden, and it was only when we got a new posta that we could go there.

I discovered most excellent companions in Major Hibbert and Captain Goldfrap, who sometimes walked with me, and were most strenuous workers at languages. General Hamilton sometimes gave me tea and talked India and history, and General Smith talked chiefly fishing. He seemed much restored by his captivity, and walked at a tremendous pace. General Delamain I discovered was a chess player, and many were the excellent games we played together. He was very much stronger than I, but I improved, and managed to win about one in three later on, Queen's Pawn Opening being the only one that he ever succumbed to. We had frequent talks on politics and travel. He has many points of contact outside his profession, and is most exceptionally well read in foreign politics and international movements. On occasion at the football field I was sometimes privileged to discuss with him the larger game of chess that seemed to promise to pass from an apparent stalemate to decisive results. The collapse of Russia was now more than ever apparent. It was the fourth week of March, 1918.

I had got to know Brusa fairly well by now with a view to politics, and had sounded many of the prominent Turks there. It was seething with sedition and readiness for revolt.

Suddenly two pieces of news arrived simultaneously. Without notice I was ordered to Stamboul under a heavy guard, being told I was probably to be exchanged....

And a heavy barrage of artillery had begun in France.

After dinner General Delamain took me into his room. We had some Brusa wine and a long talk. He pointed to the paper, and said he believed the beginning of the supreme test had arrived. Facts following on this showed how right his judgment was. He was most kind, and offered to lend me money, for which I thanked him sincerely, but said I had enough.

In fact, I told him I expected to be up either for a court-martial or else to be going home. We had a pleasant evening, and he wished me all luck.

General Melliss also gave me a tin bath and some good advice. I collected orders for articles wanted for when, if ever, I should return, and left at dawn.

The journey I made under a most undesirable character, called Mohammed Ali, a Turkish subaltern, thoroughly dishonest and treacherous, and a bully. We soon came to loggerheads, as I realized I would get no privileges from him except what I took. I was driven to the Brusa station in his gharry, for which he made me pay two liras. When we got to Modarnia I had to wait an age on the roadside in a biting wind. This, I remember, set my neuralgia going severely in my back. It was necessary to wait, he said, while he bargained for various hens and a lamb, which he proposed to turn over at a profit at Stamboul. Then, when I went for a meal to an exorbitant Greek, he wanted to stop my ordering from the waiter, even through him, and proposed to decide what I should eat, and this, when he proceeded on the usual presumption that I would pay for him. We did this on occasion, but the regular thing into which this custom had grown was often exploited against us. He ran up a huge bill of about two liras, which he was so certain of my paying that he started bullying beforehand. His face, when I didn't pay, was a study for Mr. Punch's artist.

The sea ran high and our boat left before we arrived. I hoped for many things if we could wait that night in Modernia, what with communications and plans useful in case I returned to Brusa. No one had ever stopped there. As bad luck had it, a terrible little produce boat turned up late in the evening, and, with many cattle and sheep and hens, we crouched down from the wind. It was the third week in March, and at this season the Marmora can be very rough.

White horses raced by, and cold spray dashed over us. Except in the sun it was almost freezing. We called at two or three little ports. The weather grew worse, and every one was seasick, including Mohammed Ali. It was a race as to who would be sick first. He eyed me helplessly. And, of course, no sooner had he been sick two minutes than I had a letter or two off. I felt sick, but was not actually so, and tried to hide it. Later, I was allowed into the captain's wheelhouse, and sat down. The sea was very rough, and got so bad that we had to lay to all night off an island, where we tossed and tossed. All the Turkish peasants, men and women, went through their toilet in the dark, and what with men smoking, women being seasick, and children—dozens of babies bawling their heads off—I had plenty of entertainment. I paid a lira for a place to stretch my legs and, later on, slept. Before morning I had appropriated a fat peasant for a pillow, in discovering which at dawn he was so honoured that he gave me some cigarettes. Here Mohammed Ali butted in and kicked him. However, I gave my place to him to finish my lira's worth, and at this Mohammed Ali became nearly mad with annoyance. During the previous day the cattle had stampeded from side to side, and as the boat heaved one went overboard, but was recovered. One was lost for good. More than once, when the tiny top deck was deserted except for my guard and myself, Ali edged away from the heaving side and eyed me most furtively. I saw what he was thinking of. I laughed, and caught hold of him, and he squealed and had his posta brought up. I informed them both that they must be careful, as the boat was rocking and the sea was rough and that one cow had gone overboard!

The next morning we awoke to a magnificent dawn, and all was still. Across a silver, warm, and sunny sea we cut a gleaming path towards Stamboul. Land was scarcely in sight, and I was alone with the sea. Things deep down within one stirred with a sympathy now long grown old.... The sea and destiny and the secrets ahead of us, known only to these both.... Here was I, returning to Stamboul either to the wonderful far-away world that lay before April 29th, 1916, or to prison. I knew not which.

At about 3 p.m. the minarets of Stamboul stood out of a glorious afternoon sky. I saw the scene of our adventure, and soon was ashore once more by Galata Bridge.

Here I found a whole posse of police to escort me, and began to realize I was not going back to London!

On shore I found the most indescribable bustling in the streets, and newspapers and bulletins were being bought everywhere. My guard, and, in fact, several people, shouted out to me as we went on, that England was "biti" (finished), that our French front had collapsed, and we had lost 40,000 in prisoners alone. This increased my guards' excitement so much that they walked at a fearful pace, and I told them that when their news was bad they went slowly, and when good they ran. This steadied them, and we clinked along over familiar streets, and I expected to be going to Psamatia again, but, instead, I was left with my guard outside the Ministry of War, in the large square known as Serasquerat, in the centre of which stood a very old tower, Yargun Kuhle. Here, after some delay, I was sent into a room, and some insolent Turkish officers gave contradictory orders. My kit was burst open and searched, and anything like a knife or matches, or razor, or even the commonest utensils such as a fork, were all taken from me, together with any written matter or books. Then I had another long wait in the central hall, while Staff officers came and went, all talking about the great news.

I was dead tired and hungry, having eaten only an egg and some bread since leaving Brusa, thirty-six hours before. My back gave such trouble I could hardly sit up straight. Ultimately I was taken to a building called the Marhbesana, a gaol where military and civil offenders languished and died. I had heard a lot about the place. Four British officers had been in it and one had died there. It was half full of Armenians, who were spared until they divulged where their money was, or of officers put on one side by Enver, and of scapegoats, a few of whom, no doubt, deserved being there—excluding myself. I went along hard stone passages to a fellow called Djemal Bey, acting commandant of the gaol, who wouldn't say anything about me, why I was there, or what I had to do. I grew very tired and impatient at another long wait of over an hour, standing up. Then I was put into a room with an old Arab and a dishonest-looking civilian Turk, and a renegade Egyptian. I was to be left here "a moment," so my escort said, as he went away, but the door was barred, and I realized that I was a prisoner in this wretched tiny dark room, with a window looking out on the passage and an appalling lavatory place opposite. A heavy guard on the door paced ceaselessly to and fro, and had strict orders about me. I was not to be allowed anything.

The Egyptian actually made me a cup of coffee. He was a cross-eyed sort of chicken-and-egg lad one sees in Port Said, but I preferred him to the rascally Turk, who was from Rumania, a clerk fellow, who called me Herr Leutnant, and, when he wanted anything, Herr Hauptmann. Shouting and roaring went on between these people. I got a sort of tiny wooden frame down and tried to sleep. One couldn't walk or move about while the others were there, for want of room. The Arab was evidently a man of some position from Aleppo. He proved a fanatic, and prayed every half-hour on his mat, working his lips the while. He had all the fervour of the fanatic, and when he prayed his eyes assumed a Berserk look. I discovered him to be an old rascal, none the less. He gave me a little of his soup (gaol stuff), and then helped himself to some sugar and tea which I had brought in my pocket against emergencies. No one came near us with food all that day. I commenced to roar lustily through the bars. After some hours of this a man appeared the following day with some soup and bread at least twenty-four hours after I had arrived. My companions now laughed, and said I was to be court-martialled, and the old Arab, who seemed friendly with the guard, told me they had decided to try me for escaping, for sending letters home about Stamboul, and that they had got letters back from some "big men" in London to me which proved I had done so. At this I felt more resigned.

The Arab then commenced in all sorts of ways to sound me about helping him. He wanted a large sum of money to let loose a conspiracy, something about killing the Sultan, Enver, and a few more. It was very difficult to talk with him, as I didn't know Arabic and he didn't know Turkish, and he would only trust one old inaccessible man, who spoke French, to translate. The scheme set me thinking. That it was partly a feeler I had no doubt, but I began to glean direct intelligence of many matters of intrigue in Turkey.

All the elaborate caution of the East this old Arab showed when we talked together, pretending he was discussing food, and we had often to wait for hours until the others were asleep. This was March 27th, my birthday, and a terrible one it was. I felt very unwell. There was no food. I had no access to any one to ask for food, and my polite notes to the commandant were ignored. I managed to get a paper, and the news from France was bad. The German offensive was sweeping everything before it.

My guards and gaol companions amused themselves by showing literally how Germany was now walking over the French and us. I, however, awaited the counter-offensive, if we were not too broken, and, in any case, the moment when the German advance must be outdistanced owing to the elaborate communications required for pushing on the great masses of men and materials of modern war. It was a most miserable birthday, but in the evening we had a side show, which I encouraged. The Turk slammed a door on the Egyptian's heel, and then, in a second, the latter, who had been very forbearing, was at his throat with one hand and tried to brain him with an iron off the bed with the other. The Turk produced a knife. They fought, and knocked over the table. The old Arab came in to separate them, and got embroiled himself.

When the show was at its height and the guard came in, I stepped out and got a note on to a shelf in the washing-place. This was for a poor little subaltern of the R.A.F., who had been hauled into a room near mine, only he had some air and a good view of the Bosphorus. Thus correspondence started. I had had it ready, and when all the doors opened to see the fun I shouted a word to him. We exchanged notes in this way, although it took a long time for him to find the place. We exchanged money and other things.

The fight being over, our commandant came in. He thought I had had a hand in it, but the guard was loyal. I asked for a cell for myself. He was an inconsiderate beast, so I quoted the privileges of officers in captivity, and objected to being with an Arab and a Turk. The latter was eventually removed. Life went on. The plot of the Arab proved very subtle. He wanted an aeroplane to fly with gold into Turkey, and his party would meet it at a certain place, and then presto! up would go any building or bridge we liked. I found out the two sides to the Arab movement, the coterie round Enver, the Armenian gambit, the German supervision, and the extreme precariousness of Telaat's position as Grand Vizier. The movement was quite widespread throughout Turkey, but it all seemed so futile and nebulous. There was no head, and corruption was on every hand. Three or four days afterwards, I saw Gardiner's face around the passage beckoning violently to me. With him here it was now apparent what we were up for.

I got in touch with him by notes, and a day or so afterwards I was taken from my appalling room and put into his, a fine, large room, along a side alley and overlooking a courtyard with huge iron railings, but with a most magnificent view of Stamboul beneath us. It was a distinct change from the terrible place I had been in.

Beneath us was another storey where the worst criminals were confined. Their lot must have been terrible. The tops only of their cell windows were above the ground.

Gardiner had been hauled away from camp at Afion Kara Hissar for "escaping." This was all he knew. He had come to prison about ten days after I had, and had had a much better time. He had made some arrangement for getting food outside by sending out a posta and giving heavy backsheesh.

Then, days later, we got the Kivas from the Dutch Embassy to visit us. He brought Yarmouth bloaters and tea and clothes. One day I bought a tin of cocoa, for which I paid £8 10s. After a few more days the commandant sent for me, and said an officer, who was interested in me, would like to talk.

I found a very polite Turk in naval uniform, who was evidently out for news. I remembered having seen him with Germans on occasions. What did I think of Stamboul, of its beauties, of its buildings, of its future after the war? He gave me news from the Western Front, and let me see the papers, as the tide of war just then was much against us. Had I seen Enver in Berlin? (They had evidently been reading some of my letters, including some intended deliberately for them.) Who was Earl Grey, was George Lloyd related to Lloyd George, and was Fitzmaurice—a secretary to the British Embassy before the war—in position in London? I merely told him that I had only just commenced to get food, after being neglected for some days, and if he would get me permission to have a bath I would be glad and happy to help him waste as little of his valuable time as possible.

This he did, and I was allowed to a bath—not my old one, worse luck!—close to the gaol. I also got a doctor to verify my former report to Dr. KÖnig that I needed baths, and there I hoped to begin planning again. On the promise of a consideration of these things, we talked hard. I told him I recognized he was out for news, of which I had none; but that, in other words, I was certain that unless Turkey made a separate peace she would have small say in any peace, as Germany would decide that for her. If she was for a separate peace, the time was now, before the counter-offensive began. I found out a good deal about the German hold on Turkey. With considerable cunning, the Commandant Djemal later confirmed my suspicions that the Turks, with all the capacity for intrigue for which they are famous, wanted to get in direct touch with England just to verify German accounts, and a strong party in the Turkish Cabinet was for this. Their motives were less those of rapprochement, than suspicion of their grasping ally.

The bath I had every week, writing many letters about it beforehand, or it was sure to be missed. We were allowed to walk in the courtyard, a hundred yards long, every day or two. Scanning the bars, I saw some British faces there, and some Indian soldiers who had escaped. The R.A.F. officers were brought to the prison just to be interrogated, and, after a few days, went to a camp.

Colonel Newcombe now arrived, and had the next room to us. We got in touch with him. He had just been allowed to go to Brusa with some other senior officers, and after three or four days there was brought here. He was most lugubrious about the French front, and said he feared Kemmel meant the collapse of Ypres, etc. We cheered him up, and sent him yarhut, the Turkish sour cream. He was most generous with the stores he had. We began communicating at our windows as we had postas on our doors. I now heard that Lieut. Sweet, who was to have escaped with me from Kastamuni, had died in Yozgad. He had been wounded in his escape.

Fearing we might be separated, we arranged that the defence of the case should be left to me, as it seemed still uncertain whether we were up for trial of the letter—i.e., intent to escape—or whether they knew anything about the actual attempt.

Some days later I was sent for to the Taki-ki (Court of Inquiry), some quarter of a mile off. They wanted to know whether the fourth officer—referred to in the letter—was present. It seemed not. They then mixed up Galloway, who had given his parole, with another officer who had wanted to escape early in December, when the Black Sea affair was on, but not later, for the Dardanelles attempt. Galloway it was who had had a cheque stolen. My last memory of him from his former visit was that he complained of leaving Stamboul, which he liked. He had been sent for spectacles, but the Turks had sent him to bed in hospital, saying his eyes must be bad.

I answered nothing. Lieutenant Galloway turned up weeks later, very indignant. He thought the prison much inferior to the almost absolute freedom at Gedhos, where those who had given their parole walked about practically free for miles.

We others didn't sympathize much with his grief, but got ready another plan for escaping while in town.

To our great amusement the parole wallas—those who have given their word of honour to the Turks not to escape—are infinitely touchy on this question, and prefer to call themselves Jurors, as distinguished from non-Jurors. We ragged them by pointing out that even a Bolshevik was only a non-conformist, and we re-named them the Abjurors, as distinguishing them from the Endurers. We heard that the Abjurors (parole wallas) on leaving Changri had been persuaded to "abjure" by promises of "palatial dwellings in Smyrna." These turned out to be huts at Gedos.

Then the trial started. The other two were had up separately. They said I wrote the letter, that it was entirely my plan, although they were coming, and how only I had managed to get the information it contained, and that the whole plans were left with me.

I went the next day, realizing I could postpone the trial if I wanted to. A colonel and four or five other officers were assembled around a table, and a very decent Turk, Ali Bey, who spoke excellent English—was a graduate of Edinburgh—talked to me. They were all most deferential, and I seemed rather a character to them. Many of my letters sent back from the Censor lay on the table. I explained that I could quickly tell them all they wanted to know, but wouldn't say a word until they realized I was a British officer, and before trial wanted some fair play. I wanted baths and massage for my spine. There were my medical certificates to prove this. I wanted food.

The therapeutic baths lay in Pera, far-famed Pera, which included the church, the Embassy, the baths. The latter gave me rest, and also chances of getting a bandobast for escaping, if necessary, alone. I actually got the court's leave to go here, after refusing to say a word. An hour or two afterwards I was striding along Pera with a military policeman at my heels. It was such an exceptional thing in these days to be allowed out from the gaol that my guard was impressed. We found a bath the other end of Pera, a poor enough establishment, but one of the few places where one could get hot water. From here one managed to send out a note or two, although at first my guard wouldn't allow me to speak to any one alone. The bath people were awfully afraid, but I paid them well, and little privileges like a note to the Embassy meant cheques cashed and food available. The Germans were now nearly at La FÉre, and the public grew more timid accordingly.

On my way back I was stopped at Galata Bridge by a tall figure in mufti. The voice sounded strangely familiar. It was Forkheimer, an intimate acquaintance of mine at Cambridge before the war. We had often canoed up and down the Cam, and had played some keen tennis together. I had missed keeping an appointment with him in Leipzig in 1914, and had been invited to visit him in Vienna. Had he been fighting? Yes! being a German-Austrian, natÜrlich, a captain of cavalry, he had had his portion of it all on the Russian-Austrian front. There was no time to say anything else but give me his phone number.

On returning to the prison I found our room had been changed, and of all people in the world I met there, Vicomte D'Arici, my Italian friend from Kastamuni. He had been brought to gaol for trial. He was a brave man, well read, an excellent linguist, and had done foreign secret service for Rome for years. He knew of people I had known in Germany. In fact, it was the most exquisite good fortune that brought us together in prison when the one aim of the commandant at Kastamuni had been to separate us. We talked German day and night. He was up for being in possession of plans of the Dardanelles forts, and of all kinds of intelligence which he had gathered at Adalia, where, being free for many months after the outbreak of hostilities, he had been in a position to do this. He had, I understood, got quite a lot through to the Italian Foreign Office.

Nothing but the barest reference to the adventures and intrigues that now followed is possible in this diary. He was still carrying excellent information of the internal state of Turkey, the army and navy, the inner politics, the German supervision. Through him I got acquainted with one De Nari, an Italian engineer of great influence and power and ability, a prominent man in the Committee of Union and Progress, and a close friend to Turkey. By dint of much work I continued to pay bogus visits to a doctor's apartments beneath de Nari's, and the posta believed this was my dentist. We discussed politics, and de Nari, who was most hospitable and kind, gave me information over coffee and smokes.

He was an intimate friend of Midhat Chukri Bey, the secretary of the Union and Progress, and of Telaat Pasha, the Grand Vizier. The latter was, it appears, quite interested in Newcombe and me, and had some idea of getting in touch with England direct. I had several offers made to me, and only too glad would I have been to take any offer direct through to our Foreign Office, especially as Telaat wouldn't trust any ordinary envoy from Turkey. As the Germans had all the codes, to begin pourparlers by means of a prisoner would be the most secretive. I became quickly au courant with politics there. I was told that when peace was in sight I was to be sent home with an offer. I did not, however, like the great influence that De Nari had in the councils of things, and it seemed that the whole cabinet was a mass of infidelity and intrigue. A few decided and definite men could have persuaded Turkey out of the war, and, personally, I think it a great pity we didn't bomb fortified Stamboul years before.

D'Arici's wife had been stranded in Panderma, where all her goods were searched. I managed to get through to her some letters from d'Arici, and to effect her transfer to Stamboul. Moreover, d'Arici, sport that he was, had still with him some valuable plans of mines, and much secret information about politics with reference to Bulgaria. These he wanted to get rid of to his wife, and not to destroy. Having satisfied myself with his outline of defence in case things went wrong, I hunted and found his wife, after many adventures, in the heart of Pera. The guard followed, believing her the proprietress of a therapeutic bath. We had arranged a rendezvous in the waiting-room. I had to bring the packet back, as no chance offered for giving it, and it was, of course, certain death for her and for him, if not for me, to have been in possession of such interesting documents. I felt my weight of responsibility, but resolved to try again. The second time she was dressed quite differently. I found her flat, and racing up the stairs ahead of the posta, burst in and gave her the packet. She pushed this down her blouse, and the next second the posta very angrily forced the door open. While he was suspiciously looking around I bolted off again, and, of course, he had to follow me. My excuse that I was hungry was fairly feeble. Anyway he was appeased with a good meal, and I intended not to have him again if I could help. D'Arici was delighted, and I, on the other hand, now relied on getting away politically without escaping. The next day I got a private message from Ismid Bey, a tall, smart, and very modernized Turk doing A.D.C. to Djemal Pasha. He was very occupied with keeping up the importance of his chief, whose influence on the Triumvirate wavered at times. He had just returned from a voyage on the Black Sea, and in his cute Turkish way was most interesting as well as eager for news. He was half French. On entering he barked at my posta, who, startled and terrified beyond words at my claiming acquaintance with so august a person, literally cowed down, and waited outside.

We were in the Florence Restaurant, and had more or less privacy. There I learned for the first time of the outer expression of Bolshevism. Everywhere around the Black Sea where he had been, murders had just taken place on a wholesale scale. He told me a story of his difficulty in getting an interview with people in the southern ports. They were invariably killed just before, the reason, he was told, being that any one who wanted to interview a man wearing a collar must be anti-Bolshevik. Ismid showed me excellent and recent photos of the French front, and assured me that from personal inspection, he thought the German bandobast so gigantic and their defences so colossal that we could never get through. It was, however, all to an end. He wanted me to interpret to him the British official attitude to Turkey, and gave me to understand that for himself he wanted peace; in fact, he had just come from a peace meeting, but Enver was against all this. We had as yet no big victory in the West that might justify a Turkish bouleversement. He spoke of financial difficulties, and how much depended on a new arrangement of parties immediately. Djemal had quarrelled with the German commander in Palestine, and wanted Turkey to seize the whole of the Adrianople vilayet. In fact, against German orders he had insisted on a full Turkish Army Corps being stationed there, and he disliked the German military preponderance in the capital.

As for the Russian Fleet, Ismid indignantly denied that they were German, and said the Turks had seized them on threat of engagement, as the Germans had hoisted the German flag on the fleet after putting German crews aboard. He despised the German as being too stolid to understand Turkish mentality. This bore out what he had told Newcombe, that the Germans imposed tactics of too high a tactical standard on the Turkish forces after Gaza. I got a good deal more information, which I hoped Newcombe and I might turn to account.

D'Arici was amused at all this. We played bridge and plotted for more news. In the meantime I had visited Forkheimer's home, and persuaded the posta to remain downstairs. My life now was as different as possible from what it had been during all the preceding years.

I cashed £50 in cheques a month, and got out twice or three times a week. Turks began to know me in the street. Forkheimer and I, seated on his balcony overlooking the Bosphorus, sometimes snatched a few short minutes from captivity. We both wondered what our mutual acquaintance, Goodhart, an American we knew at Cambridge, was now doing. His people gave me most excellent tea. I was much interested in the pertinacity of these good people in believing Germany was absolutely right in the war, and we quite wrong. One avoided as much politics as possible, but they were rather keen.

About this time Colonel Newcombe and I formulated a scheme by which the British Government and our brother officers might be saved a considerable amount of money. The exchange at this time with the Dutch Embassy was 130, and in the bazaar privately as much as 200 could be got. These cheques could be exchanged again at a huge profit in Switzerland, and a great deal went into the pockets of foreign changers. Our plan was to get a loan of 10,000 liras a month, or 50,000 in a lump sum from the Ottoman Bank on the security of British officers and approved of by the senior British officer, at the rate of 250.

The Chef de Renseignement of the Ottoman Bank was agreeable. In fact, the bank would have made largely on the transaction, and, while helping us by ready money, and saving the Home Government over 100 per cent. on the exchange, have kept it out of Germany's hands, and would not have got any meantime advantage, as repayment of the loan would have been delayed until after the war. Every one was most enthusiastic. Senior officers at Brusa were willing to support the scheme, but the Turks wanted General Townshend's signature. We drafted a letter from our prison asking for his support and approval, and, if possible, to enlist the sympathies of the Dutch Embassy where English cheques were paid only at market rate, British officers getting about one-third to a quarter value (exchange was 500 at the armistice). The general frequently dined in Stamboul, and had a launch at his disposal, so I was informed by a Turkish naval officer, who had been with him for some time, and although no doubt considerably watched, would have many more opportunities than any one else.

After considerable trouble I managed to get a letter through to the general, with a covering one to be given to him at a dinner in Pera. The reply was long in forthcoming, and was most disappointing.

General Townshend wrote through his A.D.C., pointing out that the Turks weren't philanthropists, and if the scheme had been thought practicable it would have been tried before. Still, one must suppose the general knows best, as he dines out frequently and sees quite an amount of Stamboul personages.

I understand from de Nari, however, that General Townshend is more stalked than stalking. In a small photo of the general, with his A.D.C., Mrs. Forkheimer, and a young Austrian lady, taken on the rocks at Principo, we saw the first of our general for years. He looked extraordinarily fit and well. Some weeks later I passed him in Galata with an officer, and he looked exceptionally fit then. We envied him his opportunities, even if he were closely watched. Of one thing I was certain, that he either did not or could not know of the appalling sufferings and mortality of his division.

About this time I received a kind letter from Lord Islington in reply to the letter I had sent in the water-bottle. It contained, to my joy, the signal I had asked him to put if the letter was ever received and dealt with, and contained also some personal inquiries about my health. This letter landed me in for another inquiry, which I survived all right. In fact, I pointed out that it was known in London I had been neglected, and so I was allowed to visit Dr. KÖnig again and extend my visit to the baths. The German doctor was now quite angry with the Turks. I got my bi-weekly bath at Pera, and built up a regular visit to certain places. De Nari and I were now well acquainted. He was a very able and strenuous worker, and although keen on Turkish affairs, and fond of Turks even to the point of being hand in glove with the Union and Progress party, he was a keen and loyal Italian from all I saw of him.

Politics progressed rapidly. The second German offensive was well under way. So successful was it that, according to de Nari, my chance of going home on a special embassy grew less. The Turk in victory does not do himself bare justice. He revives instincts from his uplands in Central Asia. The Germans would be in Paris in two weeks, and Turkey would have back Egypt! etc., etc.

This man, de Nari, was a type to admire. An adventurer, brave, fearless, able, far-seeing, yet with much of the gambler in his nature, he belonged to the strain of Italy's brightest history. I remember one day having left the posta downstairs, and I came up by another door. De Nari's tall figure entered the room where a piano and 'cello lay amongst his papers and plots. He pulled his small black beard, and said with an anxious sigh, "Eh, bien! Un jour plus!"

I noticed a revolver in his hip pocket. This man had just been to a meeting with the chief spirits of the Union and Progress Committee, and had had to talk around the big heavy Telaat.

Apart from our political moves I tried to the very best of my powers to persuade him to get d'Arici out of prison. But d'Arici's machiavellian spirit had so many ramifications that I think he was commonly feared by all parties. I knew him, however, as a brave and reliable man once one understood his code. He was still within measurable distance of death, yet he dared to give me written information to carry outside. This would have completed the noose, and I was fully conscious of it when I carried the packet around. In fact, the day I took it I had resolved that at any cost I wouldn't allow the posta to get it.

Great days. De Nari brought me messages from this Turk and that. I told nothing, but waited. I felt that with a very little the Turks could be persuaded to give in, and said I was ready to take their suggestions and to promise to return to captivity if nothing happened. But against all that the set Government party wanted, or that the Union and Progress wanted, was the solid rebellious faction without a head, some against the Germans, some against the cost of living, some for the old regime, some for Bouharneddin, and some for the new party. Turkey in faith and tradition is too disciplined to be Bolshevik. Otherwise her rebellious factions would have united and hurled out the war cabinet in twenty-four hours. It was on one of these factions I had stumbled through the old Arab in the prison. Their scheme had now grown to blowing up Bilijik Viaduct, thus stopping the German offensive against Baghdad, a wholesale slaughter in Stamboul (d'Arici and I resolved how in this case we would floor postas and escape in their kit), and the opening of the Dardanelles. The police were seething with disaffection. The garrison at the Dardanelles had quarrelled with the Germans there, and a hundred or so of the latter had become casualties. This was confirmed from several sources. We began to hope for a sortie of the Dardanelles Turkish Garrison. But the success of the German offensive nullified this. Then came more quarrelling about the Black Sea Russian Fleet. The Turks insisted on taking it from the Germans. The latter had long since altered their cry from Berlin to Baghdad into Baku-Bokhara, and here got at loggerheads with the Turkish advertised programme. Turkish finance was in a deplorable state. Everything pointed to peace. But the German management that had kept Turkey in so long was efficient beyond words. A little opening, a little altering of the disposition of troops, and Turkey was out. Such was the state of Stamboul in May, 1918. I went to tea on more than one occasion at my friend Forkheimer's home. We talked Cambridge and the phenomenon of war as if we had been back among the cloistral stillnesses beside the Cam. He told me frankly what state Austria was in.

In the middle of all this political welter I was suddenly summoned to the court-martial. Arrived there one morning with my guard, I was shown into a passage, and the first person's head I saw among those peering around the corner was Castell's. He was heavily guarded. The place swarmed with sentries and spies. By making several requests in English and French I soon found no one there understood these languages. A little kitten had been playing in the room. I enticed it to come and talked to it and played with it with a piece of string. The Turks all became most interested, and thus talking to the little kitten I informed Castell exactly as to the stage of the case, and what was not known. I told him that it was my opinion nothing was known of the actual attempt, and that he must give guarded answers and evade every question that might divulge this. Our procedure was to avoid implicating the restaurant, who had had little or nothing directly to do with us. This I had purposely arranged beforehand. Also I wanted our stories to agree in evasion, as it was useless for me to evade one question, if he did not.

He had, it appeared, been transported to Angora, and had been kept under the closest confinement there, until one day, when he was informed he was to go to the war prison at Stamboul for court-martial for assisting British officers to escape. He was thus dreadfully in the dark, and had an idea the whole scheme was out. The other officer had kept inside the margin of my statement, and I intended Castell to do the same.

While keeping strictly to the truth in any statement, I intended to block and confuse their prosecution as much as possible. I now ordered Castell to abandon a scheme for hiding his identity which he had made months before. He was from Smyrna, and very little proof of his identity seemed forthcoming. He had intended taking the name of a British officer who had died on the trek. This was to save his neck, if imperilled, as he had some doubts whether, in spite of his British nationality, the Turks would not hang him without further ado as a Turkish subject. Much of Turkish justice depended on the state of the German offensive, which now seemed to have partly fizzled out. The Turks appeared to know it was the last bolt.

I was taken into a room with even more officials present than before. The court arose and bowed, and I saluted them. They gave me cigarettes, and inquired of my bath. I thanked them, and pointed out that this happened to be a bath day. An old judge smiled amusedly, as if I had already been ordered to be shot and tendered a petition for reprieve on account of its being my bath day.

They took particulars, and, showing me the letter, asked many questions at once. I informed the court, through Ali Bey, that I would do my best not to waste these gentlemen's time if they first allowed me to ask a question or two. After some discussion they agreed. Pointing to the letter, I asked if this, and this alone, was the only matter in issue, and if all questions and answers were to be concerned with it, or did they want to go into Gelal Bey's inquiry, and many other letters I had written? They looked puzzled, and would not commit themselves. However, after an hour of futile questioning about something or other in the letter, I gave them all kinds of contradictory statements and meetings with other persons, and about a dozen plans of escape, as if I were keen on making a clean breast of all my delinquencies. This they took down letter by letter, and, of course, actually found out on cross-examining me that these things related to other letters and other individuals, and led us into most interesting sidelights about our earlier letters to Bach Pacha, and Heaven knows what, but did not advance the case in hand. At last, mopping their brows—it was a hot day, and we had been at it over two hours—they said very severely that the trial was only concerned with the attempt to escape, and with the particular letter. This eased my conscience, as it cut out the actual attempt, and confined matters to the Black Sea affair. Except when they grew tired (I sympathized with them), they were quite pleasant, and my eyes pouring with water, an old colonel examined them, and went into an account of how his eyes had been similar once in the Caucasus. This I made lead to a digression on the war in the Caucasus and German propaganda there. (Germans were in hospital at Haida Pacha, with bad eyes, had they come from there?) We got on to the French Front, and the whole court crowded around to hear my opinion of the situation there.... I quoted the generals from Brusa, that they predicted an early dislocation of the German push. We got on to politics, and, later in the afternoon, after a most enjoyable day, marred only by the proximity of certain questions to embarrassing ones, I had managed to explain that the letter had been sent to Castell, c/o. the Embassy, as I didn't know his address. I had first seen him in church holding the plate. I didn't say where I had last seen him, which had been in the boat. Also I managed to save Doust, who had been a starter in the original scheme, although his name wasn't mentioned, by not answering, saying it was not decided as to who would go, but we had left a place for a spare passenger. As a matter of fact, one officer had changed his mind at the last moment. The Turks got to this point before at Psamatia, but instead of sending for officers concerned, they sent for Lieutenant Galloway, an officer who had given his parole, and was sunning himself pleasantly at the parole camp at Gedos. But as it was merely his travelling a few miles against a chance of Doust's neck, we three in the know were inwardly conscience easy.

The Turks congratulated me on my statement and one called me a shaitan (devil) to his colleague. I was to return to Brusa shortly, provided I answered the most important question. What matter? said I. Having answered so many, what was one extra for so great a boon? In fact, if they offered to return me to England I wouldn't mind repeating the whole performance. They clapped me on the shoulder, and then, amid a deathly silence, asked me to explain how it was the rope was actually seen down the wall. (They had evidently mixed up the occasion.) I said if they would produce the person who saw it I would endeavour to extract the reason from him, the wisdom of putting down a rope to escape when the plan had not only not been delivered, but, on the contrary, discovered.

This answer delighted the old judge, who said I was birinji (first-class), and wouldn't have me hectored further. I have forgotten to record that early in the trial they had admitted that Fauad, the interpreter, had played a most villainous game, that the letter had never been to the censor, that he had stamped it, taken it to a post-office to have a post-mark put on it, and then, tearing it open, had reappeared with it days later, saying it had cost him so many hundreds of pounds, etc. I now congratulated myself on having been so circumspective about the case, and that my opinions and theory had been so extraordinarily correct.

A door opened, and then, after some shuffling, question two was put to some one: "Do you know who this is?" A screen was suddenly moved, and there I saw Castell, looking white and scared. They had got very little out of me as to our meetings, etc., and I had said that he was the man who took the plate round in church, and had been unknown to me before, and that I had been informed that he was anxious to escape.

He looked helpless at being asked who I was, but the screen was hardly removed, when I said aloud for Castell to hear, "Why, that's the man at the church; I didn't know him before then." The court jumped up, and guards came over to seize me; I hadn't been meant to speak, as they had intended asking Castell who I was, etc. But the opportunity was too good to be missed. Castell was much relieved at this satisfactory announcement, showing how little the court-martial had progressed with the escape proceedings. The old judge roared with delight, and altogether we were quite entertained.

The proceedings had not stated what offence had been committed, although it seemed to embrace:—

(1) My intention to escape with news, general spying, and "undermining the fidelity of Turkish guards" (?).

(2) Castell's guilt in helping me to escape. He was technically a civil prisoner himself.

(3) Fauad's guilt as a Turkish posta. He was wearing uniform.

It began by my informing them these were not offences for which an officer, who had refused his parole, could be punished. It ended by my giving a general tirade on international law as regards prisoners of war, and showing that there were certain acts from which a prisoner of war could be restrained from committing, but for which he could not legally be punished. For instance, I might be much more useful to my country as a prisoner propagandist, and that with a sufficient audience of postas I might start a revolution. They were amused at this, and asked me what, from my point of view, would be a remedy for this? I suggested exchanging me!

I had been asked by Gelal Bey to pay for the replacement of two of Fauad's teeth that I had knocked out. I agreed willingly, and now suggested that I would like him to carry this souvenir of his treachery. The court, however, said they would not require this, provided I did not regard him as a Turkish soldier, although he was in uniform. They shook hands with me. I had much cause to be thankful that the inquiry had been so unsuccessful in finding out more.

I now returned to prison pending trial of the others. Castell was moved near me. This meant he was acquitted. A day or two afterwards the state of our rooms was so unsanitary that we feared an outbreak of fever. Castell left for hospital with typhus, and another man died. The smell from the drains and lavatories was overpowering. We were between this and the stench from the prisoners in the cellars beneath our window.

Colonel Newcombe now went sick. His skin broke out into a fiery rash, which increased, and he felt unwell. I tried daily for three or four days to get some one to see him, but the commandant took no notice. At last one doctor came and said it was merely bug-bites. By dint of perseverance we got another Turkish doctor who ordered him to hospital, it being actually smallpox. The colonel went off very depressed at our dividing, as we had all sorts of plans on foot for an escape from Brusa. He hoped, however, to get to the hospital where his lady friends might be permitted to visit him.

D'Arici and I now got down to work. I collected a complete compendium of news about the state of Turkey, statistics of the army, shipping, transport, exchange, loans, and especially inside politics. Dissensions between party and party were increasing daily, and now that the offensive, wonderful as it had been, was held up, the Turks on all sides were for peace. Yet the official hold continued.

By intelligence of this nature, carefully corroborated and up to date, I hoped to be able to render some service to our authorities when, as I fully believed, we should come to enter Stamboul. As yet no Turk can believe this will happen.

The others were sent to Afion. I continued on for a week or two. D'Arici and I had made great progress with our Intelligence. I loved to listen to his adventures and travels and his light-hearted view of life, including as it had for him great danger, varying discomfort, and uncertain rewards. Yet whether on a duel or trying to raise the wind, the artist was not far beneath, and he often treated us to selections from grand opera. His voice was an excellent baritone of great purity and power. With the other officers removed, I was now more free, and got into touch with two well-known English Levantines, Hadkinson, father and son, who were in the next room to ours. The former was a fine type of manhood, white-haired, and approaching seventy-five. They had been confined for over eighteen months as suspects in spying at Smyrna for our fleet. Young Hadkinson, the son, was much au fait, and helped me gather many facts about the course of Turkish politics during the war, and the many factions working secretly for the overthrow of Enver. We hatched all kinds of plots, and finally adopted a scheme fitting in with the old Arab's, by which a certain Turk was to be sent to Brusa to act as our messenger to and from Stamboul (it was only six hours' journey). Thus we could perfect our scheme. There are parts of these schemes and plots which it may be early to publish, but one startling proposition was for a certain powerful faction to open the Dardanelles to our fleet by a revolution among the Fort garrisons. It was amusing to think of me, a prisoner, carrying answers from and to Turkish generals at the head of many thousands of Turks in all the services, for a conspiracy to open the Dardanelles. Nor was this so unfeasible as it appeared. The army of the Dardanelles was anti-Enver. It was the Union and Progress Party alone that prevented every move. The movement wanted money, and was going to commence with a general massacre of the Turkish Cabinet. At this stage I left for Brusa again, the capital where many prominent Turks even then were in hiding!

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