CHAPTER XIII
THE HAMARI TURNS BOATMAN
The boatmen had taken up some of the marble blocks of the landing, andplanting long oars upright in the ground, and fixing other oarscrosswise on them, constructed a secure frame covered with freshsail-cloth. From their vessels they had also brought material for adais under the shelter thus improvised; another sail for carpet, and achair on the dais completed the stand whence the Princess was to viewand judge the race.
A way was opened for her through the throng, and with her attendants,she passed to the stand; and as she went, all the women near reachedout their hands and reverently touched the skirt of her gown--so didtheir love for her trench on adoration.
The shore from the stand to the town, and from the stand again aroundthe promontory on the south, was thronged with spectators, while everyvantage point fairly in view was occupied by them; even the ships werepressed into the service; and somehow the air over and about the bayseemed to give back and tremble with the eagerness of interesteverywhere discernible.
Between Fanar, the last northern point of lookout over the Black Sea,and Galata, down on the Golden Horn, there are about thirty hamlets,villages and cities specking the European shore of the Bosphorus. Eachof them has its settlement of fishermen. Aside from a voluminous net,the prime necessity for successful pursuit of the ancient and honorablecalling is a boat. Like most things of use amongst men, the vessel ofpreferred model here came of evolution. The modern tourist may yet seeits kind drawn up at every landing he passes.
Proper handling, inclusive of running out and hauling in the seine,demanded a skilful crew of at least five men; and as whole lives weredevoted to rowing, the proficiency finally attained in it can befancied. It was only natural, therefore, that the thirty communitiesshould each insist upon having the crew of greatest excellence--thecrew which could outrow any other five on the Bosphorus; and as everyByzantine Greek was a passionate gambler, the wagers were without end.Vauntings of the sort, like the Black Sea birds of unresting wings,went up and down the famous waterway.
At long intervals occasions presented for the proof of these men ofpride; after which, for a period there was an admitted champion crew,and a consequent hush of the babble and brawl.
In determining to conclude the fete with a boat-race open to all Greekcomers from the capital to the Cyanian rocks, the Princess Irene didmore than secure a desirable climax; unconsciously, perhaps, she hitupon the measure most certain to bring peace to the thirty villages.
She imposed but two conditions on the competitors--they should befishermen and Greeks.
The interval between the announcement of the race and the day set forit had been filled with boasting, from which one would have supposedthe bay of Therapia at the hour of starting would be too contracted tohold the adversaries. When the hour came there were six crews presentactually prepared to contest for the prize--a tall ebony crucifix, witha gilded image, to be displayed of holidays on the winning prow. Theshrinkage told the usual tale of courage oozed out. There was of courseno end of explanation.
About three o'clock, the six boats, each with a crew of five men, wereheld in front of the Princess' stand, representative of as many towns.Their prows were decorated with banderoles large enough to be easilydistinguished at a distance--one yellow, chosen for Yenimahale; oneblue, for Buyukdere; one white, for Therapia; one red, for Stenia; onegreen, for Balta-Liman; and one half white and half scarlet, for Bebek.The crews were in their seats--fellows with knotted arms bare to theshoulder; white shirts under jackets the color of the flags, trousersin width like petticoats. The feet were uncovered that, while the pullwas in delivery, they might the better clinch the cleats across thebottom of the boat.
The fresh black paint with which the vessels had been smeared from endto end on the outside was stoned smoothly down until it glistened likevarnish. Inside there was not a superfluity to be seen of the weight ofa feather.
The contestants knew every point of advantage, and, not less clearly,they were there to win or be beaten doing their best. They were cooland quiet; much more so, indeed, than the respective clansmen andclanswomen.
From these near objects of interest, the Princess directed a glanceover the spreading field of dimpled water to a galley moored under awooded point across on the Asiatic shore. The point is now crowned withthe graceful but neglected Kiosk of the Viceroy of Egypt. That galleywas the thither terminus of the race course, and the winners turningit, and coming back to the place of starting, must row in all aboutthree miles.
A little to the right of the Princess' stand stood a pole of height tobe seen by the multitude as well as the rival oarsmen, and a rope forhoisting a white flag to the top connected it with the chair on thedais. At the appearance of the flag the boats were to start; while itwas flying, the race was on.
And now the competitors are in position by lot from right to left. Onbay and shore the shouting is sunk to a murmur. A moment more--but inthat critical period an interruption occurred.
A yell from a number of voices in sharpest unison drew attention to thepoint of land jutting into the water on the north side not inaptlycalled the toe of Therapia, and a boat, turning the point, bore downwith speed toward the sail-covered stand. There were four rowers in it;yet its glossy sides and air of trimness were significant of a seventhcompetitor for some reason behind time. The black flag at the prow andthe black uniform of the oarsmen confirmed the idea. The hand of thePrincess was on the signal rope; but she paused.
As the boat-hook of the newcomers fell on the edge of the landing, oneof them dropped upon his knees, crying: "Grace, O Princess! Grace, anda little time!"
The four were swarthy men, and, unlike the Greeks they were seeking tooppose, their swart was a peculiarity of birth, a racial sign.Recognizing them, the spectators near by shouted: "Gypsies! Gypsies!"and the jeer passed from mouth to mouth far as the bridge over thecreek at the corner of the bay; yet it was not ill-natured. That theseunbelievers of unknown origin, separatists like the Jews, could offerserious opposition to the chosen of the towns was ridiculous. Sincethey excited no apprehension, their welcome was general.
"Why the need of grace? Who are you?" the Princess replied, gravely.
"We are from the valley by Buyukdere," the man returned.
"Are you fishermen?"
"Judged by our catches the year through, and the prices we get in themarket, O Princess, it is not boasting to say our betters cannot befound, though you search both shores between Fanar and the Isles of thePrinces."
This was too much for the bystanders. The presence they were in was notsufficient to restrain an outburst of derision.
"But the conditions of the race shut you out. You are not Greeks," thejudge continued.
"Nay, Princess, that is according to the ground of judgment. If itplease you to decide by birth and residence rather than ancestry, thenare we to be preferred over many of the nobles who go in and out of HisMajesty's gates unchallenged. Has not the sweet water that comes downfrom the hills seeking the sea through our meadow furnished drink forour fathers hundreds of years? And as it knew them, it knows us."
"Well answered, I must admit. Now, my friend, do as wisely with what Iask next, and you shall have a place. Say you come out winners, whatwill you do with the prize? I have heard you are not Christians."
The man raised his face the first time.
"Not Christians! Were the charge true, then, argument being for thehearing, I would say the matter of religion is not among theconditions. But I am a petitioner, not lawyer, and to my rude thinkingit is better that I hold on as I began. Trust us, O Princess! There isa plane tree, wondrous old, and with seven twin trunks, standing beforeour tents, and in it there is a hollow which shelters securely as ahouse. Attend me now, I pray. If happily we win, we will convert thetree into a cathedral, and build an altar in it, and set the prizeabove the altar in such style that all who love the handiworks ofnature better than the artfulness of men may come and worship therereverently as in the h
oliest of houses, Sancta Sophia not excepted."
"I will trust you. With such a promise overheard by so many of thisconcourse, to refuse you a part in the race were a shame to theImmaculate Mother. But how is it you are but four?"
"We were five, O Princess; now one is sick. It was at his bidding wecome; he thought of the hundreds of oarsmen who would be here one atleast could be induced to share our fortune."
"You have leave to try them."
The man arose, and looked at the bystanders, but they turned away.
"A hundred noumiae for two willing hands!" he shouted.
There was no reply. "If not for the money, then in honor of the noblelady who has feasted you and your wives and children."
A voice answered out of the throng: "Here am I!" and presently thehamari appeared with the bear behind him.
"Here," he said, "take care of Joqard for me. I will row in the sickman's place, and"--
The remainder of the sentence was lost in an outburst of gibing--andlaughter. Finally the Princess asked the rowers if they were satisfiedwith the volunteer.
They surveyed him doubtfully.
"Art thou an oarsman?" one of them asked.
"There is not a better on the Bosphorus. And I will prove it. Here,some of you--take the beast off my hands. Fear not, friend, Joqard'sworst growl is inoffensive as thunder without lightning. That's a goodman."
And with the words the hamari released the leading strap, sprang intothe boat, and without giving time for protest or remonstrance, threwoff his jacket and sandals, tucked up his shirt-sleeves, and droppedinto the vacant fifth seat. The dexterity with which he then unshippedthe oars and took them in hand measurably quieted the associates thusaudaciously adopted; his action was a kind of certificate that theright man had been sent them.
"Believe in me," he said, in a low tone. "I have the two qualitieswhich will bring us home winners--skill and endurance." Then he spoketo the Princess: "Noble lady, have I your consent to make aproclamation?"
The manner of the request was singularly deferential. Sergius observedthe change, and took a closer look at him while the Princess was givingthe permission.
Standing upon the seat, the hamari raised his voice: "Ho,here--there--every one!" and drawing a purse from his bosom, he wavedit overhead, with a louder shout, "See!--a hundred noumiae, and not allcopper either. Piece against piece weighed or counted, I put them inwager! Speak one or all. Who dares the chance?"
Takers of the offer not appearing on the shore, he shook the purse athis competitors.
"If we are not Christians," he said to them, "we are oarsmen and notafraid. See--I stake this purse--if you win, it is yours."
They only gaped at him.
He put the purse back slowly, and recounting the several towns of hisopponents by their proper names in Greek, he cried: "Buyukdere,Therapia, Stenia, Bebek, Balta-Liman, Yenimahale--your women will singyou low to-night!" Then to the Princess: "Allow us now to take ourplace seventh on the left."
The bystanders were in a maze. Had they been served with a mess ofbrag, or was the fellow really capable? One thing was clear--theinterest in the race had taken a rise perceptible in the judge's standnot less than on the crowded shore.
The four Gypsies, on their part, were content with the volunteer. Infact, they were more than satisfied when he said to them, as theirvessel turned into position:
"Now, comrades, be governed by me; and besides the prize, if we win,you shall have my purse to divide amongst you man and man. Is itagreed?" And they answered, foreman and all, yes. "Very well," hereturned. "Do you watch, and get the time and force from me. Now forthe signal."
The Princess sent the starting flag to the top of the pole, and theboats were off together. A great shout went up from the spectators--ashout of men mingled with the screams of women to whom a hurrah orcheer of any kind appears impossible.
To warm the blood, there is nothing after all like the plaudits of amultitude looking on and mightily concerned. This was now noticeable.The eyes of all the rowers enlarged; their teeth set hard; the arteriesof the neck swelled; and even in their tension the muscles of the armsquivered.
A much better arrangement would have been to allow the passage of theracers broadside to the shore; for then the shiftings of position, andthe strategies resorted to would have been plain to the beholders; asit was, each foreshortened vessel soon became to them a black body,with but a man and one pair of oars in motion; and sometimesprovokingly indistinguishable, the banderoles blew backward squarely ina line with the direction of the movement. Then the friends on landgave over exercising their throats; finally drawn down to the water'sedge, and pressing on each other, they steadied and welded into a mass,like a wall.
Once there was a general shout. Gradually the boats had lost theformation of the start, and falling in behind each other, assumed anorder comparable to a string. While this change was going on, a breezeunusually strong blew from the south, bringing every flag into view atthe same time: when it was perceived that the red was in the lead.Forthwith the clansmen of Stenia united in a triumphant yell, followedimmediately, however, by another yet louder. It was discovered, thanksto the same breeze, that the black banderole of the Gypsies was thelast of the seven. Then even those who had been most impressed by thebravado of the hamari, surrendered themselves to laughter and sarcasm.
"See the infidels!" "They had better be at home taking care of theirkettles and goats!" "Turn the seven twins into a cathedral, will they?The devil will turn them into porpoises first!" "Where is the hamarinow--where? By St. Michael, the father of fishermen, he is finding whatit is to have more noumiae than brains! Ha, ha, ha!"
Nevertheless the coolest of the thirty-five men then scudding theslippery waterway was the hamari--he had started the coolest--he wasthe coolest now.
For a half mile he allowed his crew to do their best, and with them hehad done his best. The effort sufficed to carry them to the front,where he next satisfied himself they could stay, if they had theendurance. He called to them:
"Well done, comrades! The prize and the money are yours! But ease up alittle. Let them pass. We will catch them again at the turn. Keep youreyes on me."
Insensibly he lessened the dip and reach of his oars; at last, as thethousands on the Therapian shore would have had it, the Gypsy racer wasthe hinderling of the pack. Afterwards there were but trifling changesof position until the terminal galley was reached.
By a rule of the race, the contestants were required to turn thegalley, keeping it on the right; and it was a great advantage to be aclear first there, since the fortunate party could then make the roundunhindered and in the least space. The struggle for the point beganquite a quarter of a mile away. Each crew applied itself to quickeningthe speed--every oar dipped deeper, and swept a wider span;--on alittle, and the keepers of the galley could hear the half groan, halfgrunt with which the coming toilers relieved the extra exertion nowdemanded of them;--yet later, they saw them spring to their feet, reachfar back, and finish the long deep draw by falling, or rather topplingbackward to their seats.
Only the hamari eschewed the resort for the present. He cast a lookforward, and said quickly: "Attend, comrades!" Thereupon he addedweight to his left delivery, altering the course to an angle which, ifpursued, must widen the circle around the galley instead of contractingit.
On nearing the goal the rush of the boats grew fiercer; each foreman,considering it honor lost, if not a fatal mischance, did he fail to befirst at the turning-point, persisted in driving straight forward--amadness which the furious yelling of the people on the marker's deckintensified. This was exactly what the hamari had foreseen. When theturn began five of the opposing vessels ran into each other. The boiland splash of water, breaking of oars, splintering of boatsides; theinfuriate cries, oaths, and blind striving of the rowers, some intenton getting through at all hazards, some turned combatants, striking orparrying with their heavy oaken blades; the sound of blows on breakingheads; plunges into the foaming brine; blood t
rickling down faces andnecks, and reddening naked arms--such was the catastrophe seen in itsdetails from the overhanging gunwale of the galley. And while it wenton, the worse than confused mass drifted away from the ship's side,leaving a clear space through which, with the first shout heard fromhim during the race, the hamari urged his crew, and rounded the goal.
On the far Therapian shore the multitude were silent. They could dimlysee every incident at the turn--the collision, fighting, and manifoldmishaps, and the confounding of the banderoles. Then the Stenia colorsflashed round the galley, with the black behind it a close second.
"Is that the hamari's boat next the leader?"
Thus the Princess, and upon the answer, she added: "It looks as if theHoly One might find servants among the irreclaimables in the valley."
Had the Gypsies at last a partisan?
The two rivals were now clear of the galley. For a time there was butone cry heard--"Stenia! Stenia!" The five oarsmen of that charming townhad been carefully selected; they were vigorous, skilful, and had achief well-balanced in judgment. The race seemed theirs. Suddenly--itwas when the homestretch was about half covered--the black flag rushedpast them.
Then the life went out of the multitude. "St. Peter is dead!" theycried--"St. Peter is dead! It is nothing to be a Greek now!" and theyhung their heads, refusing to be comforted.
The Gypsies came in first; and amidst the profoundest silence, theydropped their oars with a triumphant crash on the marble revetment. Thehamari wiped the sweat from his face, and put on his jacket andsandals; pausing then to toss his purse to the foreman, and say: "Takeit in welcome, my friends. I am content with my share of the victory,"he stepped ashore. In front of the judge's stand, he knelt, and said:"Should there be a dispute touching the prize, O Princess, be a witnessunto thyself. Thine eyes have seen the going and the coming; and if theworld belie thee not--sometimes it can be too friendly--thou art fair,just and fearless."
On foot again, his courtierly manner vanished in a twinkling.
"Joqard, Joqard? Where are you?"
Some one answered: "Here he is."
"Bring him quickly. For Joqard is an example to men--he is honest, andtells no lies. He has made much money, and allowed me to keep it all,and spend it on myself. Women are jealous of him, but with reason--heis lovely enough to have been a love of Solomon's; his teeth are aspearls of great price; his lips scarlet as a bride's; his voice is thevoice of a nightingale singing to the full moon from an acacia treefronded last night; in motion, he is now a running wave, now a blossomon a swaying branch, now a girl dancing before a king--all the gracesare his. Yes, bring me Joqard, and keep the world; without him, it isnothing to me."
While speaking, from a jacket pocket he brought out the fan Lael hadthrown him from the portico, and used it somewhat ostentatiously tocool himself. The Princess and her attendants laughed heartily.Sergius, however, watched the man with a scarcely defined feeling thathe had seen him. But where? And he was serious because he could notanswer.
Taking the leading strap, when Joqard was brought, the hamari scruplednot to give the brute a hearty cuff, whereat the fishermen shook thesails of the pavilion with laughter; then, standing Joqard up, heplaced one of the huge paws on his arm, and, with the mincing step of alady's page, they disappeared.